Page 110 of Queen of Nothing

I look up at the open doorway.

The fireplace in the foyer must be lit, because a warm orange light cascades over the stone steps, and licks over the edges of Oliver’s shoes.

He stands there by the door with Father and Dray. Mr Younge is nowhere in sight, and neither are the other henchmen.

It’s just us out here.

Family.

Even the Sinclairs. Amelia, especially.

I loosen a soft breath, relaxed by the slackening hold of Mother’s arms as she starts to release me.

Slowly.

And wetly.

Her tears have soaked the shoulder of my thin, flimsy sweater. The material clings to my skin, and it’s uncomfortable.

But, as Mother draws back an inch, I see that it’s not just tears that she got all over me. Her nose glistens and I have the sudden urge to jump into a scalding bath.

I’ve never seen her like this before.

Unrefined. Unpolished.

Unravelled.

Her hands tremble as she reaches for my face.

Still, just behind her, Amelia hovers—not taking a step in either direction, just watching, waiting for a clear path to reach me.

Mother’s hands firm on my cheeks, pulling my gaze back to her, and she holds me so tightly that it’s as though she’s afraid to let go, because then I might run away again.

A pang strikes my heart.

I swallow, thick, as she looks into my eyes.

The guilt hits me like a blow to the gut.

My cheeks roar with shame, and I can’t hold her gaze another second.

I look down at her lovely, delicate diamond necklace.

Mother considers me.

And that turns into an inspection.

I know it when she says, “Nothing a little Botox can’t fix.”

She runs her thumb along the corner of my eye, and she says it like it’s a kind fix, something I shouldn’t fret about, because Mother will take care of it.

But I didn’t know there was anything wrong to fix until now.

She steps back—and the moment she does, and her hands leave my face, the dainty form of Amelia Sinclair shoulders past her with surprising urgency, and she latches onto me.

I endure another long embrace.

I return it, but each second that passes is another that Father is waiting.