Then I’ll have blood.
I've waited too long for this, and the upcoming end of my regency ought to be my only focus. Taking revenge for the death of my little sister should be the only thing on my mind.
And yet here I am, in a sunny floral drawing room decorated in silver and rose, drinking tea with the wife of one of the three people I suspect to be behind the massacre that almost cost me my life. That cost Moira hers.
Natheran Reiks once asked what it was like growing up without a parent, and I told him I’ve never known anything else. When my father was still alive, he was constantly occupied, either by affairs of state or with entertaining his extensive list of wives and courtesans. He paid attention to my brother, his heir, forming him for the crown he was supposed to eventually ascend to. I was his third-born, and too young to be of much use. As for my mother, she was but a pretty thing from his harem, and her primary concern was to keep her tits from sagging and her face from wrinkling. A half-coldblood from an insignificant line, born to an Anderkanian tradesman, she started to look like she was approaching her thirties at a hundred and seven years old. She knew what that meant: the moment she looked older than him, my father would have her replaced.
I was of little interest to either of my parents.
Reiks understood. His bastard of a father is worse than mine ever was, and has yet to do him the courtesy of dying.
I don’t want revenge because someone killed parents I never cared about. I want revenge for Moira.
She was six. I remember the screams as the savages—stinking of sweat and the iron stench of common blood—ravaged her. They kept going after she died. I’ll skin all of them alive before burning them, like they did her small, broken body.
Moira’s memory is the one thing that has kept me alive for the last fifteen years. I learned to watch the shadows and turn blades. I poisoned myself until I was immune to whatever my enemies my might slip in my drinks. I slept only after plastering the walls of my chamber in three feet of ice each night. I have to live for her. It’s that simple, and nothing else matters.
Instead I am having tea, because all of a sudden crushing an irrelevant, common mortal's spirit takes precedence over the full weight of my wrath.
I managed to ignore my curiosity and morbid fascination with the strange woman all season, but after what happened in alchemy, I can no longer afford to.
There's something going on with Helyn Stovrj. Something I’m missing.
I should have suspected it that very first night, when she, a common girl, held my interest. I barely understood myself, half disgusted, half piqued every time I saw her.
The nail in the coffin was her resisting my call, although I pushed her. I pushed her harder than I've ever pushed anyone before. She should have been a pile of goo on the stone floor, begging me to let her serve me.
Instead, she refused me.
She could be in love. Those with true, deep connections are harder to crack. But I pushed so hard, she should have succumbed regardless. The barest hint of interest from me is enough for any man or woman to fall under my spell. Because she dared question me, I unleashed the entire brunt of my power on her, and still, she brushed it off.
Oh, she struggled. I could tell she was a heartbeat away from giving in. She still managed to deny it. Deny me.
I know powerful demigods incapable of such a feat. The freaking Frejr couldn't manage it, but she did.
I need to understand what she is. Which brings me to my tea companion: an annoying, overexcited, beaming woman with tight golden ringlets.
“Let me get this straight,” I summarize the tale she shared at my request. “You popped out a kid and just left her to die the minute she was born.”
Calm as ever, the blonde sips her tea before shaking her pretty head. “Well, no. I left her with my mother. Trust me, Your Highness, I know what I am, okay?” By this, she must mean a vicious snake. “But Lyn Stovrj was a good mother. She did her best for me. More than her best. I knew my girl would be a lot safer with her than she would ever be with me. And I was right."
I'm speechless. I momentarily consider freezing this woman's heart in her chest, but I doubt that would work on someone this cold to begin with.
"I see how you look at me. But I was fifteen—a kid myself. I'd been raped by a guard who was not about to pay a dime to help raise his bastard. I didn't even know I was pregnant until the contractions started. I did what I thought was right at the time. Looking back, I'd make the exact same choice. I wasn't equipped to raise a child."
She has that much right.
"I can't tell you much about Helyn. I don't know her that well. I had to bribe half of the lane for what little knowledge I have, and it’s secondhand. My own mother was tight-lipped. What I can tell you is that she's a lot better than I ever was." She grins over the rim of her teacup. "But you know as much, don't you? You wouldn't be here otherwise."
I lift my chin, staring at the poor excuse for a common mortal—and my view of common mortals wasn't exactly sterling to begin with.
"I saw your look in the garden that night. The longing. I get it. We almost have the same face, and boy, men were interested when I was her age." She chuckles. "And unlike me, she's also golden underneath the skin."
I have to reluctantly admire the duchess's candor. Still, we should get one thing straight. I return her honesty with a few truths of my own. "I don't long for your daughter, Neleda. I simply mistrust her, and you, and your husband."
The duchess takes one of her sickly sweet cupcakes and brings it to her pink lips. "I expect you do. Mistrust is a valid reason to stay away, right? And you want to stay away." She snorts. "My husband tells me you're quite the bigot. You only respect demis, and think coldbloods are better than anyone else. That's why he's so restrictive to you, you know. He realizes his power only extends for a few more weeks, and he dreads what you're going to do to his kingdom when you get to follow your whims. We bought land in other realms, just in case you drag us down with you."
I try to remember the last time I let anyone insult me like that, and I come up blank.