Page 203 of The Throne Seeker
Silence fell over them as they looked into each other’s eyes.
“Perhaps we just need more time,” she whispered into the quiet hall.
He arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you really believe that time-heals-all bullshit?”
She nearly laughed, realizing how ridiculous it sounded. “No. I suppose not. But that’s what I keep telling myself.”
The way he held her face, the way they stood looking into each other’s eyes, had her hoping that maybe—just maybe—they’d heal.
Tristan cleared his throat, his eyes flickering to his mother’s door. “I should go.”
She nodded, stepping away. “Oh—yes. Yes, of course.”
Tristan passed her so close that a wave of his fresh forest scent wrapped itself around her.
He paused as he placed his hand on the latch, facing her again. “I’ll see you later?”
It was supposed to be casual, but his eyes harbored the worry she’d disappear again.
“See you later,” she said, reassuring him she wasn’t going anywhere.
A ghost of a smile spread across his lips before he opened the door.
She let out the breath she’d been holding, throwing on her hood again as she left the hall to look for her mother.
Because, by Vallor, she had some serious explaining to do.
CHAPTER 74
Rose found her mother hidden away in her room.
As usual, it was immaculate. Each book, every piece of furniture, and even her hair brushes were meticulously arranged in a straight line on her desk. The familiar scent of her potent magnolia perfume lingered in the air, mixed with the taste of rain from the cracked window.
She stood at the edge of her mother’s canopy bed, glaring at her mother, who fell on the pressed sheets, still taking in her transformation.
“Goodness, you look just like him—how did this happen? How did you lift the blood spell? Did someone try to hurt you?” her mother asked all at once.
Rose narrowed her eyes. “No, no one hurt me, butIget to ask the questions right now. You said I look like him—himwho?”
She was terrified of the answer, but she needed to know, even if it turned her world upside down.
No more lies, no more half-truths, no more secrets.
She could recall only a handful of moments when her mother was this apprehensive. This would be another to add to the list.
“Your father, Rose. Yourrealfather.”
Rose didn’t think she’d heard her right. “Myrealfather?”
Her mother didn’t shrink away, holding her gaze as she let her absorb the news.
“What do you mean, real father?” Rose asked again, becoming more assertive. “If Rathe wasn’t my father,” she said, speaking his name for the first time in a year, “then who is?”
Her mother’s lips grew into a sad yet bright smile. “The most wonderful man I’ve ever known. His name was Thren Devereaux… and he was a siren.”
Rose’s jaw slackened. “You mean…”
Her mother nodded slowly, patting the spot beside her on the bed.
