Tale of the Heart Queen (Artefacts of Ouranos #4)

Chapter 56

C HAPTER 56

NADIR

T HE A URORA K EEP

I make my way towards Amya’s wing later that evening.

Lor is waiting in my room, where my people will keep her presence a secret. I don’t like leaving her alone, but she can take care of herself. What I must do tonight, I must do without her at my side.

As I walk through the halls of the Keep, it feels strange and ominous that my father isn’t here. We might be completely wrong about our theories, looking for explanations where there aren’t any. But I also sense nothing amiss other than Father having descended into some kind of twisted madness. He abandoned this place to go searching for something .

Lord Herric of the Underworld.

Is that even possible? Were those the ravings of a madman too lost to the drink to see clearly?

Who was the “her” in his note?

I knock and Amya opens the door, blinking expectantly. Her dark hair is tied up, and she’s dressed simply in a black tunic and leather pants. She looks like she’s already been crying.

What I must do tonight, I must do with my sister.

“It’s time to see Mother,” I say, and she nods, understanding what that means.

Tomorrow, I will bond with Lor, and then we’ll go after my father. I don’t know what will happen, but if we succeed, then it is my every intention to end him. That has always been my goal, and no matter what complicated feelings I’m holding for the man who refused to be a father to me, that hasn’t changed.

That means tonight might be the last time I see my mother unless we meet in the Evanescence again.

When my father dies, so will she. We never got the chance to fix things, but there’s nothing I can do for her on this plane any longer. I’ll never forget the day my father tossed her into her room and shut the door on her forever. If we succeed, then she’ll finally be free, and that will have to be enough.

We skirt through the Keep and enter my mother’s wing, finding her staring out the window. One of her caretakers bows at the sight of us and then leaves to offer us privacy.

I kneel in front of my mother and take her frail, cold hands. She continues to stare out the window.

Amya stands behind me with her arms folded, her body curving into itself. She’s never been comfortable in this room .

“Mother,” I say. I get stuck on the words. I don’t know how to tell her this, but I have to. I don’t know where to begin, so I share everything.

Starting from the very beginning, I tell her about Lor in Nostraza and the Sun Queen Trials. I tell her about my mate, about how much I love her, and how she makes me feel. I hold nothing back. I tell everything to my mother, including the fact that we might never see her again.

I lay out my heart, my hopes, and everything I’ve kept in. It’s now or never.

When I’m done, I feel lighter. Like I can breathe. I drop my head in her lap. “I love you,” I say. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

Amya and I wait in silence as we prepare to say goodbye.

But a moment later, someone touches my hair, fingers softly running through it. I look up, and she’s staring at me.

“Mother?” I ask. I can’t remember the last time she moved or touched me or even noticed I was here. Her eyes. For the first time in decades, her eyes are awake. They fill with tears that remain suspended just on the edge of everything.

“You never failed me,” she says so softly that I must strain to hear it. “It was I who failed you, Nadir. Over and over. If I had just been strong enough to stand up to him . . .”

Her hand falls from my head, her lips pressing together as a tear finally slips down her cheek, curving under her chin.

“No,” I say, taking her hand in mine and pressing it to my face. “You did the best you could. He is a monster.”

She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, her head shaking slightly as if disagreeing. Another tear streaks down her cheek. “You found your mate,” she says, looking at me before her mouth curls into the ghost of a smile. “All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

She leans over and presses her nose to the top of my head, inhaling deeply like she’s pulling me into her soul.

“Do whatever you need, my boy. Whatever you need to be free of him.”

“But this is it,” I say. “Your life here is over.”

“It was over so many years ago. I’m ready. I only wanted what was best for you, to protect you, and I did such a poor job of that. All I can do is try to live with that guilt.”

“Don’t,” I say. “When you get to the Evanescence, be free of this. Okay? I don’t want you to feel guilty for anything.” I squeeze her hand.

