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Mother wrinkled her nose. “But he was cocky and too serious sometimes. Gustav made me laugh in those days.”

Grace paled. Father, cocky and serious, like James. Gustav, the one who brought her joy. She knew where her mother was going, and her heart ached for it.

“In the end, though, the real reason I didn’t want to marry your father was because he was a Protector.”

Grace blinked. “What?”

Mother watched Grace as she spoke. “My childhood revolved around being a Protector. My parents trained me earlier, far earlier than your father and I started training you. And I was trained in archery not because I loved it, but because they needed an archer in the next generation. And I just didn’t want my marriage, my entire future, to revolve around the Protectors too.”

“Then why did you choose Father?”

“I almost didn’t. I was so set on not choosing him because he was a Protector, I almost missed what was in front of me.” Mother smiled. “Your father got jealous and competed with Gustav in anything he could.”

This was the part Grace had heard. Mother laughed. “I was annoyed. I spent so much time at the fortress arguing with him.” Her eyes stared into the distance, seeing something Grace couldn’t. “And then arguments became debates, and debates became discussions, and before I knew it, I looked forward to time at the Fortress with your father far more than the superfluous outings with Gustav.”

Mother looked to Grace, eyes laden with meaning Grace tried to understand. “But your father was a Protector. And I didn’t want to marry a Protector.”

Grace stared at her mother. What did she mean by this? “But you did anyway.”

“No. I didn’t marry ‘a Protector.’ I married Lucus Robbins, a man who valued my thoughts and listened when I talked. Someone who saw in me talent, and in whom I saw worth and kindness. That’s what I saw, just in time. It wasn’t that he was a Protector; it was him, who he was and what choices he made. And, yes, being a Protector was a part of who he was, and that was important. Because being a Protector wasn’t just having the title. It was caring about Fidara and caring about others.

“Grace… it isn’t about being a Clairmont, or a Patton or a Robbins. Your father and I may have guided you away from the Clairmonts in the past, and I’d do it again, because I wanted my children far from the anger that I know Gustav possesses, that I…,” she paused, breathed, and continued. “That I felt turn to violence when I started to argue with him.

“Even now, being cautious about Gustav’s son isn’t terrible. It isn’t uncommon for children to become like the parents who raise them.” She brushed Grace’s cheek. “Look at you. A brilliant Protector, with stealth like your father, a heart of gold, and monkey skills like my brother, who you didn’t even know well.

“But, in the end, fledgling, every individual has a choice. Does Garrick choose to behave like his father?”

Grace shook her head. Garrick had tried to save her brother in the archery competition. And had stood up to his father’s cruelty to Lizzy. He was tender and kind. “No, but—” Her worries returned. “What if I’m wrong? You thought the sheriff was fun, but he became so cruel. How can I be sure?”

Mother smiled sadly. “Nothing in life is a guarantee. He may not be like his father, but he won’t be perfect. Neither is James. And”—Mother chucked her under the chin—“neither are you. All you can do is your best, and make the best choice you know how.”

Grace sighed. “Well, that’s depressing.”

Mother laughed. “Or… it’s exciting.”

Grace knew she looked as skeptical as she felt.

“Don’t tell me my monkey of a fledgling doesn’t enjoy a bit of heart-pounding risk. I’ve seen you leap through the trees. My heart has stopped one too many times.”

Grace snorted. “I had a verdure cloak on.”

“Every time you did it?”

Grace tried to look innocent. This month’s adventure had included tree-climbing and leaping excursions without the protective wards of the cloak.

“As I thought.” Mother squeezed her hand and stood. “You know, I do like that Clairmont boy. It sent Mayor Nautin into a furious bout of pouting every time Garrick asked you to dance.”

Grace looked at her mother in shock. “What?”

Mother chuckled. “Sandra Ferrer spent hours worrying to me about how that boy of hers was spending so much time with a Clairmont. But you know, I think Jonathan was a good influence on Garrick. Maybe the poor child got a glimpse of how life could be outside of the Clairmont way.”

Jonathan had spent time with Garrick? When? She’d never seen it.—Was her mother confusing Garrick with James, as Grace had done so many times this week?

“Funny way life has, of circling us round to where we didn’t think we were going. Now, get some rest. We need you,” Mother said.

“Mother?”

“Hmm?”