Page 93 of Between Despair and Hope

She stepped forward, running her fingers through Elora’s hair and leaning down to kiss the crown of her daughter’s head. “Did you finish the garden piece?” Emma murmured to the girl, her chin resting on top of her head as she put her arms around her. It was sweet, and I smiled as I watched the two of them. From our conversation, it seemed as if Elora was still trying to wrap her head around everything and figure out parts of her mother she didn’t quite know. I wondered how Rainier was fitting into all of it.

“Ven? A word?” Mairin asked behind me.

I closed my eyes, exhaling softly. I’d come here to speak to her, so I didn’t know why I suddenly regretted it. Pushing my chair out, I stood and wadded up my drawing and tossed it into the center of the table with the rest of the scraps.

“Thanks for trying to teach me your ways, Elora.”

“Thanks for helping me irritate Mama,” she said. Emma pinched her, and the girl squeaked as her mother pushed me out of the way with her hip, stealing my seat at the table.

Chuckling, I turned and made my way over to the merrow. Looking infuriatingly beautiful with fire and autumn curls and plump curves that didn’t stop, she watched me as I walked over before leading us out into the great room. Somehow, she set me on edge, making me feel vulnerable. I didn’t want to admit to myself that she’d hurt my feelings by keeping her distance these past few weeks since I’d moved into the palace.

“We need to speak about a few things,” she said, voice low.

“Yes.”

Her gaze tracked over me, moving from my booted feet up to my face, not stopping on the features she’d once paid attention to before. Waving her hand for me to follow, she didn’t even bother looking at me.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I accused.

“Spare me. I’m not—” She sighed, grumpy. “Lavenia, I’ve been giving you space. But with our upcoming trip, I thought we should talk.”

“I had some things I wanted to talk to you about too.”

She led us toward the front of the estate, bringing us to the study, where she closed the door behind us.

“The Sea Queen, huh?” I asked, voice tighter than I intended. I watched her freckles blend into the rosy blush painting her cheeks.

“How does one bring that up? Being a merrow is more than enough to elicit fear, but to mention my mother? Besides, she has hundreds of children.”

“But you’re the last daughter. Mairin…”

“So?”

“That has to mean something. Are you in line for—for a throne?” I asked.

She threw her head back and laughed. I tried not to look at the long line of her throat and the freckles across the ample swells of her breasts.

“My mother would have to die for that, and, well, she can’t.”

“What do you mean, she can’t?”

“I mean, I spent a few hundred years trying.”

My jaw dropped, and my blood ran cold.

“Wha—what?”

“The seaborn aren’t like you. My mother encouraged it.” She shrugged. As if that was why I was dumbstruck. Although, to be fair, I should have found attempted matricide more shocking.

“How old are you?” My voice cracked.

“Oh. Four hundred and something. I forget now. Closer to four hundred than five hundred.”

“And you didn’t bother mentioning that?”

“Why would I mention it? I’ve only been land-side for about a decade.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I started pacing as she removed her cloak, tossing it onto the back of a maroon wing-backed chair which clashed horribly with her hair.

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