Page 107 of Drawn in Blood
Ember scoffed. “What family? In case you haven’t noticed, my family is either dead or offering me up as lamb for slaughter. I don’t have a family anymore—it’s just me and Theo.”
“Your family is so much more than who you were born to,” Aesira whispered, “so much more than blood.”
The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
“I’m just a girl,” Ember whispered. “I can’t change anything.”
“You were not meant to change anything. You were meant to make history,” Aesira breathed. “The history of women is in everything we touch.”
Chapter 35
A Way Out
Ember sat on the edge of her bed the next morning, tapping her fingers on her mattress as she watched the sun climb higher over the mountain outside her window. She chewed on the edge of her lip, mulling over what she had to do next. She had lost her mind the night before, and she wasn’t sure what was in store for her when she finally decided to leave her room. She took a shaky breath as she pushed herself off her bed and headed downstairs to confront her mum.
She had to fake it, had to pretend like she was sorry for the way she acted and that she was ready to fall in line with whatever her duties were to be. The thought turned her stomach, but she kept reminding herself that she was not doing this for herself. She was doing this forthem—for Maeve and Theo, for Killian and Fen, even for Rowan. She was doing this for her family—her true family.
She steadied herself in front of her mother’s office door, going over the apology she had practiced in front of her mirror all night. Just as she was about to open the door, it swung open on its own, her mother standing by the fireplace holding a cup of tea.
“Good morning, love.” Aoife smiled as she motioned for Ember to enter the room. It looked like nothing had happened, like she had never even been there. Everything was back in its place—every picture hanging on the wall, every book back on the shelf, even the lamp she had shattered was fixed, sitting peacefully back on the desk. Ember felt heat creep up her neck, scolding herself for feeling embarrassed.
“You know,” Aoife continued, as she poured Ember a cup of tea, “I thought maybe someone broke in last night. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened, would you?” Her eyes were serious, but a smile played at the corner of her mouth.
It almost made Ember feel bad.
Almost.
Ember sucked on her teeth, putting on her most apologetic face. “I’m sorry, Mum,” she said. “I’ve had a hard time adjusting, and I just sort of… lost it.”
Aoife nodded as she sat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. “Would it have anything to do with what we talked about the other night?”
Ember nodded, not needing to lie about that.
“You don’t have to hide your feelings from me,” Aoife cooed. “You can talk to me about anything.” She held Ember’s hand softly, and the way her fingers felt on her skin made her stomach turn.
“I know, Mum.” Ember forced a smile. “I’m sorry about how I acted. And for your… office.”
Aoife laughed as Ember grimaced. “So, tell me, love,” her mum said, “have you had a chance to think about what we talked about yet?”
Ember chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Not much yet.”
“Well, I have a proposition for you,” Aoife replied, turning her body toward Ember. “If you make the decision to do thiswillingly, on your own accord with no coercion, your granda’ has agreed to train you after his treatments are over.”
“Train me?” Ember furrowed her brow.
“Aye.” Aoife nodded. “If you agree to be your granda’s donor for as long as he needs, after you are back to full power, he will train you to take over the throne.”
Ember swallowed as she nodded. Rowan had told her to fake it, go along with whatever they said, but Ember was finding that to be increasingly more difficult with each breath.
“Is it something I can think about?” Ember asked, trying not to squirm. She needed to buy more time.
“Of course, love,” Aoife cooed. “I will give you till the end of the week to decide.”
“Is it something I can think about?” She didn’t know why she needed to think about it. She should be ecstatic. She should be jumping up and down with excitement at the thought of having a real family again, a permanent family. It was all she had wanted since she was six years old.
“Of course, Mo Chroí.” Otto smiled as he squeezed his wife’s hand. “Take all the time you need.”
The memory of her conversation with Eira and Otto weighed her down. All the time in the world—that’s what they were willing to give her when she asked for it. They didn’t hesitate or second guess, they didn’t give her any ultimatums. They loved her, truly loved her enough to leave the decision up to her.
