Page 220 of Vexatious Queen

“I’m so sick of people saying they have to keep secrets out of love and to protect me. Every decision you’ve made has a dozen alternatives. Forget everything else for a moment. What you did last night was reckless and selfish.”

I pointed at her.

“How dare you act no better than the men you claim to want to destroy. There was a child at the table! I looked up to you. You were my hero, but right now…you disappoint me. The mother I remember would not need their daughter to explain that shooting Vadin in a room full of family leaders and a child is wrong.”

She had the decency to look down, ashamed.

“You’re right, that wasn’t my finest moment. That hadn’t been my plan, but when I saw him, I lost control. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things. Hurting you and causing you pain is at the top of the list.”

I was reeling, but had to ask this.

“Why didn’t you go to Dad? Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“Because it was something that I had to do myself. If I’d dropped you off with your father and told him what I was planning, then he would’ve gotten involved. He wouldn’t have been able to help himself. It is his nature to protect and fight for those he loves. He never would’ve let me do it on my own or played along with me being dead. I had to deceive you both to make it look real.”

I’d spent my whole life believing my mother was something pure, an angel frozen in memory, untouched by ugliness other than what was done to us. Now, I knew the truth. She was as tarnished by this world as anyone else. It hurt in ways grief never had.

She wasn’t a ghost. She was flesh and blood and choices. Her choices had carved scars into both of us. I understood her reasons, and grudgingly even respected some of them, but that made the betrayal sharper, like the slice of a knife.

Love didn’t disappear when trust fractured. It changed. I didn’t know if there was a future where we stood side by side as mother and daughter again. Maybe we would just learn to orbit each other carefully, as strangers bound by history neither of us could avoid.

All I knew was that whatever came next wouldn’t be simple, wouldn’t be clean, and it wouldn’t be the fairytale reunion from my dreams. I had no idea if loving her would ever feel safe again.

“I hear what you’re saying. You felt that the ends justified the means. I watched you die. I buried you. I grieved you. My father grieved you…again. You chose what worked best for you.”

I shook my head at her.

“You claim to love me, but I’m struggling to see that. You still haven’t told me why it was so important that you do this all by yourself. So, I’ll ask you again…why? Why do this at all?”

Mum stood and placed her hands on my shoulders.

“All I can say is, I’m sorry. I hope that one day you will find it in you to forgive me.”

“Are you leaving again?”

“No. I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

“Really? So, if Vadin takes off to the other side of the world…what then?”

She was quiet a beat too long, and I sighed.

“I see.”

I stepped back, and her hands fell to her sides.

“I need time to think about what you said, and I can’t be in the same house as you right now. I’m going back to Wayward.”

“Ren, please…”

“No. For four hundred and ninety-two days, I had no choice. You chose the silence. You chose the lie. You chose who and when I mourned. I survived because I had no other option. If there is any chance of repairing what you broke, it happens on my terms now. Not yours. Right now, I need space, and I need to learn who I am without grieving a ghost or reconciling a miracle. I will always love you, and I am grateful that you’re alive. But the girl who needed you learned how to live without hope. And now…the woman standing here doesn’t know how to trust someone who taught her how to grieve a mother who never actually left.”

I didn’t wait for her to respond. Some wounds required no witnesses. I walked out before my resolve cracked and grief turned me back into someone smaller.

Whatever came next, I would face it without lies, ghosts, or surrendering myself again.

For the first time since she died—or hadn’t—I chose me.

MARCH 8 – SUNDAY 10:01 AM