Page 61 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

“I can imagine that you feel conflicted about what has been brought to light today,” I start, not bothering to waste time before getting to the point. “But I would like to hear your thoughts on what course of action we might take moving forward.”

Milo waves his hand carelessly, as if brushing off an unimportant subject. I stiffen.

“Of course,” he lights a cigar and offers me the box. I take one, rolling it between my fingers without lighting it before abandoning it on the table beside me. “Mother was going to bring her home tomorrow. You can take her then if you’d like, or just stop to collect her from Mother on your way back to The Capital.”

The room grows cold as Milo speaks about his daughter as if she were nothing more than an unwanted pet that he is eager to place in another’s lap.

“Mhaylene and Ellya do not live here?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him. My fists clench tight when Milo laughs at the suggestion.

“Gods, no. They live in Mother’s cottage. You remember the place?”

“Why do they not live here, with the rest of your family?” I ask him, fighting to keep the waver from my voice. Lifting my glass to my lips, I toss back half of its contents, just for something to do with my hands rather than wrap them around his throat.

I had quietly observed Milo with his family and noticed throughout the day how his interactions with Ellya are different from his other children. He becomes tense when she is near him; his shoulders stiffen when she speaks to him.

It is apparent now that he is fully uncaring.

“It’s too painful to look at her,” he says as an empty excuse, shameless in his aloofness towards his daughter.

Attempting to control my anger, I wrap my head around the ways that Milo is choosing to fail his daughter.

“But it is not too painful to look at Tellisha’s sons?” I ask with lethal softness.

Milo stares out the window deep in thought and impatiently polishes off the remainders of his drink. “Women of our background rarely die in childbirth. Why Tellisha?” he asks, that bitterness again coating his words. “Why her?”

“I am sorry that you so tragically lost your wife, Milo, but I am sure that you do not mean to tell me that you blame Ellya for her death.” I stare daggers at him. He returns my gaze, feeding off my growing mountain rage.

“I didn’t want another child,” he spits at me.

Hisinsinuation efficiently lights the fire in me that was threatening to burn, and I leap to my feet. “This is how you would honor Tellisha’s memory? By snubbing your own daughter? You think that is what she would want?”

Milo’s chest puffs as he bows up on me in defense. “She can’t want anything now, can she, Alec? She’s dead.”

My arm rears back to throw my tumbler against the wall; broken glass and liquor rain down to the carpeted floor. “And you are a fucking coward!” I roar. “Rejecting your little girl who is clearly desperate for your love and approval. She is already growing up without her mother, you willingly deny her a father as well?”

“What does it matter? She has you now.” Milo turns away from me and angrily walks to the window, looking out over the city of Crane Hills below us—refusing to face me any longer.

“That is not the role I am meant to play in her life. She needs you just as much.” Although his back is still turned to me, I shake my head in disbelief at his empty silence. “But do not fret, Milo. I will gladly be the one to pick up your broken fucking pieces,” I throw at his craven back before storming out of the room. The door slams hard behind me, rattling portraits hung on the walls of the hallway.

Fuming, my fists clench all the way back to the apartments Ellya and Mhaylene are occupying during their apparently short stay at Rhydelle Castle.

My anger has not settled by the time I make it back, and I pace like a caged animal before the door. I try to slow my breaths while I push down the urge to return to Milo; to rip out his hateful heart with my bare hands to preserve and present to Ellya when she is grown.

Mhaylene must sense my restlessness. She opens the door to find me pacing and pulling at my hair. Her face holds endless sorrow, understanding where my fury is coming from.

“He isunreasonable,” I grit out. She nods at me sadly in agreement. “I am taking her home with me.” I give her a challenging look—daring her to try to stop me.

She does not, and only says, “Of course.”

Sighing, I smooth back my wild hair before telling her, “I am grateful that she has had you.”

Mhaylene and I stay up the rest of the night, discussing plans for her and Ellya to move to The Capital. My mind is lighter in the late evening hours, knowing there is a plan in place to protect Ellya from the failures of her father. When Mhaylene finally retires for the night, I peek in on Ellya while she sleeps.

The innocence of her aura shines brightly, not yet bruised by Milo. My chest constricts knowing that I cannot entirely save her from the hurts he will cause, but I will protect her from his failures in whatever ways I can.

I will single handedly ensure that she never doubts that she is loved and cherished.

All the plans Mhaylene and I made that night fell through only hours later with innocent words uttered from the mouth of a little girl.