Page 13 of Pretense

“I think I see what you’re getting at.” Essie almost sounded excited, though her hand rubbed up and down his back. “Farrendel and I make three or four appearances that week. It would probably be best if we visit some of the places I would have anyway so it doesn’t seem so unusual. The orphanage or the hospital or things like that. We’ll get good press that will help mitigate the bad when the news breaks.”

“Exactly.”

Three or four appearances. Farrendel’s stomach churned.

He managed to lift his head enough to peek up at Averett and Edmund sitting across the way. To his right, Weylind’s hard face was even more lined and worn.

Averett met Farrendel’s gaze across the way. “When the story is released, you and Essie will need to stick around for a few days. Just so it doesn’t look like you are fleeing the kingdom.”

“And I had to promise a reporter that you would give an exclusive interview.” Edmund shifted, staring down at his hands. “It was the only way I could get him to delay the release of the story, at least for his paper.”

An interview. On top of going out in public. Farrendel rested his head in his hands. Was there any way he could get out of this?

“All right. So we work on public relations in Escarland for about a week and a half, then we head back here until the furor dies down, and we hope that my popularity with the people is enough to outweigh Farrendel’s illegitimate birth in everyone’s minds.” Essie gave a nod, still running her fingers up and down his back in a way that kept him present instead of falling apart. “What about the planned treaty celebrations?”

Averett shrugged. “We’ll make the celebrations more about the treaty itself and less about celebrating you and Farrendel. You’ll actually be able to celebrate your anniversary in peace and quiet here like you wanted all along.”

As Farrendel had wanted. He was pretty sure Essie had been looking forward to all the events.

Yet, she grinned at him, no hint of her disappointment in her voice or expression. “Which anniversary were we planning to celebrate anyway? Our Escarlish wedding or our Tarenhieli one?”

With so many members of both of their families staring at them, Farrendel could not give her the answer he would have said if it was just the two of them. Instead, he simply squeezed her hand. “Both.”

A week and a half of torturous public appearances, then peace and quiet here in Tarenhiel with Essie. If he could only survive, then it would get better.

“The next weeks will not be pleasant.” Averett grimaced. “Aspersions will be cast about your family, and your late father. His honor will be dragged through the mud while all the sordid details of Farrendel’s mother’s life will be splashed across the papers for everyone to read.”

Farrendel’s stomach churned even worse at that. He had yet to gather the courage to read through the files. Soon, that information would be there for all of Escarland to condemn.

Weylind’s jaw worked, his eyes flinty. “There will be much for the papers to report, I am afraid. Though, I doubt your papers will report how she abandoned her child for money.”

“Weylind.” Rheva’s voice had a sharp note to it that Farrendel had rarely heard. Rheva sat straight, giving Weylind a stern look worthy of Machasheni Leyleira. “You forget that I was one of the few who met her that day. Yes, she abandoned Farrendel, and I do not deny that he was in poor shape when she did. But what else was she supposed to do? If she had kept him, he would have grown up in poverty. Instead, by giving him to your dacha, she ensured that he was raised a prince, never lacking for anything. It was a sacrifice of a mother’s love.”

Farrendel caught his breath. He had never heard Rheva talk about his mother this way. Then again, he had never been in a place to wish to hear and process before.

Had his mother loved him? Even a little bit?

Because even though he had never met her and everything was a mix of pain and longing and abandonment, he still loved her. She had been his mother, even if she had been a hole inside of him for his entire life.

“Perhaps.” Weylind crossed his arms. “Though she was eager enough to take the money when Dacha offered it. If she had lived, she likely would have tried to work her way into Farrendel’s life, manipulating him into giving her more.”

“I do not deny that she likely would have manipulated him and called it love.” Rheva’s gaze held firm. “But as we have seen, our own family is not free of that kind of twisted love either.”

Farrendel felt Essie stiffen beside him. Melantha was still a touchy subject. He had forgiven her for what she had done, and they had come a long way in repairing their relationship. But that did not mean that the past pain was easy to forget.

Weylind sighed and tilted his head in a weary acknowledgment.

That same weariness settled over Farrendel. How was he ever going to survive the next two weeks?

Averett made a throat-clearing noise. “We only have a week until the story breaks. I suggest we return to Escarland as soon as possible—today even—and put this plan into motion. If we could schedule an appearance for Farrendel and Essie tomorrow morning, that would be ideal.”

The churning filling his chest returned full force. Farrendel tried to breathe through it this time. Tried to stave off the swirling in his head and the way the blackness crowded the edge of his vision.

But some things could not be willed away.

Stomach heaving, Farrendel lunged to his feet and blindly ran for the door. His fumbling fingers found the latch, then he was stumbling onto the porch surrounding the sitting room. He managed to get around the corner before he sank to the floor, head resting on his knees as he tried not to pass out.

This was too much. Far too much. His throat ached with pressure, his lungs burning as he gasped for breath. His head felt light, as if it would float away from his shoulders.

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