Page 78 of Heir of Illusion

It was my fault she died, and that can never be undone.

“That was the queen’s name, wasn’t it?” Thorne presses, his voice painfully soft. “You two were close?”

My chin quivers as tears threaten to overflow. “She was like a mother to me.”

“What happened?”

“I let her down,” I whisper.

The words create another crack in that mental prison where I store my shame. A thousand memories leak from the fissure, each one ripping me apart from the inside out. The warmth of her voice. The smell of her perfume. The little sound she’d make in the back of her throat when she was focusing deeply on something. The gentle scratching of her fingernails against my scalp, soothing me after a nightmare.

Tears escape my eyes, freely falling down my cheeks as Thorne tries in vain to catch them all with his handkerchief.

If I could rip these memories from my mind and give them to Della, I would. She deserves them more than me. Let her treasure them. Let her find joy in remembrance rather than the shame I feel.

I don’t know how long I sit there crying, but Thorne never leaves. He stays by my side, watching the tide until my tears finally abate. At some point, he put the handkerchief in my hand, allowing me to soak it in my grief.

“I was close to my mother,” he say, barely above a whisper.

I turn my head to observe him, my mind catching on a single word. “Was?”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly.

“She died. It was my fault,” he admits.

“I’m sorry,” I say honestly. It’s a pain I know all too well, and I wouldn’t wish that kind of guilt on my worst enemy. “What happened?”

“My father was very…” He trails off, running his fingers through his dark waves as he searches for the right words. “He was a difficult man. Paranoid. He kept my mother and me isolated from the rest of the world. He said it was to protect us, but I knew it was more about control.”

Goosebumps travel over my arms as he speaks. Listening to him is like looking in a mirror and expecting to see my own reflection staring back at me, but instead, I find his. I already know where this story is heading, but I sit quietly and listen anyway.

“My father hired thisenchanterto watch us.” He spits the word, his fists clenching at his sides. “He was powerful, even more than your friend Darrow. My father ordered him to craft a tonic for my mother that would make her believe she was happy, that she was content to be a captive.”

A wave of horror washes over me. What Baylor has done to me is vile, but I can’t imagine being stripped of my own inner emotions. I know what it is to be controlled, but at least I’ve always been safe inside my mind. My thoughts are my own, even if my actions are not. My heart breaks for this woman and the suffering she endured.

The suffering her son was forced to witness.

“Seeing her with that complacent smile on her face and her pupils blown wide was terrible, but what happened when it would wear off was even worse.” He winces. “You see, the effects of the tonic didn’t last forever. It needed to be readministered whenever it wore off, and over time her body developed a resistance to it. What started as a monthly dose soon became weekly. And when that didn’t work anymore, it was daily.”

I remember Darrow warning of something similar when I asked him about binding spells. My fingers trail over the rubies at my throat as I imagine the fate that might have been mine if Baylor hadn’t used the collar to control me. What other methods would he have employed?

“We’d know it was wearing off because she’d fly into a rage,” Thorne continues, his body tense with years’ worth of pain. “Or worse, slip into a sadness that nothing could pull her out of. It was as if that tonic stole her ability to regulate her emotions. It ate up all of her joy, and when it was gone, she was left with nothing but anger and sorrow. And then my father’s guards would hold her down and pry open her mouth, forcing her to choke down that fucking poison again.” He speaks the words through clenched teeth. “And a few minutes later, she’d be smiling as if she hadn’t just been screaming and clawing for her life.”

“I’m sorry, Thorne,” I tell him honestly. “No one should experience what she went through. And those who were responsible deserve death.”

His head jerks in a semblance of a nod before he clears his throat and continues, still staring at the sea.

“The guards used to clip my wings every night, so that I couldn’t fly away. Not that I knew how. My mother and I were never allowed in the sky. But since we would always heal quickly, they didn’t take any chances. One night, I wasn’t cooperating. I was angry and lashing out at any of them who came close to me. I knew it was useless, but I couldn’t stomach the thought of letting them slice into me again. I just couldn’t do it.”

His voice turns pleading, as if he’s begging me to understand. And I do. Without thinking, I reach out for his gloved hand, taking it in mine. He goes still, but he doesn’t rip it out of my grasp.

“They were holding me down and shredding my back with a whip. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, but still, I refused to summon my wings for them.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “That’s when they brought my mother in.”

Ice slithers over my skin, as I realize what he’s about to tell me.

“One of them was pointing a knife at her heart.” His fists clench into tight balls. “I knew they wouldn’t kill her, since doing that would guarantee their own death by my father’s hands. But I had no idea how far they were willing to go, so I gave in. I stopped fighting them and summoned my wings…” He trails off, swallowing before he continues. “But what none of us knew was that my mother’s tonic was wearing off. They had just begun to cut one of my wings when she started screaming like mad for them to let me go. They did what she said, but the guard continued to hold her. I’ll never forget the look on her face.”

His voice breaks off as he clears the emotion from his throat.

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