Page 100 of The Queens and the Kings
His sharp gaze cut to hers, lined with fury. “Is it?” he snapped. “Is it understandable? I finally met my birth mother and I left her crying in that room. The things I wanted to say?—”
He cut himself short.
“Yes,” she said with stoic calm. “Yes, thatisunderstandable, Henrik. Both of you must have been overwhelmed and frightened. Meeting your mother after so many years was never going to be easy.”
He unwound. He dropped her gaze, fingers tightening into a fist at his side. “I . . . I don’t know how I feel.”
“That’s fair.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Also fair.”
Henrik spun to face the exit, but hesitated. His gaze darted to the thick-leafed canopy overhead. A stark, naked question tipped out of his lips.
“Why didn’t she fight harder?”
By sheer force of will, Britt maintained her equilibrium. She didn’t allow the agony of such a question to show on her face.
“Maybe she fought as hard as she could.”
“Not enough.”
“Alma said that Selma is the only woman that has been banished from Stenberg in the last thirty years. There’s a storyabout her being sent away for embarrassing herself and her family. When you’re ready for it, I’d wager Selma would be willing to share.”
He seemed to mull that over, like a soldat strategizing his next battle. Perhaps that’s how this felt. Wasn’t everything a fight to the soldats? An experience against misery, while leaning into tolerance of near abuse? Minutes passed. The bottled, roiling emotions calmed, like a grim storm easing over the sea.
Henrik stood and offered her his hand, palm up. “It feels better when we’re holding hands.”
The vulnerable statement shattered her already quivering heart. She braided her fingers through his. “Yes,” she whispered. “It does.”
“Will the Ladylord hang this over my head?”
“What do you mean?”
“She did something for me, so I must?—”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’d be a fool to assume otherwise,” he countered, leading them out of the idyllic garden that, if she had her way, she’d never leave. His return to strategy and tactics was a welcome escape from the burn of sitting in that pain with him.
Intentional, certainly.
Unable to call her the Ladylord, Britt said, “Alma admitted that she isn’t sure what she thinks of you. She mentioned Einar, and understood his motivations, but not yours. She’s concerned you’re not committed to defying His Glory.”
Henrik snorted. “Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“I don’t want her to understand me.”
Britt’s jaw dropped. “You’ve acted that way on purpose?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Just in case.”
