Page 138 of Ashborne Forged

That poor child. The poor wife! No wonder he’d looked at me with such unease when I arrived. He probably feared I’d manipulate him as well.

But, that was the way my mother liked them—cowering, scared of their own shadows, too paranoid to accept any offer of help.

Her methods hadn’t changed, and neither had their effectiveness.

I shook my head. “I’ll be leaving and not returning. But in a few weeks I’ll return to Vosgaarde City. If you should ever decide you want a different life, come to the Castle and ask for Voski. I’m known to the queen. Her people will find me.”

Her brows rose at the sound of the name I’d adopted when I left this place. She raised her hands to her mouth, staring at me over them, eyes welling with tears. “Oh… Vane…”

I shook my head, unable to allow emotion to touch me.

She tilted her head, then put one of those hands to my cheek. “What strength,” she whispered. “To keep your heart after everything you endured in this house.”

“That was entirely your doing,” I muttered, swallowing and glancing over my shoulder to break her touch because it made my skin blister. We both knew the risks if she was seen to be sympathetic to me.

She dropped her hand, and her chin. Both of us sighed.

“Just… remember what I said. Find me. I meant it,” I muttered.

Then, because it would be the last chance, I leaned in and brushed the swiftest of kisses to her cheek—a son’s farewell to his adopted mother—then darted out of the pantry, while she sank to her knees on the cold stones, sobbing.

I wasn’t sure if the tears were real, or not.

45. Not Today

SOUNDTRACK: Scared to Die by Our Last Night

~ VOSKI ~

I couldn’t let my mother scheme and control any further. It was time for her to meet the son who faltered at the wire, whose panic sat barely under the surface.

I spent the day packing, stealing supplies and rations in small parts—ensuring I was seen by at least two servants—secreting them in my bags.

I did ensure no one saw me walking a small food package out to the trees. If I couldn’t succeed in manipulating my mother into action, I wouldn’t risk it. Grace was being married in the castle, so I knew where to find her and when. If Mother didn’t take action today, I would travel alone and trust I’d enticed her to follow.

I didn’t make an appearance for dinner for the first time since I arrived, because I knew it would put her off-balance. I waited until she’d retreated to her parlor with her wine, then walked in, throwing the door back so hard it hit the wall, and snapping at the servants to leave us.

Mother didn’t startle, though she did turn to look at me from her chair before the fire.

When Bernard looked back and forth between us, I snarled at him. “If she needs another drink, I will serve it to her. Go.”

She tipped her chin once at the old butler, then took another sip of her wine while I waited for Bernard and the footman to shuffle outside, throwing the door closed so hard, it slammed behind them.

Mother tsked as I started across the parlor toward her. “Goodness, someone is—”

I interrupted her, but gave no indication of the anger or impatience I’d used with the men. Let her see the pageantry of it, strolling toward the side-board to pour myself a stiff drink while I spoke. Making sure my fingers trembled slightly I and gripped the glass too tightly, to cover it.

“Either you give me all information you have regarding the wedding, and outline your plans in detail—leave nothing out—or I leave immediately and take care of this myself.”

She sighed like I was irritating. “You are in no position to—”

“You’re wrong,” I said flatly, taking a sip of the amber spirits before rolling it around in my glass and continuing. “I have several options entirely independent of you, but I prefer to use your connections and do this the way that allows us the greatest freedom in the aftermath. If you won’t help, if you won’t even attempt to protect my line, then I will do so myself, by less measured means.”

She stared at me, expressionless for a long, silent moment. A favorite tactic of hers to unnerve people who stepped above their station and spoke to her as an equal. But she’d used it against me since I was a child. I was immune. I continued to sip at my drink, holding her gaze over the edge of my glass, and waiting for her to respond.

Eventually, her expression flattened and she turned away to stare into the fire as she spoke, running one fingertip around the edge of her wineglass. “The man whose betrothed you want for yourself is a friend of the king. If I were to simply overrule him, I risk losing the king’s good favor. This must be handled with precision. If you would only wait, we will both get what we want. But you will have to trust me.”

“I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw this house from its foundations,” I said flatly.