arms.
“The law hasn’t changed,” Grom says quietly.
“So that’s it?” Mom throws her hands in the air. “What about me? I’ve been living on land for the last seventy years! I’ve broken the law, too, remember? I broke it before I ever left.”
Grom stands. “How can I forget?”
Mom touches his face, all her previous haughtiness diminished into remorse. “I’m sorry. I know that’s why we … But I can’t let Emma—”
Grom covers Mom’s mouth with his giant hand. “For once in your stubborn life, will you let me talk?”
She huffs through his fingers but says nothing else. I blink at the two of them, at the familiarity of it all. The way they know how to handle each other. The way they read each other. The way they act like me and Galen.
And I hate it.
And I hate that I hate it.
After Dad died, I told myself I wouldn’t be one of those bratty kids who made it difficult for their single parent to date someone else, or to find love with someone else or whatever. I wouldn’t be an obstacle to my mother’s happiness. It’s just that … well, I was operating under the assumption that she loved my dad, that they were made for each other, so she probably wouldn’t find anyone else anyway. Now I feel that Grom had intruded on their relationship the entire time. That maybe they could have loved each other if it weren’t for him.
And somehow I feel that since Mom and Dad didn’t love each other, then I’m less … important. That I’m the result of an accident that is still complicating the lives of people I love. I also hate that I’m allowing myself to have a pity party when clearly bigger things than myself are happening.
Feel free to grow up at any time, Emma. Preferably before you push away people you love.
Grom retracts his hand from Mom’s mouth, and uses his fingertips to caress her cheek. My new and improved grown-up self tries not to think Gag me, but I accidentally think it anyway.
“I was going to say,” Grom continues, “that I’m sure your transgression can be forgiven, under the circumstances. But I think we should concentrate on that first. I don’t think we should bring Emma up at all. Not yet. Solid food is for mature ones.”
I feel Galen relax beside me. He nods up at his brother. “Agreed.” Then he looks down at me. “They’ll need time to digest all this. Once Nalia explains everything, and enough time has passed for them to accept—”
“There’s something else,” Grom blurts. He rakes his hand through his hair, something Galen does when he’s particularly frustrated. I find my immature self thinking, I don’t want Grom and Galen to be alike, and then my grown-up self says, Knock it off. And then Grom says: “I’m already mated to Paca.”
The realization slaps us each in a different way.
Me, with elation.
Galen, with … I’m not sure. He hasn’t moved.
Mom, with horror.
Toraf, with open-mouth shock that makes him look a bit silly.
Rayna, with “You idiot,” she spits. “We told you—”
Grom points at her in the universal watch-yo-self sign. “No, you didn’t tell me. All you told me was that I shouldn’t mate with Paca. That she was a fraud. But you…” Grom turns to Galen. “And you didn’t tell me the truth. I won’t take the full blame for this.”
I can tell Rayna’s all kinds of mad, but Galen cows her with a look. “He’s right,” he tells his sister. Then he nods up at Grom. “But we didn’t know the truth—well, not the whole truth—until we got back to shore after you banned us from the territories. We didn’t know Nalia was alive, but we should have told you about Emma. But are you so sure you would have listened? Seemed like you’d already made up your mind.”
Grom pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Probably not. But I don’t think you understand what all this means.” By the way Galen cocks his head, I think Grom is right. In fact, by the way everyone holds their breath and looks at Grom, I think none of us knows what this means.
“It means, little brother,” Grom says, his voice full of bitter, “that you’re next in line to become Nalia’s mate.”
Ohmysweetgoodness.
8
EVERYONE IS quiet, as if Grom’s words deprive the air of its breathable qualities. Nalia takes her seat in a chair this time, instead of his lap. She stares up at Galen in horror,