Page 97 of Between Fear and Favor

But maybe I was just being cynical. Maybe she truly wanted to get to know me. Since I’d been successful with siphoning ever since our argument in the courtyard, she had little to nag me about. As I tossed and turned in the soft bed, I dreaded what she’d planned for the swiftly dawning morning. I supposed there was little left to discover within the estate, after walking through what felt like endless sitting rooms, and visiting the Highclere tomb made sense.

But I’d had enough of loitering about graves, and the last thing I wanted to think about was Cyran, who’d joined me at the last one.

Throwing the duvet off, I clambered out of bed. It was strange to think of my mother growing up here. Mama was a messy countertop, flour filling the wooden cracks as she rolled out dough. Mama was herbs hanging to dry above the windowsill. She was my favorite rosemary roasted chicken and lingering hugs.

This place was cold and uninviting. The light-blue walls reminded me of winter, only adding to the frigidity of these quarters. Mama was warmth, and this was everything but. As I padded across the wooden floor to the wardrobe I’d taken over, I tried to remove Mama from my thoughts. But it was almost as if the very act of being here, in her childhood room, had brought me closer to her. In noticing all the ways it wasn’t a proper fit for her, I was thinking in detail about my mother. I didn’t want to. It made me miss her and it made me angry all over again.

I shouldn’t have had to choose between my mother and anger over Theo.

Although, as I tugged my dress on over my chemise, I knew I would have had to make a choice either way. Even if Mama weren’t involved, with Cyran insisting on taking the blame as the only remaining Umbroth, if I wanted vengeance for Theo, who could I take it from? As angry as I was with him for saying it, for making me face the situation with more maturity, I couldn’t hurt Cy. It was just as much his fault as it was Mama’s. Which was to say not at all.

But I couldn’t bring myself to write to her. Because then I would have to apologize. Then I would have to admit that she tried the best she could, and that I was sorry. But I wasn’t sure if I believed that yet, so I let the idea simmer within the heat of my anger a little while longer.

A light rap on the connecting bathing suite door sounded, and as I struggled with my stays, I was glad for my grandmother.

“Good morning, granddaughter,” Shivani said as I opened the door. She seemed surprised that I was awake and dressed. Usually I called for her to come in while bundled in a comfortable spot—still abed. “I was thinking that since it’s raining this morning?—”

“We don’t have to go to the tombs today?” I blurted.

She smiled—my father’s smile with a wide grin and perfect teeth—and unwrapped the scarf protecting her hair. My grandmother was quite striking. She unwound her braids from atop her head, letting them fall down her back. “We don’t have to go, no. But we shall not be idle, dearest one.”

“Of course not,” I replied, all solemn sincerity. “You could try teaching me piano again?”

She sighed, smile fading, as she pulled her robe tighter. “I do not know if I have the patience for that, but we shall find something to keep us busy.”

I laughed, not allowing her comment to strike a nerve. The noises which came from the piano when she’d tried to help me master my scales were objectively horrid.

“Now, I’m going to?—”

A sharp knock on my door stopped us from speaking. Mr. Carson wouldn’t come so early if it wasn’t important.

“Yes?”

“I-I uh, I’m so sorry Your Highness. There are—ah, this is quite amazing—there are dragons outside? And, well, the Folterran is here as well. I don’t know what I should...” The man trailed off.

“Dragons? You said there are dragons outside? Is my mother here? My father?”

“I do not think so. They don’t seem to have riders. There is quite a pretty blue one, and it landed on the fountain. The captain is out there with it now, and the others soar above the estate.”

“How many?” I demanded, suddenly fearful something bad had happened to my parents.

“Five, I think.”

“I’ll be right out,” I said, giving my grandmother my back so she could help me tighten my stays.

“What about the boy?” Mr. Carson called through the door.

“What about him?”

“Should I show him to the drawing room?”

I bit my lip as my grandmother pulled my stays a little tighter—almost as if she was irritated.

“I suppose,” I said, but I couldn’t think about Cy when I wasn’t sure why the dragons had come to Ravemont.

“Are they all right?Your parents, I mean?”

Cy hadn’t waited in the drawing room, and instead had followed me back outside while I greeted the dragons. Lux, Irses, and Ryo were not among them, so I assumed Mama and Otya had kept them in Astana. The fact they were all healthy told me my mother was too, but I wished I knew more. Tracing my hand over Shika’s snout, I smiled when she purred. Shika was the only dragon who made such a noise for me. Like a tremendously large pet, she lowered herself into a feline position, so much like Yvi; the shadow kitten my father had created was busy chasing mice at Crown Cottage. Tucking her legs beneath her, Shika settled and closed her eyes.

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