A Feast of Dragons - By Morgan Rice Page 0,47

and it resounded loudly in the empty corridors. She waited what felt like forever, until finally a servant opened the door and stared back cautiously. It was Hafold, the old nurse who had been her mother’s attendant as long as she could remember. She was older than the Ring itself, and she stared back at Gwen disapprovingly. She was more loyal to her mother than anyone she knew; they were like the same person.

“What do you want?” she asked, curt.

“I’m here to see my mother,” Gwen responded.

Hafold stared back disapprovingly.

“And why would you want to do that? You know your mother does not wish to see you. I presume you made it quite clear that you do not wish to see her, either.”

Gwen stared back at Hafold, and it was her turn to give a disapproving stare. Gwen was feeling a new strength overcoming, her father’s strength rising through her, and she felt less of a tolerance for all of these overbearing, authoritative types who wielded their disapproval on the younger generation like a weapon. What gave them all the right to be so superior, so disapproving of everyone and everything?

“It is not your place to question me, and it is not my place to have to explain myself to you,” Gwen said back firmly. “You are a servant to this royal family. I am royalty, lest you forget. Now move out of my way. I am here to see my mother. I am not asking you—I am telling you.”

Hafold’s face fell in surprise; she stood there, wavering, then stepped out of the way as Gwen stormed past her.

Gwen took several steps into the room and as she did, she spotted her mother, seated at the far end of the chamber. She could see the broken chess pieces, still lying on the floor, the table on its side. Gwen was surprised to see her mother had left it that way. Then she realized that her mother probably wanted it as a reminder. Maybe it was a reminder to punish her. Or maybe their argument had gotten to her, after all.

Gwen saw her mother seated there, in her delicate yellow velvet chair, beside the window, facing out, the sunlight hitting her face. She wore no makeup, she was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and her hair looked as if it had not been done in days. Her face looked old, sagging, lines etched where Gwen had not noticed them before. Gwen could hardly believe how much she had aged since her father’s death—she barely recognized her. She could feel what a toll her father’s death had taken on her, and despite herself, she felt some compassion for her. At least they had shared one thing in common: a love for her father.

“Your mother is not well,” came Hafold’s harsh voice, walking up beside her. “It will not do for you to disturb her now, whatever matter it is that you’ve come to inquire—”

Gwen spun.

“Leave us,” Gwen commanded.

Hafold stared back, horrified.

“I will not leave your mother unattended. It is my duty to—”

“I said leave us!” Gwen screamed, pointing at the door. Gwen felt stronger, harsher than she ever had, and she could actually hear the authority of her father’s voice coming through.

Hafold must have recognized it, too, must have recognized that this was no longer the young girl she had been accustomed to knowing. Her eyes open wide in surprise, and maybe fear, and she scowled, turned, and hurried from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Gwen crossed the room and locked the door; she did not want any more spies in here to hear what she was about to say.

She turned and went back to her mother’s side. To Gwen’s upset, her mother had not flinched, had not reacted to any of it; she remained seated there, staring out the window. She wondered if she could even speak anymore, if this was just a waste of time.

Gwen knelt by her side, reached up and placed a hand on hers, gently.

“Mother?” she asked, using her gentlest voice.

To Gwen’s disappointment, there came no response. She felt her heart shattering. She did not know why, but she felt a tremendous sadness overcoming her. And somehow, for the first time, she felt herself able to understand her mother—and even to forgive her.

“I love you, mother,” she said. “I’m sorry for all that has happened. I really am.”

Despite herself, Gwen felt tears well up. She did not know if she was crying for the loss of