I turned away from the door as Tritetia closed it, determined to make my way out of the main palace before anyone noticed. After our encounter with Seymour, Tritetia seemed shaken up and unwell, so I used the excuse of escorting her to a guest room as a way to finally leave the ball. For her part, she didn’t seem to be faking it, and she barely managed to say thanks as I dropped her off.
It didn’t take me long to find my way back outside, and I began my silent walk across the garden back to Isadora’s palace for the last time. Tomorrow morning, I would be escorted to my own palace, and I would no longer be as restricted. Since I was no longer a secret, I would be allowed to invite people into my palace, and I would be free to leave and explore the capital with my own guards for protection.
“As if,” I muttered, glancing up at the cloudy night sky. No human could protect me better than I could protect myself, but I wouldn’t have much of a choice. Caspian had made me promise not to try and fight as a condition for helping me with my changes, and I had already agreed. It meant I would have to continue playing the part of a human teenager, even if the idea of listening to the knights annoyed me.
I paused in my walk, the moon managing to peak out from the sparse clouds passing overhead. The garden was quiet, the only sounds being the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of music still drifting from the ballroom. The garden path stretched ahead of me, the lanterns casting a soft golden glow on the polished stone. A few petals stirred as I walked again, brushing past the carefully trimmed hedges and flowering vines that framed the walkway. Every step brought me closer to the decision I didn’t want to make, the weight of it heavier than the ornate jacket still clinging to my shoulders.
The conversation I needed to have was simple; nothing more than a few words and a request that would have seemed obvious. But I’d been putting it off for days, wanting to wait until I could confirm with Tritetia that it wouldn’t change anything. Even if I hadn’t been expecting to see her tonight, she had still confirmed that the decision I had made was the right one. Even if it made my heart ache.
The rest of the walk passed in a blur, and it didn’t take long for me to see the dark silhouette of Isadora’s palace. I could only hear the faintest noise from inside, which meant most of the servants were either asleep or had snuck off to the main palace to see the ball. But it didn’t take me long to recognize the two shapes in the doorway, both standing as if they had been expecting me all night.
Seeing Yssac stand behind my mother, a tired grin on his face, was still a sight I couldn’t get used to. Despite being equals, this Yssac, a Yssac freed of his father’s influence, treated my mother with respect and deference. He never overstepped her decisions, and regularly came to her for advice when Caspian gave him a task. A part of me found it karmic, but another part worried. While I preferred this version of him over who he had been, he couldn’t be Caspian’s aide forever. Eventually, he would be the new Marquess of Blackwood and unless he found his own spine…
He’d just be someone else’s puppet.
“Took you long enough,” Yssac’s voice pulled me from my thoughts and I frowned as I met his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d stay so long.”
“Isa made me promise to stay for a few hours,” I mumbled, accepting my mother’s hold as she pulled me inside. “You know I don’t feel cold.”
“And I’ve told you before, just because you don’t feel it doesn’t mean you can’t freeze,” my mother insisted, fussing over me as Yssac took my jacket. I managed a slight smile as I watched her, but the guilt pressed in behind my ribs, tightening every time she looked at me with that soft-eyed affection. I eventually looked off into a distant corner, frowning as I waited for her to finish.
Yssac, thankfully, seemed to pick up on my mood and offered a quiet nod before stepping back, his hands slipping into his coat pockets with an ease that almost passed for nonchalance.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Well since you’re in good hands, I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” he said instead, his voice lower, more careful. “Have a good night, you two.”
I gave a short nod in return, watching as he disappeared down the hallway, the soft tread of his boots muffled against the rug that lined the corridor. The silence he left behind felt louder than it should have, and for a moment, I fidgeted, not sure what to say as my mother finally finished her fussing, none the wiser about my mood.
“Now,” she started, turning away from me to pick up the lantern she had brought to the door. “You should be packing for tomorrow instead of reading.”
“Ma.”
“Although if I know you, you’ll read anyway and it’ll take–”
“Mom.” The change in my voice finally made my mother pause, but I still couldn’t meet her gaze as she turned to look at me. “I… need to tell you something.”
“What is it, Cy?” My mother didn’t hesitate as she came back to my side, her voice immediately soft, concerned in the way only a mother’s voice could be. She tilted her head slightly, trying to catch my eyes as she reached up to brush a few stray hairs from my forehead.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly too tight, the words catching somewhere just behind my teeth. I had played the conversation out in my head a dozen times; practiced exactly how I wanted to voice my thoughts so it didn’t sound like I hated her, that I was trying to run away again. But now that I was standing here, watching her look at me like I’d disappear if she looked away, I hated it.
“It’s just…” I exhaled slowly, trying to force the words that didn’t want to come. “I… think you should stay here. In Isadora’s palace.”
Her brows furrowed just slightly, not in confusion, but in that quiet, measured way she always wore. She simply folded her arms, minding the lantern as her stance shifting from worry to calm. I knew she was waiting for me to explain further, but I hesitated, my chest twisting as I searched for the right lie to coat the truth.
“I just don’t want to deal with Valaine,” I shifted my weight, hating how heavy the words felt already. “You know how she gets when she can’t get her way, and I don’t want her using magic just too–”
My words were cut off as I felt my mother’s arms around my neck, and I froze, staring at the lantern she had set back on the floor. She wasn’t squeezing me tightly, but the warmth of her embrace stole the air from my lungs. She just held me, one hand smoothing over the back of my neck, her fingers brushing against the fabric of my shirt.
“It’s okay to want space, Cyran,” she whispered, her voice steady and soft. “You don’t need to make excuses with me.”
I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat refused to budge. I wanted to tell her she was wrong. That I didn’t want space from her. That the idea of waking up without her nearby made me feel like I was back in that small room, holding her limp body, begging time to rewind. I wanted to scream that it wasn’t space I wanted, it was safety, to know that she would live. That the poison already fated to crawl through her veins in less than two years would never touch her.
But all I managed was a shaky breath.
“You’ve grown so fast,” she said with a small smile, pulling back just enough to cup my face. “When… your father died, I was worried how we would get by in Polec. If I would be able to take care of you, if we would even make it to your thirteenth birthday.”
“Ma–”
“You don’t have to explain wanting space, Cyran. You’re growing up, and it’s about time for you to stop clinging to your mother so much,” my mother interrupted and I noticed the tears in her eyes, but I knew they weren’t sad tears. The smile on her face told me she was proud, that she was happy, but also that this moment was bittersweet. “I’m proud that you’ve grown into such a mature boy.”
I finally lost my composure, wrapping my arms tightly around my mother’s shoulder, fighting to resist the tears that wanted to come. I knew if I started crying, my horns would manifest and I had done well to hide my transformation from her so far. She would eventually find out, but I didn’t want her to learn the truth on the last day we had together. I buried my face in her shoulder instead, letting the warmth of her arms around me be the anchor I needed to stay grounded. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t—not without the whole truth spilling out of me in a way I couldn’t take back. All I could do was hold on, tightly, selfishly, wishing there was some version of the world where I didn’t have to let go.
