Naelin felt as if she’d been stabbed by one of Ven’s knives. All three of them were looking at her with eager eyes: Erian, Llor, and Renet. It would be so very easy to say yes. She closed her eyes. She’d been fighting spirits all day, fighting her own body, fighting fate. She didn’t want to fight her family too. “Renet . . .”
“I swear I will never endanger the children again,” Renet said. “I know what I did was wrong. I was wrong. I didn’t think about consequences. Or at least not about bad consequences. I knew you’d protect them. I thought they’d be fine. I’m an optimist—you know that. I believed everything would work out, if I could just make you see how incredible you are—”
“Stop. Just stop.” The ache in her head pounded harder. She squeezed her eyes and tried to make it recede so she could think and react in a reasonable way. She felt Ven’s hand, still on her shoulder, and she felt Bayn press against her side, his warm, furry body holding her up, if she needed it to.
“They’re my children too,” Renet said, “and I love them.”
If she opened her eyes, she knew what she’d see: Renet, with his arms around Erian and Llor, the picture of the perfect father. And he was a good father to them, mostly. He loved them. Even if he was occasionally scatterbrained and reckless, he did love them. And they adored him. She knew if she opened her eyes, she’d see hope burning bright in her children’s eyes. They were waiting for her to say she forgave him, as she always did.
“I’ll be the perfect husband,” Renet said. “Give me a chance, Naelin. Please. See, look at me, begging in front of the Queen’s Champion, sacrificing my pride. I will dote on you, adore you, worship you, just give me another chance. I swear I’ll listen to you. I’ll respect your wishes. I’ll do anything you want me to do.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. “I didn’t want you to come. I told you not to, and you came anyway. How is that respecting my wishes?”
“The children needed me.” He sounded wounded, and her instinct was to heal, to soothe, to fix, as she always did.
She opened her eyes, and the picture was exactly as she’d imagined: Renet with his arms around the children, Erian with tears on her cheeks, Llor with a hopeful smile. And then Erian broke away from Renet and ran to her. Naelin instinctively dropped down on one knee, and Erian launched herself into Naelin’s arms. She buried her face in her mother’s neck. Naelin inhaled the sweet smell of her hair, the faint hint of honeysuckle and lavender. Erian still fit so neatly into her arms. Naelin wondered how much longer that would be true. Erian grew more every year, and soon she wouldn’t want her mother’s comfort like this. “I wrote him,” Erian said in her ear. “I’m sorry, Mama. I asked him to come.”
Naelin hugged Erian tighter. This she could forgive, easily. “It’s all right, baby. I understand.” She’d been leaving them alone while she trained. They had to be lonely and scared. She hadn’t known how to fix that, so Erian had found her own solution. In a way, it was clever. Pulling back, Naelin forced herself to smile. “Just because things have changed between your father and me, it does not mean they’ve changed between you and me or between your father and you. I love you, and he loves you, and that will never change.”
“Naelin?” Renet’s voice was hesitant. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I’m saying, Renet.” Naelin stood, her arm still around her daughter. “You may stay. Be father to our children. I will ask the palace caretakers to find you quarters nearby.” Or maybe not so nearby. Another level. Another tree. Another country.
“But not here, with you?”
“That’s right,” she said.
Renet’s face darkened. “Is it because of him?” He pointed at Ven.
Naelin felt her jaw drop open. Did he mean . . . He was accusing . . . She shook her head as if to knock his reaction into something that made sense. Ven had nothing to do with her and Renet’s failed marriage—their love had died years before the champion ever heard of East Everdale. “It’s because of you and me, and if you can’t see that . . .” She trailed off before she said something she’d regret in front of the children. He was still their father. She didn’t have the right to tear him apart in front of them, though she wanted to. She had the urge to send him to the corner, to think about what he’d said, like he was a five-year-old. Instead, she turned and crossed to the bell pull. She yanked on it, harder than necessary.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for a caretaker to come. “This man has had a long journey and is almost certainly hungry. Could you please take him to the kitchens and then arrange for a bedchamber to be prepared for him”—she almost said near theirs but then changed her mind—“in the main tower? Just above the kitchens?”
“Of course.” The caretaker bowed.
To Renet, she said, “I begin training at dawn. You may return then to spend time with the children.”
“Naelin, this is ridiculous,” Renet said. “You’re my wife, and they’re my children. And I don’t need your permission to spend time with—”
Ven cut in. “Candidate Naelin is here by express invitation of the Crown. You are not. If your presence here distracts Candidate Naelin from her training in any way, you will be asked to leave.”
Llor began to cry.
Naelin closed her eyes again. She wanted to sag into a heap on the floor. But she didn’t. She held herself upright and her expression firm until Renet left with the caretaker. Even then she didn’t allow herself to collapse. She gathered her children into her arms as the door clanged shut behind him. “Everything will be all right,” she promised them.
“You don’t know that,” Erian said, pulling away from her. “At least this way we won’t be alone when you’re killed.” She ran into the bedchamber and slammed the door behind her.
Llor sobbed louder.
Hugging him, Naelin tried to scoop him up, but her muscles were tired and shaking, and he was a solid six-year-old boy. Coming around her, Ven picked him up and carried him with her into the bathroom. There, Ven helped her dry Llor’s tears and prepare him for bed, washing him, brushing his teeth, dressing him in a nightshirt. Together, they tucked him in, and Naelin kissed his forehead. “Don’t die, Mama,” Llor begged sleepily.
“I won’t,” she said, and hoped she wasn’t lying.
Trotting in, the wolf licked the tip of Llor’s nose, and Llor giggled. He then closed his eyelids. Naelin watched him for a moment longer until he was breathing evenly. She then went into her bedchamber, where Erian had thrown herself on Naelin’s bed.
“You’re mad at me,” Erian said, “but I’m not sorry.”
“I am sorry,” Naelin said, and kissed Erian’s forehead. “And I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation. I’m mad that I have to be apart from you for even a second. I’m mad that things change. But I’m not mad at you. And even if I were, you know what? I’d still love you.”
“But you don’t love Father anymore.”
Naelin sighed. “People change.”
“What if I change, and you decide you don’t love me anymore?”
She did not want to have this conversation right now. She silently cursed Renet for forcing her to. “How about I promise?”