The Betrothed (The Betrothed #1) - Kiera Cass Page 0,85
thinking of all the little details—“she was the firstborn, and that sometimes holds weight in Isolte. In the past, there were pockets of people who favored her son, Swithun, and her line has been so strong and upstanding, which couldn’t be said for many of the other lines before they died off. . . . .”
Her eyes suddenly went somewhere else, as if looking at a picture in the ground I could not see. “I think the king hasn’t bothered with the Northcotts as they’ve managed to nearly cut off the line without much help. . . .” She blinked a few times, coming back to her point.
“Dashiell and I raised our children to know who they were, whose blood they carried, and how that made them enemies of the king. They understood why we set guards outside their doors some nights, why we visited the castle to pay homage for even the smallest event in King Quinten’s life. If Scarlet and I die, it will be with honor. If you die? It’s because of our association. That would be too much for me to carry.”
I stood, moving to the window. Mother always said that when you absolutely must make a decision, do it in sunlight. As a child I thought it was her way of making me wait for answers that she never wanted to give, ones I always seemed to ask before bed. But sometimes I still did it. I hoped it would clear any clouds in my mind.
“Do you intend to just march up to King Quinten? Tell him you’re his faithful servant after he just murdered your family?”
“Indeed, I do.” She closed her eyes for a moment, taking her own words in. “I will confirm his hopes that the male line has ended, and then I will swear my loyalty. Even if it wouldn’t save you, I think we’d have to go back. For better or for worse, Isolte is our home, and I want to protect it, try to save what good there is while there’s still time. Because one day, that wicked old man will die. He will die and leave a fractured kingdom, and I would be shocked if anyone could muster the will to mourn him.
“It’s risky. He could kill you on sight and truly end your line. Have you considered that?”
“He could,” she allowed, resigned to a truth that I supposed had been a part of her since the day she married, “but my life has been a long one. I have used it to love, and I have used it to mother. I have used it in worry and in fleeing. Now I will use it to guard. I will guard Isolte by going back to it and you by leaving. So, you see, we have to go.”
The sun was giving me nothing. I could see it, I could even feel its warmth . . . but it didn’t change a thing. I turned, burying myself in her arms.
“I don’t know if I can do this alone.”
“Nonsense,” she insisted in a tone that was unmistakably motherly. “Think of all you managed to accomplish in the last few months. If anyone could manage this, it’s you. You’re a very smart young lady.”
“Then will you listen to me when I say it’s foolish to go back?”
She chuckled. “You may be right. But I can’t spend my final years in hiding. I must face my monster.”
“A monster,” I echoed. That was exactly what Quinten was. “Quite frankly, I’d rather face a dragon than be alone here.”
“I will write you so often that you will be drowning in letters. I will write even when there’s nothing worth writing about, to the point you may start to wish we were never related at all.”
“Now you’re the one talking nonsense. I love you the way I loved the rest of your family: from the first day, wholly, and without reason.”
“Stop. You’ll make me cry again, and I already hurt from doing it too much.” She kissed my head. “Now, I need to make arrangements for burials. You do as well. . . . I hope it won’t offend anyone if we don’t make a ceremony of this. I just want to put my dead to rest.”
She looked down and cleared her throat. Except for the quick outburst the night before, she’d been working hard to keep her emotions at bay. I suspected it was for my sake.
“And then,” she began again, her voice less steady than