Stealing Cinderella(74)

When I don’t find the answers in a bottle of akevitt, I close my eyes and try to sleep, but it never comes. There is no peace when I don’t know if she’s safe and warm. She had to know when she left, this would happen. She had to know what she was doing. She ripped my heart out and took it with her. I can’t accept that.

Every second of every hour, I can only think of her. The agony doesn’t go away, and it’s entirely different than what I’ve known before. It’s emptiness. A void of blackness I’ll never crawl out of.

I throw my feet over the edge of the bed and yank open the nightstand drawer. There are six bottles of my mother’s sleep elixir inside. One would be enough to knock me out if I really wanted it. But as I twist the cap in my hands, my eyes drift to Ella’s letter again. Discarding the bottle, I read the lines for the hundredth time, staring at the scratched-out ink, trying to imagine what she said beneath it.

When that fails me, I pick up my phone and check with Han to see if he has any news. But he tells me there isn’t, assuring me he will alert me as soon as he finds something. I text her friend Charlotte again too, but she doesn’t respond. It’s late in London, and I doubt I’ll hear from her until morning.

I take to pacing the halls, and when I tire of that, I walk out onto the terrace and stare out at the bay. But no matter how many times I look for her, she isn’t there.

I’m not entirely sure what my motivations are when I summon my driver, who delivers me to the palace at my request. I take to walking the halls there too before I end up at the door to my mother’s herbal room. When I step inside and find the shelves full of elixirs, I recall the promise I made to my mother. But what about the promise Ella made to me? I’m not going anywhere, Thorsen.

I scoop up a handful of bottles from the shelf and examine them. Perhaps the medication is dulling my senses, or perhaps Dr. Blom was right. This was always a compulsion. An ideation to solve all my problems, but it was only ever a fantasy.

“Thor?”

My mother startles me, and I immediately feel guilty when I find her in the doorway, watching me.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I ask.

“Your Aunt Runa heard you come in.” She eyes the bottles in my hand. “I asked her to wheel me down here.”

“She shouldn’t have woken you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” she says, and I can tell by the pinched expression on her face that she’s in pain. But still, she’s here.

“I wasn’t really going to do it,” I tell her.

“I know.” She uses her one good arm to wheel herself farther into the room.

“How do you know?”

She offers me a soft smile. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

I nod and set the bottles aside, and suddenly, I just feel so fucking tired. I’m tired of this charade. Tired of this darkness in my head. Tired of disappointing everyone because that’s what they expect of me.

“I know things have been difficult for you the past two weeks,” my mother says. “Your father’s death was hard on you, but I’ve seen a change in you that I’ve long suspected. The crushing weight of his expectations is gone, and I think that’s terrifying for you because you’ve never known what it’s like to be free.”

I can’t comprehend how it’s possible she can still be so perceptive as she’s wasting away. There have been moments over the past few months when she would get confused about the simplest things, but right now, her mind is as clear as I’ve ever known it to be.

“Am I right?” she asks.

“Yes,” I concede. “You’re always right.”

She sighs, and I’ve never seen her so relieved. “I worried for some time that perhaps I did the wrong thing. I didn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

Shadows dance across her face as she dips her head. “You had questions about your father’s death. Suspicions. And you were right, Thor.”

“Lavinia?” The name feels like poison on my tongue.

“No.” She lifts her chin to meet my gaze. “It was me.”

For a full minute, I’m not convinced I even heard her correctly. Her confession has stolen all the oxygen from the room, and it’s too impossible to be true. She has always been the kindest person I know. But the resolve in her eyes can’t be discounted, and I know she isn’t confused. Not about this.

“You poisoned him?”

She nods with a finality that indicates she’s made peace with her decision. “It will never be detected.”

“Why?” I study her, trying to understand.

“It was the only thing that made sense.” Her voice hardens. “He failed my son, and I could never forgive him for that. I wouldn’t leave you here with him, Thor. I couldn’t. This was the last thing I could do to protect you, and I would do it again.”

When I don’t respond, her voice fractures, and it fractures me too.

“Please understand, I have no fear of the consequences of my actions. I only fear that you will never forgive me.”

“I forgive you.” I memorize the lines of her face, so I’ll never forget. “I had no love in my heart for him. I realize that now. It was only ever the desire to be loved.”