Page 87

Thorne

T he next few days passed in a whirlwind.

Clarissa immediately chartered a ship to take her mother, Rose, Leo, Nox, and Devora back to the Veridian Empire, with a letter to her council explaining what occurred during her time here and a list of necessary actions for them to consider for when she returned.

I knew she was still partially tied down by their approval until the one-year mark was up on her provisional status as empress-elect, but I could see how much she hated having to give them an ounce of consideration.

Isabella Grimaldi was the acting Queen of Mysthelm in the wake of Galen’s death.

I did not envy her position. I remembered how she’d been somewhat absent as a mother to Galen, but she’d always been respected by our kingdom.

She was the only choice to help our people get back on their feet after the shocking blow Galen’s death dealt us.

But no parent should outlive their child.

My mother’s poison had done its job ravaging her body, and now her mind was shadowed in grief as well.

Rose had left us with the rest of the tonic she gave Isabella to help briefly clear the effects of the foxglove and hellebore, but she told us it wasn’t a permanent solution.

Just enough to give Isabella time to get her affairs in order .

The Grimaldi line was dying. Soon, it would be gone.

And it was my mother’s fault.

As much as Clarissa tried to convince me my guilt was misplaced, it didn’t erase the pit in my stomach. It didn’t erase the mounting pile of “what-ifs” and all the things I should have done, or the rose-colored glasses that blinded me to my mother’s machinations for so long.

I should have trusted my instincts. I should have seen through her condescension masked as motherly affection and known she was up to something more. But nobody wanted to believe someone they’d known their entire lives—someone they loved —was capable of such terrible things.

I kept my promise. I refused to let her see Marigold. And, Fates, if that wasn’t the hardest part of it all.

How was I supposed to explain to my seven-year-old daughter that she couldn’t see her grandmother anymore, the only other person besides me she called family?

The woman who’d read her nearly as many bedtime stories as I had, who watched her play dress-up and fixed her skinned knees and wiped the tears from her little cheeks.

Those big brown eyes, wide with confusion, were nearly my undoing.

“Your grandmother has done some very bad things, sweetheart. Things that have hurt people. I know it makes you sad, but our actions have consequences,” I told her that first night, while we were squeezed under the covers of her bed back in our house, shadows dancing on the walls from the fading candlelight.

Mia nestled into Marigold’s back—the two of them had been bound at the hip since we got back to the North Territory.

I thought Clarissa knew it brought Marigold comfort to have the pup nearby.

“But…why?” She buried her face in the crook of my elbow as Mia’s soft snores vibrated in the air. “Why would she hurt someone?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Do you remember the story of the lost princess? Where the golden-haired woman takes her away to the enchanted garden, but when she doesn’t get what she wants, she becomes cruel?

I think sometimes people get so angry that they take it out on others who don’t deserve it. ”

“If Grandma was angry…was she angry at me? Is that why I can’t see her?” Marigold asked, her voice so muffled, I could barely hear it.

My heart clenched. I forgot how small the world seemed to a child, how deeply sensitive she was toward those around her. I gathered her in my arms and kissed the top of her head as a sting formed behind my eyes.

“Of course not, Marigold. She was never angry with you. She knows you love her so much, and she loves you too. But there are some things that love can’t fix in a person if they let all the bad things control them instead.

Things like anger or fear or hatred.” I nudged her chin to look up at me, and her bottom lip trembled.

“You are none of those things, sweetheart. And absolutely none of this is your fault.”

I rocked her to sleep as she sniffled against me, then fell into a restless sleep of my own. This little girl and I had already been through so much together in her short life. I knew we’d get through this, too, but I would never stop wishing I could shield her from things.

Which was why I didn’t immediately tell her of Clarissa’s invitation to join her in the Veridian Empire.

There was so much change going on, I needed a moment of reprieve.

I didn’t want to be selfish with my daughter’s life.

I had to make the best decision for both of us, not just my heart.

Would moving our family give her the best chance for happiness?

