Page 36 of Edge of the Wild

“He wasn’t going to hurt you,” Amelia said, as her mother turned slowly back to face her. “And he doesn’t deserve censure, not for any of this. He didn’t force me; didn’t seduce me. Be angry with me, Mother, and leave him alone.”

Katherine stared at her…and then turned away from her. Took a few unsteady steps and then all but collapsed down onto the tufted bench in front of Amelia’s dressing table. To Amelia’s shock, her expression crumpled, and she bent forward at the waist, and put her face in her hands. Sunlight glinted off the diamonds in her ring – her wedding ring. Her shoulders shook, and her breath rasped between her fingers.

Amelia had seen her like this only once before – the day the runner brought the news of Father’s and John’s deaths on the battlefield. In the weeks after, if she’d grieved, she’d grieved in private.

But Amelia knew, looking at her own sometimes-stern countenance in the mirror, what it looked like to lock things away inside you; to let them prick, and poke, and bruise you up behind the ribs until they finally forced their way painfully out. She’d known Katherine was holding too much in; could feel her own thorny insides lancing at her now.

She felt guilty – but she wouldn’t choose to take back all that she’d just said. So she sat, silent, a lump forming in her throat.

Katherine lifted her head, finally, and wiped at her wet cheeks. Sniffed. Her face was no longer marble: was blotched red, and mobile with usually-checked emotion.

“Mother,” Amelia began, hesitant.

Katherine shook her head. Voice tear-choked, she said, “I know that I’m a villain. Your father and brother die, and I immediately send your sister off to be ravished by barbarians, and I start demanding that you marry that worthless fop L’Espoir.” She shuddered, and took a deep, tremulous breath, shoulders sagging afterward.

“Mother–”

But Katherine wasn’t done. Once those close-kept emotions slipped between your rib bones, they just kept slipping. “It’s true, you know: that I didn’t love your father at first. It was all arranged – I didn’t meet him until the day before the wedding. It helped that he was handsome, yes, that red hair – your sister’s hair.” Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and she dashed at them with the backs of shaking hands.

Amelia swallowed with difficulty. “John and Oliver, too,” she said, quietly. Her own hair was dark, rather than the gem-bright auburn of her siblings and cousin.

Katherine nodded, and said, “I was terrified. I had not been courted, had not fallen in love – not with him. There was a boy…but that didn’t matter. I did my duty.” She bit her lip. “And I did grow to love him. He was gentle, and generous, and he laughed all the time. He was easy to love.”

Her watery gaze lifted and locked with Amelia’s. “You are stronger than me – you have never hesitated to say and do exactly what you need to. Your father wasvery proudof you. I want you to know that.”

Amelia blinked against the sudden stinging in her eyes.

Katherine sniffed, and regained some of her composure. “Like it or not, we are highborn. If I thought it was possible – if times were different – I would send you off to marry your guardsman with good luck wishes. You are a brave girl, Lia, and I know you would be as happy in a crofter’s cottage as in this mansion.

“But there is bravery in sacrifice, too. In preserving the good family name. When the Sels come, you cannot protect this house, this duchy, without an army behind you. You cannot lead the defense of Drakewell from a cottage.”

Amelia glanced away, toward the window, its diamond panes swimming as her eyes filled. “I know,” she whispered, and she did. Like it or not, rebel against the tradition or not, she could not forge alliances with strong, helpful forces as the disinherited wife of a commoner. Only Lady Amelia, Marchioness of Drakewell could defend her homeland.

Amelia Brown, wife of Malcolm, could not.

Katherine sighed. “I can’tbelieveI’m suggesting this…but the peerage turns a blind eye to adultery. If you marry smartly, and secure an army, no one will notice if your true affections lie elsewhere.”

Amelia could taste the bitterness of her smile. She wiped her eyes. “That’s what Malcolm says.”

“Well. Then. He’s only impertinent, and not an idiot.”

Amelia turned back to her, and they regarded one another, both their faces wet.

Amelia laughed first, and then Katherine let out a rusty chuckle.

“Gods,” Amelia breathed, cutting herself off before a laugh could become a sob. “Must I marry at all? Isn’t Tessa supposed to be bringing us the Great Northern Phalanx?”

Katherine stood and pulled a crumpled bit of parchment from her belt. “That was actually why I came to talk to you – though, in hindsight, I should have waited until you came down to breakfast.” She shot her a pointed look, and Amelia pulled the sheet tighter around her breasts, feeling properly chastened for the first time.

“According to Tessa’s latest letter,” Katherine said, unfolding the parchment, “the king was to set out for the Midwinter Festival this morning – with Oliver now installed officially as consort, apparently.” She shook her head. “I could box his ears, the bloody, contrary fool. A king.A king. Talk of impertinent – I send him to work out a marriage contract andhetumbles the king? Thegallof him.”

“Mother, I think this morning has firmly established that we can’t help who we fall in love with,” Amelia said, dryly.

Katherine let out a slow breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gods above, I shall have toexplainthis to people. Lady Matilda is going to laugh in my face.”

“What of Tessa herself?”

“Staying behind in Aeretoll. This festival trip could take weeks, she says, and the king’s heir is going to accompany. Which leaves Tessa moldering in a cold castle awaiting his return – if he returns! Have you heard the stories? Wild Northmen eating raw meat and wrestling naked in the snow. Bashing each other over the head. The king and prince might both be killed at this thing, and then what good will any of it have been?”

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