Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,67
Hardwick’s chest, like someone trying to protect a candle flame from the wind. And it made sharp, pecking motions at Hardwick himself, urging him to go to her.
He was too scared to move.
When he thought of calling out to her, his throat went dry. Each breath he inhaled seemed to chill his whole body and the silence left after the shouting in the breakfast room echoed in his ears.
Say something, he told himself. For God’s sake, it’s Christmas, and you just watched her family tear itself apart. Say something!
“Delphine—”
“Were they lying?”
“What?”
Delphine’s voice was slightly muffled. “In there. Everyone who was yelling. My grandparents, Pebbles… were they lying?”
“No.” Hardwick’s shoulders slumped.
Delphine gave a damp chuckle and wiped one hand across her face. She was still looking away, but Hardwick was putting two and two together now. Her carefully even breaths. The dampness in her voice.
“You’re crying,” he said, stupidly.
Delphine hiccupped. “I’m not—I am, but it’s just—” She raised both hands to her face and let them fall with a gasp of frustration. “It’s nothing I didn’t expect.”
The truth in those five words made Hardwick’s teeth ache.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have protected you better. I meant what I said to your grandfather, about being the sort of person who helps people. I thought I was helping you by standing by your side, but I should have seen the risk. You told me you wanted—”
“—I wanted to stop feeling everyone’s expectations on me. Shaping me. Making me into something I’m not. Or might not be.” She wrapped her arms around herself, still staring out towards the Christmas trees. There was a long, icy silence. “I don’t know if that is what I wanted, now.”
“Delphine, I’m so sorry. I…”
“Stop.” She turned around. Her eyes were red, and there were flecks of tears on her cheeks that she hadn’t yet wiped away, but her expression was determined. “I’m not angry at you. I’m not—I don’t even know if I’m angry at Vance and Anders. I’m… angry at myself.”
“That’s worse,” he growled, and she snorted.
“I’ve been such an idiot. I thought I was doing this for my family. For—for the Belgrave family name, or something. That’s what I told myself. For years! And now it’s all out in the open, and that was all a lie. I let the twins walk right into my grandfather’s trap. It’s my fault. I was only trying to save myself the whole time, not even thinking about what they would go through. And I don’t care what my grandmother or grandfather say at all, or my aunts and uncles, only—”
She stopped and her eyes filled with tears. He pulled her to him at once and she leaned into him, pressing all her weight against his as though she wanted his hug to swallow her whole.
“Mum looked at me like I’d broken her heart. She didn’t even say anything. I know—I know I’ve been lying to them all this whole time. I know that. I just…”
She buried her face against his chest.
“I didn’t expect it to hurt so little with the rest of them and so much with her,” she said miserably. “I want—I’ve always wanted it not to be true, what I am, because it means that everything she and Dad were fighting for when they got together was wrong, after all. Them being together didn’t magically turn out all right. Dad died, and I’m not even a real Belgrave. Even if the twins are, I’m… broken. And I wanted… I wanted…”
She clung to him, desperation in every word. And truth. Hardwick’s heart ached for her. He’d wanted to save her—but how could he save her from this?
His griffin strained to find a hint of untruth in what she was saying. Nothing. Delphine was telling the truth, just as he’d wanted, and it was breaking his heart.
All her lies had been to protect herself, after all. And she hadn’t even realized it.
“I wanted my mother to still love me, even if nobody else did. How can she? The way she was looking at me. She’s ashamed of me. I’m ashamed of me.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m not ashamed of you.”
Delphine’s head jerked up. She stared blindly past Hardwick, and he turned, still protecting her with his body, until he could see who had spoken.
It was her mother. Sara Belgrave, with her laughing housecat eyes, who must have snuck out after them on cat-quiet feet. The twins were right behind her. He’d never thought either of them capable of being quiet,