Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(47)

Hearing the commotion at the door, his mother stood and craned her neck, peering at them.

“Hello, Mother,” Ash said, his voice echoing through the suddenly silent hall. “I’m back, and I am so very sorry.”





19


ONE-ON-ONE


The blood left his mother’s face as if she were, in fact, seeing a ghost. She lost hold of the glass in her hand and it fell, scattering shards of glass and droplets of blood-red wine all around her feet. Planting her hands on the arms of her chair, she stood. She took one step toward him, then another, her boots crunching on the glass, her arms outstretched, palms up. “Hanalea’s blood and bones,” she whispered. “It can’t be—is it really you?” Her expression mingled hope and dread, as if she didn’t dare believe the evidence of her eyes. All around her, the faces of the council members were like spots of suspicion and doubt.

Strange. From what Lila had said, his mother and Captain Byrne had known all along that he was alive and hiding out in Oden’s Ford. But this reaction was more like . . . like she’d actually thought he was dead.

Aunt Mellony stood, also, her face even paler than usual, pointing a shaking hand at Ash. “It’s a trick, Raisa,” she said. “A despicable Ardenine trick. There’s a resemblance, I’ll admit, but—”

His mother shook her head, raising a hand to hush her sister, her eyes still fixed on his face.

He wanted to rush forward, to embrace her, so that she could feel that he was living flesh and blood, but the guards still had hold of him, waiting for some signal from their queen. Anyway, that was her move to make. He couldn’t blame her if she ordered him out of the queendom he’d abandoned for so long.

All at once, it was as if the wall of doubt came down. His mother leapt forward, closing the distance between them, and flung her arms around him as the two guards hastily released him and stepped back.

“They said you were dead,” she murmured, her forehead pressed against his chest. Her entire body was trembling, trembling, and so thin that she seemed fragile, even though he knew she was all muscle and bone. “When I—when I thought I’d lost you, too, I was closer to despair than I’ve ever been.”

“I’m sorry,” Adrian said, over and over. And, sometimes, “I’m so sorry.” Wishing he could put more power into the words.

Finally, she took a step back. Coming up on her toes, she put her hands on either side of his face, exploring the bone structure with her fingers. “When did you get so tall—and so sad?”

“I . . . need to explain . . . where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing . . . all this time,” he said awkwardly.

“And you will,” his mother said, pulling him close again. “Right now, I just want to hold on to you.”

In the background, he could hear Captain Byrne barking orders. One of them must have been to clear the room, because everyone disappeared, except for a handful of Wolves, including Ruby. They stayed close, keeping a close eye on Ash until Captain Byrne ushered the two of them into the small reception room attached to the queen’s private suite.

Byrne hesitated in the doorway. “It’s good to have you home again, Prince Adrian.”

“Prince Adrian” hit Ash’s ear wrong. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. Besides, he’d never really thought of himself as a prince—just the son of a queen, and the brother of the heir to the throne. He’d used so many names since he left home that none of them seemed quite right.

Byrne turned to the queen. “I’ll give the two of you some privacy. Is there anything else you need?”

In a way, Adrian dreaded the idea of privacy, terrified as he was of a heart-to-heart. He had no defense to offer, no excuse for what he’d done, and now he was getting ready to lie about it again.

“What about Lyss?” he said, asking what seemed an obvious question. “She should be here. I need to apologize to her. I made her a promise, and I’ve really let her down.”

“Lyss is at Chalk Cliffs,” his mother said, and bit her lip. She turned back to Byrne. “Tell the others that we’ll have a small reception after the council meeting tomorrow.”

Byrne cocked his head. “Will there be a council meeting tomorrow? I thought all meetings were cancelled this week.”

“That was before I began to believe in miracles again,” the queen said. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to discuss tomorrow.”

After Byrne saluted and left, Ash used flash to rekindle the fire on the hearth, spending considerably more time on it than the task required.

“Is that your father’s amulet?” she said finally, to his back.

Ash swung around to face her, his cheeks burning. “You’ve probably been wondering what happened to it. Da gave it to me that day in Ragmarket. I’ll understand if you want it back.”

The queen shook her head. “If he gave it to you, keep it. It suits you.” She motioned to two chairs under the window. “That will do, Adrian. Let’s sit.”

Ash sat. His mother sat across from him. He had too much to say, and no clue as to how to begin. He’d hoped she might begin spitting out questions, but she just kept looking at him as if memorizing every new detail.

Finally, she breathed deeply and said, “You smell of the road—sweat and horses and leather, meadowsweet and pine.” She put up a hand when he tried to apologize. “No. I like it. My father was a clan trader, and he always came home smelling like faraway places. It reminds me of something your father said once.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “He said, ‘I want to breathe you in for the rest of my life.’”