Page 85 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
“I just want to know, Mother.”
“You will, in time,” she said, stroking his hair. “One day, everything will be yours, and you can do whatever you please.”
“What if,” said Cole, exhaustion gripping his body, “that’s not what I want?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I don’t want this? What if I don’t want to be king?”
His mother fixed him with a look, the kind given to children who’ve said ridiculous things and don’t know what they’re talking about.
“Why wouldn’t you want to be king, darling?”
Because I’m scared I’ll be like you.
“Forget it,” he said. His mouth felt gummy, his tongue thick. “I’m just… I’m just tired…”
His mother kept stroking his hair, lifting the wine up to his lips, as his body grew heavier and heavier. His vision was sinking.
“Mother, what…”
“It’s all right, dearest, Mother will make it all better…”
∞∞∞
That night, the first real frost of the year fell over Aberthor, dusting the forest with white. A great fog thickened over the landscape, shielding even the trees behind its eerie veil. The castle was claimed by it. Eirwen wondered if they’d have snow, and what that meant for Niamh’s body. She had no family. How would her remains be treated? What would they do with that cold shell now that the warmth had been sucked from it?
She was silent all day. Silent as Lord Hammersmith thanked her profusely, and set off with Wren to seek safety with his family. She was silent as Onyx muttered, over and over, that the queen should not be able to control the shades, and everyone else chimed in with their theories. She was silent through every argument about what to do next.
She did not care. She meant what she told Cole. Bianca could keep the throne, as long as no one else got hurt.
But people would. Every person Bianca executed after this point would be on her. She might not know them, but they would be somebody else’s Niamh. They could be someone else’s everything. At least, for all she meant to her, Niamh was not the only person Eirwen loved. She was not alone.
So why did it feel like it?
“I should have prepared you,” Onyx said. “This was never going to be done without bloodshed.”
“You could never have prepared me for this,” she said. It was the first thing she’d uttered since collapsing into his arms. “Nothing could.”
“There will be–”
“Don’t. Don’t try to prepare me. It won’t help. Nothing will!”
She marched off in the direction of her tent, and did not move until morning.
∞∞∞
Cole woke next morning in his own bed, utterly unsure of how he came to be there. The events of the night before rushed back like a wave, rolling layers of grief colliding into him.
Niamh. Niamh was gone.
He did not remember much of what happened after. His head was throbbing, his throat was dry, and he wasn’t sure what was to do with grief and what was a result of whatever his mother had slipped into his drink.
“It was just to calm you, darling,” his mother insisted when he questioned her about it. “Just to help you sleep.”
Perhaps his anger was unwarranted. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps he deserved it after drugging her. But he couldn’t help but feel the situations were not comparable. One, he had done it for the sake of a kingdom. She had done it for the ease, stripped him of his choices like one would a child.
No wonder I never felt ready to be king.
