Page 172 of Promise of Darkness
“Power,” she whispers. “Enough power to face your mother on your own terms. Enough power to take what is rightfully yours. You could claim her throne. You could rule your kingdom. You could rule the entire Alliance with what I could give you.”
I think of Thiago, who sacrificed everything, year after year, just for me.
With the power the Mother gives me, I wouldn’t have to beg her to break the curse. I could shatter it myself and ruin my mother. We could rule both Asturia and Evernight together.
The other kingdoms would not allow that, some part of me whispers.
There would still be war, only we would be fighting it on at least three fronts.
And what would Thiago say in the face of such power?
He’d demand to know where it came from.
“Does he have to know?” the Mother whispers, as if she can read my every thought. “The curse steals your memories of him. Why not twist it? Why not take a single memory from him? He never has to know you were not born with this power.”
I could have it all.
Magic. A throne. Thiago.
I came here, knowing I would lose him, but with this offer, I wouldn’t have to.
It’s so incredibly tempting.
The Old Ones like to whisper empty promises. Beware their gifts, for they all have a sting.
“No.” Slowly, I push to my feet. “All I want is for you to undo the curse. The rest I can manage on my own.”
Large, unblinking eyes lock upon me. “He will never forgive you for this.”
I know.
But I could never let him love me knowing I had stolen a piece of him, the same way my mother had stolen from me.
“If I steal his memories, then I am no better than my mother. That isn’t love. It’s fear. And I won’t live its lie. I just want the curse broken.”
She tilts her head as if examining me anew. And then she smiles.
“So, we are agreed,” she says, “upon the gift. Now, we must come to terms with the price.”
I swallow hard. “Name it.”
I tilt my chin up, knowing she’s going to demand her freedom and prepared to fight her on it. There is little I can offer—that I will offer. Nothing that hurts my people, or the people of Evernight. The price must only affect me. I’m even willing to grant her my soul upon my death, if need be, but she surprises me.
“I want your firstborn child.”
I see a glimpse of a child’s face, her eyes dark and blinking. I’ve never dared put the idea into words, but there’s a little piece of me that yearns to hold that baby in my arms. “No.” It’s a mother’s instinct—even if I’m not yet one—that burns through me, fierce and protective. “That is not an option. I will not give you my future child.”
“Come now,” she says. “If such a child does not yet exist, how does the loss affect you?”
“Find. Another. Option.”
“My freedom,” she whispers, leaning forward in a predatory manner.
“No.”
The Mother smiles. “So, you come here, into my realm, with nothing to offer me. You will not grant me my freedom, and you will not gift me the fate of your firstborn. What do you have to offer?”
It’s here. I tremble. “My soul upon my death.”
