Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
I nod my farewell to Dirk and move toward Elizabeth’s group, intending to find a way to separate her from the crowd, but instead I nearly run over my mother, who places herself directly in front of me. Relatively puffy dresses are in style with the women of the Shrouded Kingdom, but my mother’s dress pushes the boundaries with balls of fabric so large at her shoulders they nearly tower over her head. The rest of the dress hugs her small but severe frame. She was always accounted as one of the most beautiful women in all of the Shrouded Kingdoms, but I can only see the venom when I look at her.
“Mother,” I say, trying to step past her.
She looks up at me with pursed lips. “You need to come with me.”
I look once more toward Elizabeth. She’s watching me, but turns away when I notice her. I motion for my mother to lead the way. She guides me out of the main ballroom to one of the side chambers reserved for guests, closing the door behind us once we’re inside.
“I’ve heard whispers,” she says, pacing around the room without taking her bulging eyes from me.
“You can afford a psychiatrist. Why are you talking to me about this,” I say dryly.
She advances on me, pressing a well-manicured finger up to my throat like a dagger. “Don’t fuck with me,” she hisses. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You and Elizabeth. I know you’ve been seeing her when you shouldn’t.”
I raise an eyebrow. That is a surprise. I was exceedingly careful, or so I thought, but I guess my mother has had a long time to get her claws dug into this palace and put eyes where I least expect them.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” she demands, finger still poised at my throat.
I take her hand, pushing it away from me. “You want me to apologize? Make excuses? Fuck that. I was with her. Yes. But if you want to know what happened between us, I guess you’ll need to work on your little network of spies, because you won’t hear it from me.”
“Listen to me you little shit,” she says through twitching lips. “You may not care about the future of this kingdom, but I’ve worked too hard to see it pissed away by you. Why don’t you do what you do best? Step aside and let the people who care handle it.”
I clench my fists, skin heating. “Yeah. You care about the kingdom. So much you made sure father was out of the way so you could--”
She brings her arm up as quick as a snake to slap me, but I catch her wrist.
We both stare eye to eye for several seconds her face contorting from the effort of struggling against me, but I don’t let her go until she stops fighting. She glares at me, clutching her wrist. “You could have been so much more than you are, Roark,” she says, expression softening until there’s genuine sorrow in her face. “You were always the strongest and most clever in the room. When you spoke, people listened. All your father's advisors gushed and gushed about what a natural leader you were. We were so proud. But I know your dirty little secret. You think the little violent accidents that started to add up weren’t noticed? That you just got lucky and no one noticed?
“No,” she says. “We followed behind you, cleaning up until you got your shit straight. But you never did. You never did anything of meaning. You pissed away potential marriages, alliances, and everything else. Princess Tyrene’s father contacted me yesterday. He says he is strongly considering canceling the offer of marriage and presenting her to the Acretians.”
I shake my head. Hearing her version of the way things played out is almost laughable, but I’m not here to antagonize her. “Tell me something,” I say quietly. “Are you planning to try to put Titus on the throne instead of me?”
She doesn’t answer for a long time. “You may be a disappointment, but you’re still my son, so I’ll tell you this much. Events are already in motion, and there will come a point where you’ll either have to break yourself against the waves or let them take you where they will. Don’t fight it, Roark. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
With that, she leaves, heading back to the ballroom.
What a pleasant woman. My brother is a sociopath and my own mother just implied I’d be killed if I don’t step out of the way when Titus makes his move for the throne. It’s almost funny, though. Before, I was neutral at best on whether I wanted to make my claim for the throne, but I thought I would get around to it eventually if only to stop Titus from poisoning it. Now though? My mother just gave me a reason to want it, and a reason to watch the two of them fail. She thinks a storm is coming, and she’s right, but it’s not going to look like she expects.