The Betrothed (The Betrothed #1)(68)

“I can’t guarantee it’s a good one, mind you, but it might be all we can do.” She settled next to me on the floor, and I couldn’t help but think that, even in her rumpled, mourning state, she looked so poised. “I think Scarlet and I need to go. And I think you need to stay here and start your life.”

“What?” My heart started pounding. “You’d abandon me?”

“No,” she insisted, cradling my face. “I’d protect you. The only way I can ensure that your life will not be in jeopardy is to distance myself from you as quickly and widely as I can. I cannot be sure that King Quinten will not come again once he finds me alive, even though I am old, and neither Scarlet nor I could hope to hold the throne. He will always be a shadow over my shoulder. The only way you will be safe is if I’m anywhere that you aren’t.”

I looked away, trying to find holes in her logic.

“You’ve inherited quite an estate, darling girl. Take your time to mourn and then, when you find someone new—”

“I will never find someone new.”

“Oh, Hollis, you are so young. There’s so much ahead of you. Have a life, have children. It’s the most any of us can hope for in such dark days. If my leaving means keeping you away from what happened last night, then I do it happily.

“But please know,” she pleaded as she ran her hand down my dirty hair, “that being parted from you will be as difficult to bear as being parted from my sons.”

I tried to find the good in this, in being left behind. The only thing I could see in it was that she loved me as much as I loved her, as much as I suspected we both had for a while. And that was something, in the middle of so much sorrow: to know that I was loved.

“Where will you settle?”

She looked at me as if I’d missed something. “Back in Isolte,” she said matter-of-factly.

Oh. When she said she was going, she really meant it.

“Are you mad?” I shot back a little too loudly. Scarlet stirred and rolled over, still asleep. “If you are so certain your king is trying to kill you, won’t going back make it all too easy for him to finish the job?”

She shook her head. “I think not. It may not be written into law, but Isolte tradition states that it’s males who count when it comes to royal succession. That is why our line is so much more threatening than that of the Northcotts: they are descended from one of Jedreck’s daughters. But”—she paused, thinking of all the little details—“she was the firstborn, and that sometimes holds weight in Isolte. In the past, there were pockets of people who favored her son, Swithun, and her line has been so strong and upstanding, which couldn’t be said for many of the other lines before they died off. . . . .”

Her eyes suddenly went somewhere else, as if looking at a picture in the ground I could not see. “I think the king hasn’t bothered with the Northcotts as they’ve managed to nearly cut off the line without much help. . . .” She blinked a few times, coming back to her point.

“Dashiell and I raised our children to know who they were, whose blood they carried, and how that made them enemies of the king. They understood why we set guards outside their doors some nights, why we visited the castle to pay homage for even the smallest event in King Quinten’s life. If Scarlet and I die, it will be with honor. If you die? It’s because of our association. That would be too much for me to carry.”

I stood, moving to the window. Mother always said that when you absolutely must make a decision, do it in sunlight. As a child I thought it was her way of making me wait for answers that she never wanted to give, ones I always seemed to ask before bed. But sometimes I still did it. I hoped it would clear any clouds in my mind.

“Do you intend to just march up to King Quinten? Tell him you’re his faithful servant after he just murdered your family?”

“Indeed, I do.” She closed her eyes for a moment, taking her own words in. “I will confirm his hopes that the male line has ended, and then I will swear my loyalty. Even if it wouldn’t save you, I think we’d have to go back. For better or for worse, Isolte is our home, and I want to protect it, try to save what good there is while there’s still time. Because one day, that wicked old man will die. He will die and leave a fractured kingdom, and I would be shocked if anyone could muster the will to mourn him.

“It’s risky. He could kill you on sight and truly end your line. Have you considered that?”

“He could,” she allowed, resigned to a truth that I supposed had been a part of her since the day she married, “but my life has been a long one. I have used it to love, and I have used it to mother. I have used it in worry and in fleeing. Now I will use it to guard. I will guard Isolte by going back to it and you by leaving. So, you see, we have to go.”

The sun was giving me nothing. I could see it, I could even feel its warmth . . . but it didn’t change a thing. I turned, burying myself in her arms.

“I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted in a tone that was unmistakably motherly. “Think of all you managed to accomplish in the last few months. If anyone could manage this, it’s you. You’re a very smart young lady.”

“Then will you listen to me when I say it’s foolish to go back?”

She chuckled. “You may be right. But I can’t spend my final years in hiding. I must face my monster.”