in the Sutherland bloodline and as the worst King who’s ever ruled over Northshire.”
With that, I turn away from my father and walk out of the room.
Chapter Eleven
Jocelyn
I’ve been pacing in my bedroom for the last hour. I can’t get my brothers out of my mind.
Are they okay?
Did they hurt them?
Are they hungry?
I wish I could make time move faster. The next part of our plan can’t happen until tomorrow evening and it’s going to be agony having to wait that long. Not to mention having to pretend that I’m having fun at my own celebration. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that the time spent waiting will be much easier on me than it will be on them. My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on my door.
“Who is it?” I call out.
“It’s me.”
Mother.
I don’t want to see anyone, least of all her or Father. But I need to act as though I’ve accepted Father’s decision. The only way I can make people believe I have, is to let them see me pretending to be okay.
Opening my door, I let her in.
“Jocelyn.”
Standing out of the way, I allow her to enter my room. Closing the door, I turn to her. She looks like a wreck.
“I should have explained everything last week when you asked me. I’m sorry.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered, Mother. Nothing you could have said to me would have made me want to stay here any longer.”
“You weren’t supposed to happen.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your father and I tried for years to have more children after Benjamin.”
“Benji,” I interrupt her.
Confusion swirls around on her face.
“He hates being called by his full name. Want to know why? It reminds him of you. Because of some song you used to sing to him when he was sad.”
She looks away, shame clear on her face. Walking toward the fireplace, her eyes glaze over as she stares into the flames as if they hold the secrets of the past.
“We tried having more children for years after he was born. In eight years, we were blessed with seven children who never made it to full term. Until you.”
Breaking her trance, she sits on the sofa in front of the fireplace and I join her.
“As the ninth month drew nearer, your father lost his way.”
“He lost his mind, is what you mean, I think,” I interrupt her.
She was offering too fair of a description regarding his behavior.
“Yes, I suppose that’s more accurate,” she agreed before continuing. “Because I hadn’t lost you, he was certain you had to be a girl. He believed that God, himself, had spoken and said we weren’t supposed to have any more boys. That he would bless us with a daughter instead. Thinking you were going to be the second-coming of Christ, your father insisted that it was your destiny to rule Northshire. He was convinced your brothers would try to take it from you. That they needed to be stopped; killed. I tried tirelessly to make him listen to reason. In the end, he told me if I didn’t leave it alone, he would kill all thirteen of you.”
She pauses a moment and looks at me. I can feel the sadness emanating from her. It seeps into my skin and I’m powerless to push it away like I did earlier, downstairs.
“When I started to feel signs that you were coming, secretly, I sent for your brothers so I could say goodbye. Then, I told James to take everyone and wait in the woods. That I would send word when it was safe for them to come home. I was convinced you were a boy. We’d already had twelve happy, healthy boys before you. Why would I think you were to be any different?”
Mother takes my hand in hers before she continues.
“But I wasn’t a boy.”
“No. You were, are, my beautiful baby girl. Your father was furious when he found out I told your brothers to leave. I thought after a little time that he would change his mind and I’d be able to send for them. They would come back here and we could all finally be a family again, but he told me he would kill them if they ever tried. He also threatened to take you away from me if I didn’t leave it alone. I thought I was doing what I needed to do to protect all of my children. My sons were gone, but at least they weren’t dead.”