Page 66 of The Dragon's Captured Heart
I laughed in response to the side-eye thrown in my direction.
“If you’re not ready to talk about it yet, that’s fine,” she said.
“I honestly don’t know where tostart.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me where Madison is?” she said gently.
“At the palace,” I said.
“Well, that’s purposefully vague.”
Being called out by one's own mother was not a comfortable experience. I shifted in my seat, reaching for a sandwich to try to avoid it.
She was faster, pulling the plate away.
I sighed. “She’s at the palace. In her quarters, probably.”
“Her quarters? I thought you two were living together.”
“We were,” I said. “Then we had an argument. Now, we’re not. Can I have a sandwich?”
The plate didn’t move closer. “An argument overwhat?”
“Me. Her. Us.” I hesitated a long time. “Noa.”
“Oh, my son.” She pushed the plate over to me, but I wasn’t hungry all of a sudden.
“I screwed up, didn’t I?” I asked without looking up, not wanting to see the disappointment I was sure was written all over her face.
“Did you?” She turned the question around on me gently, but the words hit far above their weight class, pressing me down into the chair.
“I think so,” I whispered. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’scomplicated!”
To my surprise, she laughed. “Of course it’s complicated, Callum. It’s life. Nothing about it is ever simple. It can be easy, but it’s never simple. There are always consequences. It’s all about mitigating them.”
I picked up a sandwich, chewing on her words and the food simultaneously.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad,” I said. “I kicked her out. Told her to leave.”
Eyebrows rose. “Youtoldherto get out?”
“You expected otherwise?” I said through a mouthful of turkey and salami. “Theyaremy quarters, mother.”
She snorted. “Don’t be disrespectful, I know that.”
“Then don’t act like I’m the bad guy for kicking her out.”
“I’m not the one who said you were the bad guy,” she pointed out gently. “Only you’ve said that.”
I leaned back, food momentarily forgotten.
“Do you feel guilty about telling her to leave?”
She was pushing, like any mother, but doing it gently.
“No,” I said at last. “I don’t. I feel guilty that it got to that point. It shouldn’t have. I could have done a better job. So could she, I suppose, but that’s not what we’re talking about.”