Or would it simply cause more pain? Would their people even accept us?

There were so many unanswered questions, one of which being the idea of my father still being alive all the way across the waters. Clarissa had gently broached the subject during one of our evenings together—was that something I wanted to pursue? If we moved to the empire, would I want to find him?

I simply didn’t know.

And there was too much commotion in the palace in those first few days after Galen’s death for me to dwell on it for long.

The regent families arrived as quickly as they could, and we got to work.

Statements had to be written and rewritten to inform the kingdom of his passing, his disorganized office with countless records and requests had to be filtered through, and most importantly, we had to figure out where the monarchy went from here once the Grimaldi line ceased to exist.

We all met with Isabella day in and day out.

One thing had become clear over the past months with Galen on the throne: the regents did more work in their respective territories than we’d ever been given credit for.

We were the ones the people turned to in times of need.

Disasters, crimes, financial struggles. We knew what our territories required better than anyone.

I’d seen that for myself as we spent time with them on the tour—even the self-righteous Rhys Penworth ultimately wanted to do right by his people.

Perhaps the answer truly was that simple.

Dion Silenus was the first one to suggest it.

Some sort of ruling body made up of the regent families, built to keep each other in line but with enough power to take care of their territories.

No more requesting permission from the crown to rebuild the ports when storms came through, no more waiting for funds when entire fields of crops were burned in wildfires.

I was inclined to agree with his ideas. Maybe it was time for Mysthelm to make a change. We knew it wouldn’t happen within a few panic-induced meetings, but it was a starting point.

I spent my days in close quarters with the other regents, poring over notes and settling disagreements.

Breaking up a fight or two. Nothing that wasn’t expected when this many big personalities shared a space.

It left me exhausted, both physically and mentally, and getting to go home to Clarissa was like peeling back the curtains of a dark room and letting the sunshine in.

She’d told her family when they set sail to the empire that she would follow them in a week’s time.

She felt a personal obligation to help Isabella get things settled before taking off—her heart was so big, her concern for others so all-encompassing.

And I knew a bit of guilt would always linger over the part she believed she played in Galen’s death. This was her way of making up for it.

So, while my days were consumed by meetings, my nights were consumed by her.

I’d forgotten what it was like to love so freely. Before, she had been like a story in one of Marigold’s books—beautiful and enrapturing, but when you got to the end, the last page was ripped out. She was a tale I was never meant to know the ending of. Never meant to be part of.

Now…she was the end. She and Marigold were all I saw when I looked at my future. And it was the most beautiful future I could never deserve.

But there were still so many unknowns. This wasn’t a fairytale—as much as I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and ride off into the sunset. I had no idea what our lives would look like if I uprooted everything Marigold and I had built here.

I had told Clarissa yes. There was just one last piece of the puzzle.

I knocked on Marigold’s door, which was already cracked. I could see the corner of her arm and her dolls moving up and down on the opposite side of the room. “It’s me,” I called.

“Daddy, you’re home!” she squealed.

I pushed the door open wider as she and Mia both ran up to me, one wrapping her arms around my waist and the other circling my feet.

I smiled when I saw Clarissa sitting on the floor, a female doll in her grip and a male one lying on its back, its legs bent at an odd angle.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you girls having…fun?”

“Rissa’s showing me and my dolls how to fight!” Without warning, Marigold jumped back and kicked at my waist. I quickly grabbed her ankle before she could make contact and shot Clarissa a bemused look.

“Good form, but what did we talk about?” Clarissa asked .

Marigold giggled when I tickled her calf. “Only when I feel unsafe.”

“There you go.” Clarissa winked at me. “What? Is this not what they’re teaching little girls nowadays?”

I chuckled and shook my head, releasing Marigold’s leg and ruffling her hair. “You’ll have to show me what else Rissa is teaching you after dinner, yes?”

She nodded eagerly. “Is she staying the night again?”

I glanced over her head toward Clarissa. She’d been sleeping at the mansion ever since her family left four nights ago. “Yes, she is.”