He sighs theatrically and pulls away, his hand coming up to tuck my hair behind an ear. “Have it your way.” He gestures toward my door. “After you.”
When we push the door open, I startle for a moment, unused to the sight before me: my mother is cooking. Something she hasn’t done in… I’m not sure how long.
I raise my eyebrows at Saela, who sits at our kitchen table, working on a row of figures on her chalkboard—prepping for a test tomorrow, I remember.
Saela smiles and shrugs.
“Mother!” I lean in and give her a kiss on the cheek, and she smiles at me.
“What was that for, honey?”
“Nothing.” I swallow. “Just… dinner smells good, Mother.”
The realization slams into me: it’s so rare to see her lucid these days that it’s almost weird, wrong. My chest tightens and I turn to Lee, distracting myself. “Hand me that loaf,” I say gruffly. “Let’s get it sliced up. It’ll go perfectly with…”
I turn back to Mom, inquiring with my eyes.
“Your father’s favorite—that fish stew he always asked for.” Mother continues stirring the fragrant pot calmly, seeming not to notice the silence that descends on the room for a moment as Saela and I savor the rare mention of our father.
Lee looks between the two of us, then moves toward the counter, grabbing a knife from the block and taking the fresh loaf from its bag. “Meryn, go sit.”
I collapse into the chair next to Saela, my feet throbbing. I’ve barely been off them all day. Closing my eyes, I savor the smells of cooking, the warmth from the cookstove and the fireplace at the far end of the room.
Saela bonks me on the forehead with her piece of chalk. “Wake up, sis.” I laugh and turn to her, grabbing her chalkboard to see what she’s working on. We chat about her school day, but I’m only half listening, my other ear trained on Mom and Lee, who are working side-by-side.
It’s too normal.
I try to ignore the thought that it can’t last and just enjoy the comfort.
As we take our seats at the table, Saela’s asking Lee questions about the Bonded City—the neighborhood on the far side of the castle that only Bonded and their families inhabit. Saela’s been interested ever since we glimpsed the Bonded marching through the streets this week.
She’s spreading butter across the bread Lee brought, but her eyes are glued on him. “So you’ve seen it? The Bonded City?”
“Yes, from afar, but you can see a lot of it from the upper floors in the castle,” he affirms, smiling at her wondering expression.
“What’s it like?” She sets her chin on her hands, rapt.
Lee hums. “Well, it’s obvious that it’s made for the Bonded and their wolves, for one. All the streets are broader, so that it’s easier for the direwolves to pass each other without getting their fur ruffled.” He reaches over and ruffles Saela’s hair to illustrate.
“Can you see the wolves from the castle?” she asks breathlessly, too enthralled to get annoyed at how he’s babying her.
“Sometimes,” Lee nods. “And one time I actually saw a direwolf pup, if you can believe it. Even their little ones are huge! They usually keep them out of the main city because they’re playful at that age, and don’t realize the damage they can do. Think of a baby animal nearly the size of a horse.”
Saela gasps. “I bet the pups aresocute!”
Lee rolls his eyes at me, and I laugh. “I think she’s missing the point about the dangerous wolf monsters with fangs as long as this spoon,” he stage-whispers, holding up his cutlery to demonstrate.
Mom is setting down the bowls of stew in front of each of us when I see the change start to come over her. Something shifts in her eyes—she gets that glazed expression that I hate so much. The bowl still in her hands wobbles, splashing broth and chunks of vegetable onto the floor. To my horror, she’s staring at Lee when she begins to babble.
I grab the bowl out of her hands before more spills, setting it down on the table.
“Nocturn curses you, traitor,” she hisses, and the venom in her voice makes my skin prickle. “He curses you!” Mom has raised a hand to point straight at Lee. He’s seen her delusional before, but never aimed at him.
“Mother,” I say, trying to draw her attention back to me, to calm her down. It only sets her off more.
“Andyou,” she says, turning on me, wild-eyed. “You are not where you are meant to be.”
She raises her hand and attempts to strike me, but I catch her wrist in mid-air, holding it tightly. The silver engagement bracelet my father gave her, the one she’s never taken off, slips up her thin arm. Mother squirms against my grip as I move to restrain her entirely.
