Page 86 of The Gambler's Prize
My heart hammers so hard in my chest. I can’t even feel my hands. I’m nibbling obsessively on my fingernail, about to draw blood. Grimes gently pulls my hand from my mouth.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper. “What do I do, Boss?”
He takes my face in his hands. “You look at me,” he says softly. “You take one breath after another and keep looking at me.”
I nod as he keeps holding my face and try to breathe steadily in and out.
“What if she decides she doesn’t want anything to do with me?” I say.
“Then I’ll still be here.” Grimes’ words settle over me. His calm, strong eyes lock on me. My terror settles into a just-manageable ball in my chest. No matter what, he’ll still be here. Forever.
“But if you really don’t want to do this, we can go home any time,” he adds.
“No. We’ve come this far.”
I really meanhe’scome this far. He tracked down my mother single-handedly. He spent weeks writing back and forth to some of his shadier contacts in Rhennes, following up dead end after dead end with patient, loving doggedness, until he finally found her. She’s right here in Obal, the city where Grimes and I live now. Just because she’s close didn’t mean I wanted to rush into meeting her. It took me a few weeks to get used to the idea. My nerves were at fever pitch. Still are, if I’m honest. We’ve decided on a neutral location. Neither her place nor ours. That’s why Grimes and I are sitting on a bench under the shade of some trees in the city park, waiting.
This city is the perfect place for a fresh start. Obal is very different from Galbrava, and very different from Rhennes. It’s a cosmopolitan place, but troubled. Its strategic position means it has changed hands countless times during the endless war between Rhennes and Callinth. Now that the peace deal hasheld for a few years, people are starting to believe that the war might actually be over. But the battered old city remembers, its city walls pockmarked with cannon fire, and fortifications still obvious on every major building.
Both Rhennians and Callinthens live here, alongside Obalians. The scents of Rhennian and Callinthen treats drift from restaurants and street food vendors. The city’s fashion shows the mix of cultures. I’ve even started introducing a few Callinthen items into my wardrobe, after a lifetime of only acknowledging my Rhennian side. Grimes helped me arrange my bright Callinthen necklaces, the usual adoration in his eyes. He knew that looking perfect would help me to face meeting my mother with as much confidence as I can muster. After over a year together, I trust him more than ever. Our love has grown into something deep, strong: unbreakable. I need him by my side while I meet my mother. My future meeting my past.
Grimes nudges me and points. “Could that be her?”
My heart leaps into my throat. The woman walking along the path turns to face me, and my nerves settle again. It isn’t her. I haven’t seen her since I was a child, but I’d know her anywhere.
I shake my head, massaging my chest. My heartbeat feels like a drumbeat. Grimes looks at me, worry and care in his eyes. Back when he hated me, I never knew his eyes could look so soft as they do now. Now they always hold that expression for me, except when I’m crawling to him in my maid’s uniform. Then they burn down at me like a ravaging volcano.
Sometimes I can’t believe that we got past everything we did to each other. I sent him to prison. He sent me into a beating that could’ve killed me. Neither of us meant for those horrible things to happen, but even so the shadows of suffering could’ve snuffed out any hope for us. Forgiveness and love turned out to be stronger. When I was Grimes’ servant he could’ve treated me so much more harshly while staying within the law. No onecould’ve helped me. But he didn’t. He proved his character when I was under his power. Now when I look at him, I know he doesn’t blame me for the two worst years of his life. Just like I don’t blame him anymore for the attack by the Durovians. He’s looking at me now as though he wishes he could take all of my worry and anxiety and suffer it for me.
“You’re so tense, flower.” He massages my shoulders, ignoring the stares of a very prim-looking couple who are walking by.
“What if my mother rejects me?” I say.
“She won’t. And if she does…”
He scowls, suddenly looking like the terrifying man I used to think him.
“Promise you won’t throw her into the pond,” I say. There’s a placid body of water next to us, with ducks quacking and a few lily flowers floating on the surface.
“No promises,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s trying to make me laugh, or if he means it. Probably a bit of both.
“People are looking at me,” I say. “Can they tell how nervous I am? Maybe we shouldn’t have done this in public—”
“l don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks,” he says. “All I care about is you. I’d chase everyone out of this park in a moment if you wanted me to.”
His eyes bore into mine. He always centers me right in the middle of the universe. It makes my heart turn over. It’s too much, of course. He’s biased. I’m not that special. But when he looks at me like that, sometimes I believe I am. He loves me so much more fiercely than he ever hated me. It gives me strength I never thought I had.
“Could that be her?” he says.
I look in the direction he’s pointing. No mistake this time. My mother is walking toward me, looking no older than in my memory.
I stop breathing, stop feeling Grimes’ hand in mine, as our eyes meet. She looks so scared. More scared than me. It releases me from my prison of terror. I stand. She’s getting closer. She sees me. Something in her face cracks. Something inside me cracks. Grimes grabs at my arm to hold me up, and somehow grabs my mother too, his reach suddenly superhuman. He leads us both to the bench.
“Take a moment,” he says.
I’ve never been so grateful to him for taking charge.
My mother and I just look at each other, wordless, under the bright Obalian sun. There are flowers on the tree behind her, and seeing her face outlined against them transports me back to our garden. The time that’s passed plays some kind of trick, shrinks, wraps itself up into a concertina shape, and it’s gone. I can almost smell the strawberries again.
