Page 89 of The Curse of the Goddess

“That tattletale,” Maris muttered against Valda’s chest, her hand moving to cling to the back of Valda’s shirt. “I would say not to believe her, but I know my suggestion would fall on deaf ears.”

“I’m already blind. Is that not enough?” Valda teased, her heart swelling with affection for the playful banter.

“It is, my Queen,” Maris replied, her lips brushing against Valda’s shoulder in a tender gesture.

Valda chortled, pressing her nose to Maris’s hair once again. “If you’re in too much pain, I could take you to the pools and have you swim there,” Valda suggested, willing to do whatever it took to ease Maris’s discomfort.

When Maris tensed in her arms she gently pressed her forehead to Maris’s. “The pool is filled with Sealian water. It’s known for its medicinal properties and coming into contact with it may do your body good, being from your kingdom,” Valda said softly.

Maris’s breath hitched, and she pulled away, whispering, “A pool full of Sealian water?” Valda’s hand passed over the goosebumps forming on Maris’s arms.

“Yes,” Valda replied. “We built it in the hopes that the waters would heal us too, but it didn’t work. However, my mother insisted on keeping it. We could go tomorrow at first light if you’re interested.”

Maris hesitated, and then asked, “Is... is it deep?”

Valda opened her eyes, surprised by the question. “Yes,” she answered, noticing the tension in Maris’s body. “Is that a problem?”

Maris confessed, sounding ashamed, “I don’t know how to swim.”

Valda tensed up in response. “You—” She pulled back, giving herself space to process what Maris had just said. “You’re Sealian. Every single one of you is born with the natural ability to swim.”

“I’ve never swum before,” Maris admitted.

Valda frowned in confusion and disbelief, untangling her legs from Maris, and sitting up straight. “Never?”

Maris explained, “I live in a desert. I don’t have many opportunities to go swimming.”

Valda’s jaw dropped, her eyebrows arching in surprise. “We do. After my father’s death, my mother prepared a space for the survivors. They had man-made lakes, like in New Agenor,” Valda scoffed, her upper lip twitching. “The lakes were open to everyone, including Sealians who didn’t live there.”

“I didn’t know—” Maris stammered.

Valda interrupted, “Did your parents know?”

Maris sat up straight, her voice firm but gentle, “I don’t know.”

“You’re telling me that your parents adopted you as an infant, raised you until your... how old were you when your mother killed herself?” Valda’s words were sharp, filled with incredulity.

“Valda.” Maris’s voice was sharp with warning, a mix of strength and sweetness, trying to prevent Valda from crossing a line.

“And they never took you to enjoy the waters of your kingdom? Instead, they kept you locked up like some prisoner.” Valda’s tone dripped with poison, her hands clenching the bed sheets beneath her as she moved in closer. She wasn’t mad at Maris, she was mad at her parents for not allowing her to experience who she was. Everyone deserved to know where they came from. Why had Maris been denied the chance?

“Valda!” Maris’s warning came again, sharper this time. “I will not tolerate disrespect to the memory of my parents. I want this conversation over.” Maris’s words were firm, final.

Anger surged inside Valda. How dare Maris silence her. “I will speak of whatever I want in my room, my castle, my kingdom.” She leaned in closer, invading Maris’s personal space with her imposing figure. “Now tell me, what did your parents teach you?

“They taught me well enough to know when I am being disrespected.” Maris’s response was measured, composed.

Valda frowned deeply. “Who are you, Maris?” She pressed her fist to the bed. “A Sealian with no connection to her birthplace, with parents that kept her locked away like some exotic animals. You come into my castle, you come into my bedchamber, you are here, with me, shifting everything I am, and for what?”

“I didn’t come here for you, I came—” Maris stuttered; the bed shifted again.

“Why are you here, Maris? Is it because you are part of the coup?” Valda eyebrow raised. “Arwin was right.”

“No! He is not. Stop it, Valda.” Maris’s voice was a plea, trying to diffuse the escalating tension.

“Is that why the crown never helped your family after your father’s death? Because he was a fucking traitor who was sick in the head?” Valda’s words were sharp, fueled by her anger. Arwin was right about her.

Right?

---