Page 74 of Joined By Magic

The look he gave Mum wasn’t friendly. He hated surprises at the best of times. I put a hand on his arm, then froze. We were home now. Should I be using full royal protocols again?

Mum stared at my hand on the prince’s shirt in shock, then bowed to him. “Your Highness, might we head somewhere more private?”

The prince pointed at a servant. “You. Escort them to the green audience chamber.” He turned his black gaze on me. “I’ll be along once I’ve got the prisoners secured. I’ll expect a concise explanation.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” I bowed, the movement awkward after so long without formality. It chafed me. Rasped against my nerve endings.

The servant bowed low. We followed him from the room.

The servant seated us in a small, airy room overlooking the gardens. Murals depicting foliage covered the walls—a deep, forest green that reminded me with a pang of our home by the lake. What would happen to it now? Would it fall into disrepair again?

I shook my head to dispel the thought, took a sip of the ice-cold water the servant had produced from somewhere, and eyed my mum. Now the initial rush of emotion had settled, confusion and an icy finger of anger crept in to replace it. I’d mourned her for years, and she’d been alive the whole time?

She’d aged. She was heavier than I remembered. Had more lines around her eyes. The incremental changes that go unnoticed day to day but are stark and shocking after a long absence. She reached for my hand, but I pulled it back. I felt abruptly fragile. Brittle. As if a touch could crack me into pieces.

My mum rested her hand on the table and took a breath.

“I’m sorry.” Her words hung suspended. I gave no response.

“I never wanted you to suffer.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“It was . . .” A sob racked her body, and she clenched her fists before continuing. “I wasn’t just a server in the palace. I spied for the king. No one notices servers—we’re as good as invisible. I had money saved in a secret account for you and Pia. I wanted you to have a better life.”

The heavy truth landed with a thump as she sniffed and dabbed her eyes. Everything she’d told me growing up had been a lie. The anger inside me grew hotter.

“What the hell happened? We grieved you! You couldn’t manage one fucking call to tell us you were alive?”

She flinched and looked away. Guilt shrouded her. “My crawler really was attacked, but it was the king’s men. They killed the other servants and brought me to him. He told me he had a job for me—the most important job I’d ever do—but it had to be secret. No one could know I was still alive, not even you. I refused.”

She sobbed again, and the urge to take her hand was strong, painfully so, but I wasn’t ready to let go of the anger yet. Years of pain had taken a heavy toll.

“He laughed at me. He said it was already done, and if I tried to contact anyone, he’d kill you and Pia. I begged him to give you access to the secret account, but he refused, said it’d be too suspicious. He said my only hope of seeing either of you again was to do as he asked and make the mission a success. The king knew the Lord Commander was his son, even then. He had some contacts in the Dexian palace, and he’d bribed one of them into getting me a position as his private secretary.”

I struggled my way through the words, trying to make sense of them. I was still furious, but the anger shifted, swinging from my mum toward the king. He’d done this. What would I have done in my mum’s place? Probably the same thing she had. My brain felt battered, overloaded with emotion to the point it almost shut down, leaving me blank.

Mum dissolved into tears again. “Was it hard? Did things go bad for you and Pia? When I heard you’d ended up in the Collection . . . I know the things they—”

“Don’t say it like that.” A whiplash crack of anger flashed through me. “There’s nothing shameful about it. I tried so hard to keep us afloat, and nothing worked. I stole some money from the Hounds—”

Her head shot up with a gasp. “Oh, Talia. No!”

I sighed. “It’s okay. The prince took care of it.”

“The prince . . .” She rubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I never wanted . . .” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Does he hurt you?”

Another irrational flash of fury. “No! I—” I clenched my hands into fists. “You don’t need to look at me in that pitying way. It’s not something bad. I . . .” How to describe my feelings toward the prince? “I chose to be with him. I like him.”

A pathetic attempt, but Mum’s face twisted in shock anyway, and it grated on me. “What have those foreigners and the king been telling you? That he’s evil? A monster? It’s all bullshit.”

Maybe not all, but I couldn’t bear the idea that Mum thought me a victim—a weak casualty of circumstance. I’d chosen my fate, and I wouldn’t choose differently, given the chance.

“Okay. Sorry.” Mum opened her hand in invitation. I watched it for a moment before taking it. It shook.

The door opened, admitting the prince. Mum jumped to her feet and bowed, but I remained seated. I wasn’t playing that game here, in private. The prince waved an impatient hand at Mum’s vacated seat and pulled up a chair himself.

“Right. Tell me what’s going on. The short version.”

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