He hadn’t even called her by her name, she realized. He’d called her “daughter”.
She only knew her hands were curled into fists when the pain from her nails against the flesh of her palms broke through the haze of hurt and rage. She was shaking, her breathing shallow, sweat dripping down her back from the effort it was taking to not hurl herself after him. Sorrow focused on the pain, trying to centre herself. Bayrum, now talking to Melakis, shot her a concerned glance, but she shook her head, not trusting herself to stay in control if anything broke the fragile hold she had over her temper. She watched as Harun stepped forward to embrace his son again. It was as though he couldn’t touch the boy enough. She hated him. She hated him.
“I wish you’d died,” she whispered to herself as the song ended and Harun stepped forward to embrace his son. “I wish you were dead.” In the moment she wasn’t sure which of them she meant.
Somewhere beyond the room a clock began to chime, and she counted the bells, using them to bring her breathing back to normal. At the twelfth bell, she released a long sigh. A new day.
Sorrow realized with a start that it was her birthday. She’d been born two days after the accident. She was eighteen. She looked over to what was left of her family – her father and so-called brother, standing arm in arm, accepting congratulations and joy from everyone.
Yearning for Rasmus overwhelmed her, and she had to lean against the wall to stop from sinking to the ground. If he’d been there he would have danced with her; he would have fought to suppress a gleeful smile when she’d slapped Balthasar. He would be with her now, wishing her a happy birthday, telling her he’d come to her rooms, that he couldn’t wait to hold her.
A lump formed in her throat then as she understood what she’d lost. And it was all for nothing, for now Mael had returned she wasn’t needed. Her father had seemingly rallied, and if he faded again Mael was here to be chancellor. She closed her eyes, unable to stomach seeing them.
Movement at her side a moment later made them fly open.
Mael was standing beside her.
She looked at him, then around the room. Melakis had taken up the violin again, and he and Vespus were playing something muted, as the Jedenvat milled around and tried to pretend they weren’t watching Sorrow and Mael. Balthasar closed in on Harun and began to talk, though Harun kept glancing back at his children, his envy of Sorrow evident in his sharp gaze.
“Why are you over here? Why don’t you join in?” Mael asked. “You’re not happy, are you?”
“I’m tired,” Sorrow said. “The last couple of days have been eventful.”
He nodded, accepting it. “Did he talk to you?” Mael turned, leaning against the wall with his shoulder so he could face her.
Sorrow remained where she was, facing out into the room. “He did. He said you were here now and I didn’t need to concern myself with Rhannon any more.”
Mael made a soft click with his tongue. “I didn’t mean for him to say that.”
Sorrow turned. She looked at him, this new-old brother, whose face she recognized from a lifetime of paintings. “What did you mean for him to say?”
“Just … that you don’t have to do this alone any more. You don’t have to be responsible for all of it.” He swallowed. “I know that to you Lincel is a traitor, but to me she was a lifeline. To me she was a link to my sister, and my father; every bird she sent was a gift. She was the one who told me about both of you, and Grandmother too.” Sorrow flinched at the mention of her beloved grandmama. “She told me how much the Dowager First Lady did to lessen the harshness of our father’s rule. And how you tried to fill her place after she died. I wish I could have known her.”
Sorrow met his gaze levelly. His eyes were the same brown as hers. As their father’s.
Everyone in Rhannon has dark eyes. So what? Sorrow shook her head and tried to concentrate.
Mael turned to where Harun was watching them. “He promised no more Lamentia. He sent a bird, while I was in the room, to Istevar, asking for his chambers to be stripped and cleaned, and for any trace of the drug to be destroyed. He wants to start again. He knows it will be hard, and that breaking the addiction won’t be easy, but he says he wants to try. For us.”
“For you.”
“Sorrow.” Mael’s eyes were sad. “He’s so ashamed of the way he’s treated you.”
“Ashamed?” She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. “You think he’s ashamed?”
“That’s why he can’t look at you, or talk to you. He told me so. He’s embarrassed by how badly he’s let you down.”
Sorrow blinked. “That’s his excuse for his behaviour?”
Mael nodded earnestly. “He knows he’s not been the father you deserve and it pains him to have let you down so badly, to have his young daughter look after him. He told me of the times you’d gone to him, cleaned him up after one of his … episodes and cared for him. And how he wept once you’d gone, wept for what he was doing to you. But he promised me he would make it up to you and we’d be a true family.”
Sorrow swallowed.
“He must have woven quite the story if you believe that anything he told you was true,” she said bitterly. “But I have seventeen – no, eighteen – years of experience that has taught me otherwise. Which you don’t,” she added, surprised at herself.
A look of hurt crossed Mael’s face. “I don’t expect you to forgive him straight away,” he said stiffly. “And I don’t expect you to believe or even like me, just like that, either; in fact, I’d be disappointed if you did. But things are going to be different now. You’ll see.” He took her hand before she could stop him and raised it to his mouth, kissing it. “Like I said, we’re going to be a family. I look forward to getting to know you both.”
He bowed then, and began to back away. “Oh, and, Sorrow? Many happy returns.”
He turned on his heel and walked back to the others, who welcomed him with cheers.
As Harun reached to embrace him once more, she studied both of their faces. Harun’s beard made it difficult, but there was no superficial resemblance between them; where Harun’s nose was slightly hooked, Mael’s was sloped. And where Mael’s cheekbones were high and sharp, Harun’s were flat, even in his thin face. Of course, it might be the gap in age that caused the difference.
Or it might not…