“Yes.” She lifted her chin with pride, and in doing so, she gave him a glimpse of the girl he remembered. “My parents flew off world when the war began and never came back. Can you believe that?”
He could, easily. He’d watched Cassia’s parents abuse and neglect her for so long it seemed fitting that they would neglect the colony, too. But he didn’t want to discuss them, not until he knew his mother was safe.
“My mom,” he began, and trailed off to read Cassia’s reaction. When her lips parted in the classic look of having forgotten something important, he knew she hadn’t tried contacting his mother. “It’s all right,” he assured her before she could apologize. “I’ll find her. Are you okay if I…” Leave again? He let his gaze ask the question.
Nodding, she reached out as if to touch him but quickly pulled back her hand and folded both arms across her chest. “Of course. Go. We’ll talk later.”
The city was a virtual wasteland, with half its inhabitants living in a tent camp near the farmers’ market, but not even war could stop the rumor mill from churning. The allure of fresh gossip was more indestructible than any breed of cockroach known to man. No matter how far down life knocked a community, they could always take pleasure in the scandals of others.
That was universal.
According to rumor, a guard at the security station who’d witnessed Kane’s reunion with Cassia had told the story to a friend. That friend, who was in charge of distributing rations outside the palace gates, had told the butcher’s wife, who, in turn, told her prayer group. From there, the story spread like a fever, passed from one eager mouth to the next in excited whispers. Kane Arric is back, the queen’s ex-lover. She didn’t seem happy to see him. I heard he only came home so he could join the rebellion.
None of it was true—not the “lover” part and certainly not his interest in overthrowing the crown—but news of his return helped him find his mother. When he’d landed the Banshee’s shuttle at his childhood home and found it abandoned, a stranger scavenging nearby had recognized Kane and mentioned that his mother was living at a farmhouse on the outskirts of town. After thanking the man, Kane flew to the farm, where his mother greeted him in a flurry of hugs and tears.
An hour had passed, and he still hadn’t let go of her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he said for the tenth time. “I wanted to, but I was afraid the Daeva might find you.”
She patted his cheek. “You’re safe. That’s all I care about.”
While they sat side by side at a rustic kitchen table, he smoothed a thumb over the back of her hand. It was the only part of her that had aged. Her once-clear skin was now covered in dark spots and a road map of bluish veins. Those small changes, along with the dirt stains beneath her nails and a slight trembling of her fingers, hinted that she hadn’t simply lived on this farm. She’d worked on it, too. He figured she’d lost her job as a dressmaker in the palace—luxuries were always the first casualty of war—but he didn’t like her doing manual labor.
“Are they good to you here?” he whispered, nodding toward the middle-aged farmer scrubbing root vegetables in the sink. The man housed a lot of transients under his roof, most of them women who slept six to a room on blanket pallets. The farmer kept glancing over his shoulder as if to check on her, like she needed protection from her own son. Kane scowled and scooted his chair to block the man’s view. “Be honest. If you don’t feel safe, I’ll move you into the palace.”
“The palace,” she spat as if it were a dirty word. “They turned me out the morning after you left.”
“Before the war?”
Instead of answering, his mother paused to let him figure it out.
“Oh.” He hung his head. “Because it was your dastardly son who ran away with the princess and ruined her for all other men.”
“It worked out for the best,” she said, and used a kerchief to blot her dewy cheeks. “I’m happy here, and they need me. I like making a difference. I network with other farms to trade food for labor. I place orphans in safe homes. I even created a medicine swap.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“It’s about survival now. We need food and shelter more than we need dresses.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” he told her. “If it makes any difference, the rumors aren’t true. We left because Cassia was in trouble.”
“That’s why she left,” his mom said with a knowing smile. “But it’s not the reason you followed her, Doodlebug.”
He whipped his gaze over both shoulders to ensure no one except the farmer was within earshot. If his nickname made it back to the crew, he’d never hear the end of it. “Mom,” he whispered, drawing out the word. “You can’t call me that anymore.”