I stood up then and drew Letti’s cloak close around me, my mother’s words ringing in my ears. Fight for me? “Mother,” I asked, “what do you mean by this visit? Why are you here?”
Lady Lombard sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “By the gods, Palmeria. Whose cloak is that? Ugh, never mind that now. Have it cleaned the moment we’re home.”
“How did you know to find me here? What are you doing here?” My voice was quiet, but I was desperate to understand. “What do you mean by asking whether Syndrian intends to fight for me?”
She strode slowly through the small cabin, touching the furniture and inspecting her fingers as if lifting traces of dirt from the impeccably clean furnishings. “When you took off in a rush and did not return after the healer girl left, I asked Letti which horse you’d taken. Given the state of your clothes and hair, I assumed you’d come into the village. Where else would you have gone by horse? You had no purse or weapons, as far as a quick search of your room revealed.”
Everything began to spin as I realized what I’d done. I’d left my room and rushed off without securing any of my belongings. I swallowed hard and tried to keep myself from giving anything away, but the breaths came too quickly, and I felt light-headed.
“Mother…” I gripped the back of the chair, and Syndrian’s brows lowered as he rushed to stand beside me.
“Are you all right?” He offered me his arm.
I took it, equal parts relieved for the support and excited at his touch. “I…I…” I looked at my mother, whose expression was that of someone who knew she held the winning hand. “Tell me,” I whispered. “Why are you here?”
“Did you know that I was in love with an Otleich when I was young?” she asked. She paced the cabin floor, her fine shoes creating a dull echo against the rough floor. “That’s how I ended up married to your father. I was in love with Emeric Otleich, eldest son of Lord Wilmot Otleich.”
As my mother shared the names of the people in her past, Syndrian jolted almost imperceptibly, but she noticed.
“Ahh,” she cooed. “You do know the family. Then perhaps you work with them in some capacity?”
“I’m just a cutler, ma’am. I work only for my father’s guild shop.” Syndrian’s response was curt, but there was unreleased fury in his voice.
“Of course you don’t,” she agreed, glaring at him. “None of us who do are foolish enough to admit to it.” She turned her attention back to me.
The fire that my mother had set blazed hot, and the room grew warm. Sweat trickled down the sides of Syndrian’s forehead. I nearly slipped the stinking cloak off but decided to leave it in place. I had no idea what my mother had planned for me, but moving suddenly and surprising her seemed unwise.
“Emeric was a beautiful boy.” She sighed, fluttering her eyes closed. “But his father had plans for him. Marriage was not in the cards. At least not back then.” She opened her eyes and motioned to a chair. “If the two of you plan to stand, may I?”
Syndrian met my eyes and then quickly released me to pull out a chair for my mother.
“Thank you, Syndrian,” she said, drawing out his name as if tasting each syllable. “Your father has been up to his eyeballs in the Otleiches’ businesses since he was a boy. When he made the mistake of pursuing a foolish young girl who worked on the land that Wilmot Otleich gave him…” She tsked through pursed lips. “Your father has always had an uncommon abundance of luck. Not wits, mind you. Oh, my husband is certainly not clever. Had he been, he’d have never bedded a member of the household. Thankfully, Wilmot Otleich never knew your father had sired a bastard son. Dennes did right by them, though. He made arrangements for Idony and that crofter boy. And then he went to Wilmot Otleich with a proposal.”
I was growing weak with anxiety, wondering just what my mother wanted. She’d not scolded me for being alone with Syndrian. She’d not told me how she’d found me. Or even how she knew of a place I thought was a secret known only by my father. My heart thudded in my chest, the blood racing through my body so loudly, I could almost hear it in my ears, crashing like waves.
“Mother,” I said, trying to move her along to the point. “I don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with…”
She held up a hand, and my eyes darted to the fire, but instead she pulled my death mask from beneath her fine cloak. My hand flew to my mouth, and Syndrian hissed a quiet curse under his breath.
“I’m getting there, dear, but I can see you’re impatient.” She looked the mask over, stroking the features of its face. Of my face. She’d never once shown that kind of attention to me, her child. Watching her, I might even have believed that she loved me. Or at least the girl whose face looked so eerie, so still. “You did this?” she asked.
I nodded, staring down at my hands. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you help?” she demanded, arching a brow at Syndrian.
“No,” I blurted, unwilling to tangle him in a plot he had nothing to do with. “When you arrived, I was explaining to him what happened. How I obtained the item. And how it was damaged, which is why I will be unable to use it.”
My mother nodded, and I almost thought I saw a tear in her eye. But I did not see emotion there—if she felt any emotion, it certainly was not sadness. She poked her finger through the perforation between my brows and pulled, tearing the mask in half.
I sucked in a breath, but kept silent as my token, my magic artifact, was rendered even more useless. I’d kept it as a reminder of what I might yet do, how I might yet save myself, but now, it was truly ruined.
“This was the length you would have gone to?” my mother asked, her voice even, devoid of any emotion. “To escape marrying an Otleich, you would do this?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nearly croaked the words.
She sighed and nodded, then stood and casually tossed the mask in the fire. I tried not to cry out as the flames flared vibrant purple, then blue. Then the mask curled in on itself, burning and melting until it was unrecognizably charred. And then, it was well and truly gone. My mother turned away from the fire and held her elbow out to me.
“Syndrian,” she said gently. “I would ask that you take your leave. I plan to burn this place to the ground, and I think it would be safer if you were nowhere nearby when it happens.”