Page 128 of Dance of Thorns

“Oh,shit, it's zoomed all the way in!”

The second voice stops me cold.

I've only heard it in recordings and videos from before I was born.

Because the owner of that slightly husky yet gorgeously feminine voice died giving birth to me.

It’smy mom.

“Be careful of her head!” Mom laughs, her voice still happy, though tired.

Agatha’s zoomed-in face snickers. “Which one?! Don’t you scold me,” she laughs. “I’ve held babies before, you know, thank you very much!”

Wait.

What?

Agatha’s brows knit. “You’re still recording, hon.”

“Fuck.”

Agatha laughs. “Watch that potty mouth in front of them!”

I stare at the screen, hungry for answers.

“Oh! Found the zoom button.”

“Good,” Agatha smiles. “Now, get a good shot of me and my grand babies.” She shoots the camera a look. “And you’d better believe that’s what I’m calling them.”

“Well,” Mom laughs sweetly, “you’re the closest thing to a mother I have, so I think that's fair.”

An old-sounding cellphone rings in the background.

“Oh, shit! That might be him,” Mom blurts, still out of frame. She puts the camera down, and I laugh when it tilts wildly, angling away from Agatha.

“Is it him?” Agatha asks anxiously. “Does he have the passports?!”

My pulse skips.

“Dammit, no,” Mom sighs. “Just the dry cleaners. Cesare’s shirts are ready.”

Agatha snorts in disgust. “He’ll be picking up his own damn shirts soon enough. Or going shirtless for all I care.”

“Ahem. What happened to not swearing in front of them?”

The camera goes right side up again, zooms out, and swings back to Agatha.

What the fuck.

Two tiny infants are swaddled in matching pink and white blankets with little pink caps on their heads, each of them tucked under one of Agatha’s arms as she sits in a rocking chair.

A rustic cabin window behind her looks out over waves crashing against a sandy, rocky, wintery beach.

Agatha beams down at the two sleeping little ones with a happy sigh. “He might be a bastard,” she sighs. “But you two made some beautiful babies.”

My heart stops.

“Don’t worry, my little birds,” she coos. “You won’t have to think about that horrible man ever again once we leave.”