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‘AMELIA?’
Later that day she blinked across at her mother, realised she was probably scowling and tried to school her features into something resembling an expression of calm.
‘Yes?’
‘Something is troubling you.’
Amelia looked beyond her mother, to the window through which there was a view of the street beyond the palace. Crowds had been forming for days now, lining up with flowers and fake crowns and flags, all waiting out in the summer sun to wave and catch a glimpse of the family as they left for the ceremony. By order of the King and Queen, in deference to the heat, guards had regularly been handing out water and ice lollies—but nothing was getting in the way of the festive spirit below.
Amelia wondered, if she were to move close enough, if some of that spirit might not rub off on her.
‘Amelia? Talk to me,’ Anna-Maria implored. ‘You hold so much inside yourself,’ she said, moving to stand beside her daughter. ‘You are like a closed book sometimes. I wish you would open up to me. I wish you would let me help.’
Amelia compressed her lips. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
Amelia closed her eyes, the tangle of emotions in her chest rolling painfully through her. She couldn’t talk about Benedetto. It was too new, too fresh, too confusing. She couldn’t make sense of it herself, so how could she explain anything to her mother?
But there was the other matter that had been plaguing Amelia since her return: her reason for leaving, her mother’s choices, and Amelia’s place in the family. How could she plan her future without understanding more about her past?
‘Mum,’ she said on a soft sigh, moving back to the table, curving her hands around a chair, bracing herself. ‘There’s no easy way to say this.’
Anna-Maria paled. ‘You’re leaving again.’
Amelia shook her head. ‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’
Anna-Maria nodded but her lip trembled slightly.
Frustration, shame, pity, love, worry. So many emotions bubbled through Amelia, she found it impossible to contain them. ‘I need to tell you something.’ And as soon as she said it, she knew she was right. She couldn’t keep running from this. The threat that Daniel might reveal something was still out there, but it was more than that. Amelia needed to be honest with her mother.
Amelia sucked in a deep breath. ‘Please understand, I’m not bringing this up to hurt you.’
Anna-Maria became very still, watchful.
‘I know.’
Anna-Maria’s expression didn’t shift.
‘I know you had an affair.’ She dug her fingernails into her palms. ‘I know he’s not my real father.’
Anna-Maria lifted a hand to her lips. ‘Oh, Amelia.’ She closed her eyes, her face pale. ‘This is why you left?’
‘In part.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘That’s not important.’
‘It is to me.’
‘Because you want to stop other people from finding out?’ Amelia asked, the words hollow. She was angry with her mother but also guilty for betraying this secret to someone so untrustworthy.
‘I found a photo and a letter. In a book in the attic. It was an accident but as soon as I saw it, I knew...’
Anna-Maria’s hand fluttered to her mouth again. ‘I thought I had destroyed everything.’ She shook her head. ‘You shouldn’t have found out that way.’
‘No, damn it, I shouldn’t. I felt as though I’d been shot. How could you keep this from me?’ She stood, frustrated. ‘But it gets worse, Mum.’ And now she’d started, she couldn’t stop. ‘I did something when I found out, something I shouldn’t have done, and I— Oh, God.’ She pressed her hands to her face. ‘This is all such a mess.’
