wanted, and you can finally be rid of me.”
“What?” She pressed her hand to my forehead, expression tight. “I don’t want to be rid of you, Emilie. I’m here to—”
“You always tried to get rid of me. Piece by piece. All those little parts you hated—the things I liked, the friends I made, the way I looked, how I spoke, the arts I did. You rid me of them every day growing up. You wore them down till sometimes I hated them. How can you love me and say that, if every part of me is something you hate?” I sobbed and dropped my chin to my chest, her hands slowly sliding from my shoulders. There it was—debridement and Lord did it hurt. “Do you know how often I tried to show you what I could do and was met by punishment or horror? You looked at me like I was a monster! I was never good enough for you. I know it. I have known it for years. So stop lying to me and tell me why you’re here.”
She stared, mouth open, eyes so wet and wild, she looked nothing like herself, and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“I have finally done something I’m proud of,” I said through clenched teeth. If I moved any more, I would break. “Responsibility demands sacrifice, and if you want to be a good mother and comtesse, you will do whatever you can to stop Waleran because so many people are going to die who don’t have to. If you help them, if you help His Majesty, disown me in death because I don’t want your name on my grave. And if Annette is hurt for this, I will rip myself from death to make you pay.”
“Emilie.” Her fingers curled around my shoulder, loose and trembling. “Annette is fine. Vivienne Gardinier is dead, and Annette’s arrest is more complicated than you think, but she is fine. I made sure of that.”
“Well,” I said, rubbing my wet face against my shoulder, “at least there is that.”
“And you’re not being executed. Laurel made a deal.”
“What? No, no, no, they can’t do that.” I jerked forward, shackles weighing me down. “Mother, you have to stop them.”
“Darling, they made the deal yesterday.” She swallowed. “Laurence du Montimer and Estrel Charron confessed to starting Laurel and forming the group, and they provided quite a lot of evidence to prove it. They agreed to turn themselves in peacefully so long as certain conditions—like ensuring you, Annette, and anyone else arrested were allowed to live—were met.”
“Laurence is Laurel?” I laughed, breath a whistle between my cracked lips. “No, he’s not. He hates politics, and it’s his name. He’s not foolish enough to use his name for that. He bad-mouthed those flyers from Delest to Segance.”
“It’s his name and Estrel’s,” she said softly. “They started it when they were younger, right after the fights with Vertgana when Laurence abandoned his training as a chevalier and returned to university.”
Laurence du Montimer and Estrel Charron—each one a half of the original Laurel.
“Laurence stayed out of politics in order to avoid suspicion while he funded the rebellion, and he exaggerated his feud with Estrel so when he was asked to find Laurel, he could clear her name. Then, when she began scrying and divining for the crown against Laurel, all she had to do was lie. The revolt has been years in the making, but Estrel gave it a name and—”
“She and Laurence agreed to take the blame if the revolt was ever in danger, didn’t they? That’s why they named it Laurel.”
Laurel would die, the crown would be sated, and the revolt could live on and rise up, unsuspected. The crown could be taken by surprise, thinking Laurel was dead, and overthrown.
She nodded.
“They couldn’t broker peace with Kalthorne, but no one else is to be executed for their roles in Laurel and, within the week, war or no, the crown must address Laurel’s complaints and appoint a council elected by countrymen, not nobles. There are very strict stipulations that Demeine must follow.” She took a deep breath and shuddered. “They designed a failsafe, you see. If their demands are not met, even after death, the artistry they did for His Majesty, the chevaliers, the university, and members of the noble houses will be undone. All of Laurence’s healing will fail and Estrel’s texts on disasters and futures and how to avoid them will burn. Her illusions at the borders keeping us safe will fall. Given