After a while, I get up.
I leave Father in his study, the knife still stuck in Sinora Lehzar.
10
AURELIA
Hathene, Etania
It’s midnight, and the maidservant is clearly startled to see me when I knock on Mother’s door. Her mouth hangs slightly open, glancing at the clock, at the late hour, but I have a plan for that. My eyes well up, my body shivers and shakes, and the girl switches to horrified. I’ve never played this card before, and it works well.
She escorts me inside quickly and through the audience chamber, through the private withdrawing parlour, right to Mother’s bedroom. I don’t wait for any further permission. I push through the heavy door and the maidservant makes a squeak-like sound. I close it on her gaping face.
Mother turns in evident surprise.
I stare at her, also surprised.
Soft, Resyan lyrics sigh from her gramophone:
In the open air, I call to you.
In the heat, I sing my song.
I am a mountain, a song you remember,
and my feet are roots fed with blood,
with old dreams.
She stands at the vanity with its glass bottles, wearing only her lace nightgown and silken robe, her black hair unbound, face free of powder and rouge, skin a deep shade of russet beneath the lamp. Everything queenly has been stripped away. She’s herself, vulnerable before me. Eyes glittering with what might be tears. And suddenly, she looks so much like a mother—warm and glowing in the light—that resentment stings. I wish I could run right to her and bury my head in her shoulder and breathe in her jasmine scent and hear her tell me everything will be all right, that there’s nothing to worry about and Havis is banished forever. I want that so badly I can feel it trembling in my breath.
But she’s the one dealing these dark cards.
She’s the one with secrets.
“You can’t send me to Resya, Mother. Please don’t do it!”
It’s not what I intended to lead with. My emotions are swirled and tangled inside, and that’s what comes out.
She looks at me as if perplexed. It’s too dark to tell. “I’m sending you nowhere,” she says after a moment. “You’re only sixteen.”
“But almost seventeen,” I say helplessly. At seventeen, everything can change for a girl. Marriage. Death. It all looks the same to me now. “I have to go to the University, as Father would want. You can’t send me away yet.”
Mother laughs shortly. “Oh, come now, Aurelia. Don’t make that your excuse.”
The ease with which she bats away my plea wounds me further. Of course it means little to her, she who was never properly educated, whose own father adored her for being clever and quick even though she couldn’t read a book. But this is all I have as escape. She doesn’t understand. Perhaps if I study hard, if I speak many languages and can debate economic policies, then Reni and his council and everyone else here will consider me too useful to send away. Perhaps I can make it a waste to marry me even into another Northern kingdom. I can make them want to keep me here. This place I love with every beat of my heart, this place my father believed in.
My home.
My mountains.
Mother’s elegant brows draw together, studying my desperation. “Resya is freedom, Aurelia. Do you want to be cooped up forever in a palace? Bound to some spoiled duke? I’m offering you a way out, with a man who will let you do what you please.”
“He’s a snake,” I choke out. “And I’m going to the University. I have to go!”
Her eyes narrow, colour rising on her cheeks. “Tell me this, Aurelia—is life learned behind those high university walls? Can you learn there how to mourn your husband’s death? How to be handed a crown and expected to rule? How to start a new life in a strange land far from home? No, I learned these things by living, and believe me, the lessons of life are far harsher than my words to you now.”
A hot and reckless bitterness pounds through my veins, sparking me. “And was it life that told you to negotiate with the likes of Seath?”
Mother grips the edge of the vanity. Silence swallows us, the song ended, and she doesn’t move, staring at me. After a long and empty moment, she comes closer and I see stark weariness in her eyes. “You read the letter, did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell your brother?”
“Never.”
She sighs, her hand reaching for mine. The gentle touch softens my raging anguish. She leads me to the vanity bench and we sit together on the velvet cushion, a heaviness in the silence. She wears no jewelry, but her wedding band glimmers on her finger, the one thing she never removes.
“Listen, then. I will tell you the truth about your father. You are my own heart, my bright star, yet you see precious little of the true world beyond these walls. I will show you. I will show you why you must trust me in these matters.” She holds my gaze. Steady. Then she speaks in Resyan. “The truth, Aurelia, is your father died because of a lie. A few men in our kingdom questioned his right to this throne. They said he was never a son of Prince Efan, but rather the great-grandson of a farrier. They’re the ones who killed him.”
I blink at her. Her words don’t make sense. Everyone has always said Father’s heart gave out suddenly, that there was nothing anyone could do, he died too young and—
“They were foolish men,” Mother continues plainly, “and I have no pity for the foolish. They believed what they wished, no matter the impossibility of it. But your father … Your father didn’t think it honourable to punish others for ideas. He thought the whispers against him would pass.” She drops her eyes. “That rumour in the night found a way to steal the light of my life.”
The pain in her voice can’t be hidden. It’s raw and vulnerable, and a horrible pain seizes my chest. All of his warmth, his gentleness. Taken for a lie. I didn’t think it was possible for his death to be any more painful.
Murder.
“Why doesn’t Reni know the truth?” I whisper, afraid of the answer.
She grips my hand, endless sorrow in her eyes. “How I long to tell him, my star. I know his bitterness. I see his anger towards me. And if I told him the truth, perhaps he’d trust me again. But if anyone should ever ask him about his right to this throne, his answer must be ‘yes’ and it must be held with all the conviction in the world. He can never doubt. He must be blameless.” She looks sadder than I’ve ever seen her, a mother who can’t ally with her own son. “Death was your father’s fate and he let it be so,” she continues, “but know that I didn’t let it go unpunished. Those foolish men paid for their crime, in secret. The rumour was cut at the roots.” She draws a line across her neck, a Resyan gesture that not only reflects death but also deep necessity. Something that can’t be undone. “We are safe, and your brother will never rule in fear.”
A shiver treads along my skin. I should hate the idea of it, the idea of an execution without trial. But I don’t. No one should be allowed to hurt a gentle man like my father and get away with it. They deserved what she did.
“And what about Seath?” I ask.
She touches my cheek. “We have no trouble with him. He may be violent now, but many years ago, he was a reasonable man, studying to be a doctor at the university in Resya. Your uncle did business with him. Unfortunately, your uncle was left in his debt.” She shakes her head. “I have a way to settle the matter. The Havis family has great influence. But you must never speak of Seath, do you understand? Certainly not here.”