State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(95)

But he couldn’t know that.

“It’s all right,” Mael continued, when Sorrow remained silent. “I understand. What you went through, growing up, because of me. What you’re going through now, again, on my account. I’d probably hate me too. It wasn’t my idea, you know, to run against you.”

“Then why are you?” She was truly curious. If what he was saying was true, then he did it knowing it would make her feel bad towards him, and yet he persisted in trying to befriend her. It made no sense.

“Because it’s my responsibility to,” he said simply. “I wasn’t lying when we first met and I said I wasn’t interested in being the chancellor. I truly wasn’t. I thought I’d come home, and Father would get better, and start to fix Rhannon. Lincel had told us what life in Rhannon was like, and I believed if I came back, things would change. Because it was my fault, in a way. Me being gone was what started it all.”

He paused, as if waiting for her to deny it, but Sorrow didn’t reply, her eyes fixed on the far end of the hall.

Mael sighed, then continued. “But he died. He didn’t have a chance to fix anything. So the task of healing Rhannon is my responsibility. It’s on me. I caused it, I have to mend it. I have to run against you, to prove to the people that I know that. If they don’t choose me, so be it. But how could I ever face them if I didn’t stand up and say to them I’d at least try to make things better, after they suffered so much for me?”

She believed him. Quite simply, and quite suddenly, she believed him. She’d never had a chance to hear his presentation in Prekara. She’d assumed he was saying the things she’d written in her manifesto, about wanting to heal the country, and its people, because he thought it’s what might help him win. But he meant it; every single word was drenched in sincerity. He had the same light behind his eyes that Luvian got when he was urging her to do something. That look of total and utter dedication, come what may. He really wanted to fix things. He really thought he could.

“How could I face you, too?” he continued. “You suffered, perhaps most of all. I hate that. You’re my little sister.”

She couldn’t help the harsh bark of laughter that escaped her.

The light in his gaze dimmed, and he swallowed. “I hope, when this is over, no matter how it ends, we can move past it. I won’t hate you if you win. I’m doing this because I think it’s right.” He rose and looked down at her. “And I won’t give up trying to make you like me. Or caring about you. We’re all the family each other has, and that means something to me.”

He walked away, only the barest slump to his shoulders.

She envied him. He truly believed he was Mael Ventaxis, not a shred of doubt in his mind. She realized then that she’d inadvertently done to herself what she’d hoped to do to him. In trying to prove he didn’t deserve a place in her life, she’d destroyed herself. It didn’t matter now, whether he was or wasn’t Mael Ventaxis. Because she wasn’t Sorrow Ventaxis.

As she watched him go, she caught Luvian’s eye, head tilted in inquiry. She nodded to say she was all right, though it was far from the truth.

She could see Luvian making his excuses to the group, planning to return to her, and she didn’t want it. Didn’t feel she could take him being light, and droll, and making clever comments. She didn’t have enough in her to laugh at them. No, Luvian wasn’t what she needed.

Sorrow rose swiftly and moved behind the tall grass, pausing to put her glass down before moving deeper into the room, taking advantage of the low lighting.

Across the room Mael had joined the Duke of Meridea and another man, who Sorrow assumed from his floor-length coat and the gold tattoo across his forehead was the ambassador of Nyrssea. She stood behind a palm and watched as they talked, Mael as at ease with them as Luvian had been with his crowd.

And she knew that this time last night, she could have been the same. Could have joined a group with confidence, because she belonged there. Belonged in this room of dukes and queens and ambassadors and politicians. Was their equal. But now she knew the truth. She was a cuckoo in the nest.

That was why she’d thought she’d recognized Mael, she realized, all those weeks ago. It was like calling to like. Imposter to imposter. Fool to fool. Two silly children who thought they knew what they were because they’d been told it. And now here they both were, fighting for a seat neither had the right to hold, both the puppets of people who’d decided their fates for them, whether for good or ill.

Mael and the Nyrssean clasped forearms, beaming at each other, before Mael left them, crossing the indoor woodland to where Lord Vespus still stood beside his sister, bowing before the queen, who welcomed him with a large smile. As Sorrow watched, she turned from Vespus, drawing Mael with her, Caspar following them, and a dark look crossed Vespus’s handsome face, his hand rising to smooth his hair back behind a pointed ear before he strode away, to where Aphora stood feeding one of the ruby-and-emerald birds with crumbs from her palm.

Despite everything else that was happening, her curiosity was piqued. Why was Vespus out of favour with Melisia? Was it a new development, or an older resentment?

Sorrow looked for the baron, only to see him standing with Eirlys and Rasmus in the far corner of the room. Both Rasmus and the princess were dressed in metallic finery; Princess Eirlys in a gown of gold and Rasmus in a frock coat of silver, over midnight-blue trousers.