Page 111 of Queen of Nothing

And his patience won’t hold forever.

Maybe I wasn’t so nervous about seeing Mother after all. Maybe it was the inevitable face off with Father that’s been churning my insides like butter.

I might be nervous to face him.

But I’m not hurt by his snubbing of me. Not now that I know the truth. The truth about him. The truth about me.

A truth that has killed a part of me.

Ever since that night in the garden of Hell House, while Serena recovered from childbirth inside, and she held her baby, and I sat under the moonlight…

Ever since, I have been different. Changed.

And so Father doesn’t hurt me anymore. Because I understand.

My smile is watery and pained as Amelia releases me and, taking a step back, she stands with Mother, whose inky gaze hangs on my waist, as though the whole time Amelia held me, she was just standing there, considering my shape, my curves, my outline, and judging every inch of it.

Mother’s mouth thins.

And, like their minds are synchronised, Amelia looks down at my body, too.

It’s not a small amount I gained.

I’ve gone up a couple of sizes.

So I imagine I’ll be living off of peanuts and water for the next few months.

“It’s…” Amelia’s silken voice halts, it hesitates, and she touches her fingertips to her lips. “It’s fixable.”

Out the corner of my eye, Dray drops his head—and I almost think he’s hiding a smile, but as I lock onto him, I see that a muscle feathers in his jaw.

He doesn’t look pleased.

I almost scoff.

Like he of all people can be judging how others speak to me.

Mother’s face tightens the longer she inspects me.

I don’t know what offends her most. The jeans or the canvas shoes, the sagged ponytail, or that I’m a few centimetres wider.

She loosens her breath, fingernails clacking in that annoyed way of hers, and it warms me just to hear it.

Amelia murmurs quietly to Mother, as though I’m not right here in front of them, “Aerobic exercise, calorie deficit, and walking. A lot of walking.”

She turns her smile on me, and her pale inhuman eyes are still glittering with tears.

She adds, “The grounds are lovely in summer.”

Father has been a statue by the steps this whole time. But Amelia’s suggestion cracks his patience.

His retort is sharp, “Out of the question.”

I flick my stare in his direction.

Father cuts his sharp, outraged glare between Mother and Amelia.

The strength of his commanding voice leaves no space for argument. “Olivia will not be permitted to leave her chambers.”