Another tear slides down her cheek, and then her gaze moves to Amya, who watches her with a mixture of fear and vulnerability on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Mother says. “I’m sorry that I never had the chance to know you.”

Amya’s face pulls together, her lower lip trembling as she sniffs. She wipes an errant tear with the back of her wrist.

“And I’m sorry that I let him take you from me. I always wanted a daughter,” she whispers, and there’s so much heartbreak in it that my chest nearly cracks.

Amya chokes out a sob, and then she dives forward, wrapping her arms around Mother’s neck and sobbing against her.

“I’m sorry,” Amya says. “I should have come here more. I should have tried harder to understand, too.”

Mother doesn’t move at first, and I watch her face, something passing over her expression that speaks to every haunting memory that lives in her thoughts—every moment of pain caused by my father. Every tear and cry of anguish.

Slowly, her arms lift to wrap around Amya as if she’s just taught herself how to hug someone. At that moment, I curse the short memories of our childhoods.

I remember her in flashes—her warm smile and snuggling up with her under the blankets. I remember soft touches and her singing as she helped me drift off to sleep, but they’re distant, buried in the haze of so many passing years. What I wouldn’t give to go back and have a record of it all. Of our lives rendered in relief or on an oil canvas to remember forever.

We were happy. With her, I was happy, even if it was so brief.

Amya sobs and another tear drifts down my mother’s cheek.

“Thank you,” my mother says. “I know . . . I know I haven’t said much, but I’ve appreciated every day you’ve visited me. Neither of you had to do that. Neither of you owed me that. Not after how I let you down. But know that every time you’ve come to see me, I’ve been so proud that you both turned out the way you did.”

My chest aches, a heavy knot tying up my ribs. I wrap my arms around both of them, and we hug for a long time. My eyes burn with so many unshed tears, and when I can’t hold on any longer, one falls, landing on my mother’s dress, where the fabric darkens. I stare at it, contemplating the entirety of my existence in that one spot.

We hang on a little longer, and then we pull apart.

Amya is hiccupping, her eyes bloodshot and makeup running down her cheeks. She wipes at her tears, and my sister looks different. She, too, looks lighter.

“Mother, we’re going after him tomorrow,” I say.

“After you bond to your mate,” she says, covering my hands with hers. “I understand. I hope she takes good care of you, Nadir. You deserve that after caring for me for all these years. You deserve everything.”

I smile and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“No one will take better care of me than Lor,” I say. “No one would dare cross her.”

“Then she sounds perfect for you.”

I touch her cheek, running my thumb along the bone.

“I am ready to go,” she says. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you someday,” she whispers. “I hope. And I’ll miss you, too,” she says. “More than you can ever know.”

I press a kiss on her cheek and then pull away.

“Goodbye, Mother.”

“Goodbye,” she whispers, “my children.”

Then Amya and I turn to leave.

As the door closes behind me, I feel so many things I can’t begin to put into words. As children, we’re taught to believe that good will win over evil. That there is always sun after the storm. But those are fairytales meant to keep us warm.

I couldn’t free my mother from this pain while she lived. There will be no justice for her in this life, but I have to believe that once she crosses over, she will be at peace, and only my father will feel the retribution of his sins. Inside this Keep, evil has won out over and over, but this story isn’t quite finished yet.

“I wish we could have had more time,” Amya says, looking at me. “Why couldn’t we have had her like that? Why did she talk to us now?”

Still holding the handle, I allow my head to drop against the door. Taking in a deep breath, I blow it out slowly before I look at Amya. “I don’t think that was who she is anymore, and I suppose she understood this was the end, too.”

Amya folds her arms and scrubs a hand across her cheek. “I guess.”

“She found the strength she could never offer us and gave us that last moment at least. Now we can remember her this way.”

“Yeah.” She nods, and we share a look.

Then I reach out and take her hand before my sister and I walk away from our mother for the very last time.