Page 90 of Only Cold Depths
Wendell was right. Nothing he said or did would ever fully heal the wounds my grandmother and mother had inflicted. But I didn’t want those scars to define me either, or worse, keep me from something that might be good.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Wendell straightened up like a soldier snapping to attention. “You are my daughter, and I would very much like the chance to get to know you better. But the decision is yours. I just hope you will consider it.”
I didn’t know what to say. As far as apologies went, his was pretty good, but I was still wary, and I could still hear Nerezza’s voice hissing through my mind.Useless child.
What if I let Wendell into my life, my heart, and he didn’t like what he discovered? What if he turned his back on me the way Nerezza had? What if he thought I was as useless as she had?
A tense, awkward silence dropped over the workshop. Wendell kept staring at me, but the more seconds that ticked by, the more the hope dimmed in his eyes. My own chest twisted in response. I hated hurting him, but I didn’t want to get hurt again either.
“Well, Asterin and the others are probably wondering where I am,” Wendell said. “I will leave you to your work. Perhaps I’ll see you later at the estate?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I gave him a short, sharp nod.
Wendell bowed to me, then left the workshop. The door shut behind him with a softsnick, and the sound ignited an ember buried in the cold depths of my heart that I’d thought was long extinguished—the fragile hope that I still might have a real family someday.
Istayedintheworkshop for several minutes, staring at nothing. Finally, I roused myself out of my turbulent thoughts and started putting things away. All the gemstones I’d grabbed from the shelves, all the tools we’d used, all the doodles and theories we’d scribbled on pieces of plastipaper.
If I’d been in my makeshift workshop on theDream World, I would have left the mess exactly where it was, but Asterin would probably get twitchy if everything wasn’t stored in its proper place. Besides, the simple motions soothed me. By the time I finished, I felt a smidge better, or at least well enough to put on a calm face, grab the Techwave cannon, and leave the workshop.
The House Collier guards were still stationed on the street, and they summoned a transport and escorted me back to the estate. I went to my suite and set the Techwave cannon on a table. I knew Kyrion could sense that I had returned to the estate through the bond, the same way I could sense that he was here, but I still messaged him on my tablet. I was waiting for a reply when a knock sounded on the open door, and a servant stuck her head inside the sitting room.
“Lady Beatrice has arranged for tea on the south terrace. She asked if you would join her, Lady Vesper.”
The last thing I wanted to do was see Beatrice, but I had to face my grandmother sooner or later, and I might as well get it over with.
I followed the servant through the corridors, across a bridge, and out onto the south terrace where I’d had lunch with Asterin and Kyrion two days ago. Once again, an impressive spread of food had been laid out, including scones, tiny cakes, and cucumber sandwiches.
Beatrice was sipping her tea at a small, round table. A faint floral note of raspberries curled through the air, along with the sharp tang of the lemon slice she’d squeezed into the hot brew. She gestured at the empty seat across the table, as though I was just another Regal lady joining her for a pleasant snack.
I yanked out the chair, sat down, and regarded her with a cold expression. Beatrice arched a silvery eyebrow at my rudeness, but she kept right on sipping her tea.
A charged, hostile silence filled the air. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the cushioned seat. Beatrice had summoned me here, so she could explain herself.
Finally, after about three minutes of stony silence, she set down her empty cup.
“I see you are just as stubborn as Zane and Wendell are,” she said.
“Maybe it’s a family trait.” I shrugged. “Or maybe not. I didn’t grow up being part of House Zimmer, so who knows? Nature versus nurture is always a fascinating debate among galactic scholars.”
Beatrice’s mouth pinched into a flat line. Then she sighed, her ramrod-straight posture cracked, and she slumped back in her chair.
“I am sorry about what I did, Vesper. It was never my intention to hurt you. Only to protect my House and family from Nerezza.” She sighed again, the sound longer, deeper, and full of aching regret. “And I am especially sorry about how Nerezza treated you. I thought having a child might change her for the better. At least a little bit. For your sake.”
“Well, it didn’t,” I replied in an icy voice. “I was just another tool for Nerezza to use. And when she found out she couldn’t use me the way she wanted, she threw me away like a piece of trash and never gave me a second thought. Just like you did.”
Beatrice flinched as though I had slapped her. “I deserve every ounce of your anger, scorn, and derision. I am painfully aware of my own shortcomings.”
She straightened up and lifted her chin, once again morphing into an elegant, unflappable Regal lady and the head of a powerful House. “But I am prepared to remedy that.”
She picked up a black folder I hadn’t noticed before, set it on the tabletop, and pushed it over to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Your trust fund. I started it the day you were born, just as I did Zane’s. This money is yours, independent of House Zimmer, just as Zane’s trust fund is his to do with as he pleases.” Her lips puckered. “Although your brother tends to spend his credits on inane things like new Arrow uniforms and ridiculously expensive tailcoats that get ruined within minutes of him donning the garments. I hope you will be a bit smarter than that.”
Curiosity got the better of me, and I dragged the folder closer, opened it, and scanned the document inside. The staggering number of credits almost made my eyes pop out of my head, but suspicion surged through me.
