Page 102 of The King's Queen

“Rowan, what is your father?” When I only glare at her in confusion, she expands the thought further. “What color is his blood, love?”

“He’s cursed.” Obviously, I get my golden blood from her. My mother smiles in a rather grating way. I can taste the condescension from here.

“And what is Vera? Remind me again.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

The realization must be evident across my face because Mother begins to laugh.

“This isn’t funny, Mother. I thought I’d…”

“What? Kissed your sister?” She continues to laugh until it turns into a dry cough, then settles herself into a rickety chair in the corner. Her breaths come out in short puffs, but her eyes are shining against her red cheeks. “You’ve got this wonderful brain, son. I need you to use it.”

My muscles groan in protest as I lower myself into the chair beside her. “I’m so glad I can be of amusement to you. But if Vera isn’t Ophelus’ daughter, then who is her father? Does the king know that the queen had an affair?”

My mother’s face suddenly turns solemn. The air shifts into cool tones as if matching her mood. Something in the room feels… tense and unwelcoming. As if the walls remember.

“The queen was barren.” As if this shock is not enough, Emilie does not wait for another beat before dropping her next bomb. “That is why she tried to kill you.”

There is silence is the compound. Even Derrín refuses to fidget or breath. It is as if the very earth beneath my boots refuses to even shift lest it disturb the fragile statement that hangs in the air.

Emilie… Mother suddenly looks so old, so weary. However, no weakness can be traced in her stance, her aura. She is still as strong as the woman who took me and ran from the only love she’d known over ten years ago.

Yet another revelation hangs heavy over my head. A sharpened blade waiting to drop.

“Then Vera was…”

“Kidnapped, most likely as an infant. Yes.”

A thousand thoughts swirl in my head. Who are her parents? Was she aware of her past, is that why she wanted to run away? Is that why Ophelus could sell her off so easily?

Then the worst one: I left her there every day with her kidnappers. I left her there last night, screaming on a balcony in the arms of someone who coveted her. Who had forced his tongue down her throat despite her obvious disgust. Who doesn’t give a shit about her.

All the horrid tales I heard of Irene and Vera’s abuse at her hand. All those scars crisscrossing across the back of her legs, the way she freezes at the darkness or the first sign of snow. Her aversion to blood…

“Rowan.” My mother grips my arm suddenly. “Do not blame yourself. This is not on you. All of it is Irene’s fault.”

I never knew I could hate someone I never met until now. My fists clench until my nails bite blood from the flesh. Gold and silver swirl together. My mother and my father. Even their blood is discernible within my veins, and as much as I try to avoid it, I know he is just as much of me as she is. My own self-loathing grows.

“No, it’s his,” I growl, my lips curling in a snarl. “He did this to you, to us.”To her, I add silently.

Emilie shakes her head sadly. As if there is so much behind her eyes she can’t bear to hold it all in unto herself.

“I’m not here to place the guilty verdict for whatever judgement you have going through that head of yours right now. Just give me a moment to explain, please,” She begs. I think back to the last time someone begged me for something. Verosa, begging me to stay. Then I had ran and hid like a coward. I will not make the same mistake twice.

I sit on the chair beside her and clench my jaw. Seeing the resignation in my eyes, Emilie sighs. Her shoulders droop and cave in as she folds her hands. And when she opens her mouth, I finally listen.

Chapter42

Emilie

Ayoung Emilie squinted as she tried to tie two green ribbons into her hair without stretching the swell of her pregnancy belly. The motion caused a sharp pain to stretch through the lower portion of her spine. The emerald satin slipped through her fingers to the floor, and she didn’t need to try to know she couldn’t bend over.

She glared down at her offending stomach.

“You’d better inherit your father’s charm, or you’re going to get into so much trouble someday.” She poked at the swell, smiling at the returning kick. Her son was already causing trouble before he was even born. The thought brought a smile to her lips. She loved him so much already.

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