Chapter 11
Let the Father Battle the Daughter’s Fear
Rafaela and I climbed halfway up the spiraling staircase before she spun—quick, like the foxlike feethle—and bared fangs down at Cosette, who buzzed at our backs like a circling insect about to bite.
“Let me make this as plain to you as possible. Stay away, or I will make you. And if I don’t, Soravelle will, and she won’t hesitate.”
Cosette flicked a grapeseed-sized glare between me and my mother.
Rafaela stalked down a step so they were face to face. Such a strange sight, when Cosette was barely taller than Rafaela’s perfect, never-been-broken nose.
“I’ve waited to get my daughter back for so long that I lost hope I’d ever see her again. There is absolutely no chance I will allow you to take her away from me.”
Cosette harrumphed. “I’ll involve the emperor’s office—”
“Do that. I’m eager to inform my good friend Junot how his ‘investigatory soldier’ is preventing a distraught and grieving mother from reuniting with her daughter.”
I almost snorted at the incongruous distraught mother picture Rafaela was painting. But just the scant minutes in her company were sufficient to bolster my self-control.
The woman was as much a cunning, opportunistic predator as the s?ngmortarán spider. Though smaller than my thumbnail, the s?ngmortarán was the deadliest of its kind in all the Opalese World. Its venom killed instantly. There were no known antivenom, since none could act quickly enough.
All the s?ngmortarán had to do was spin its web … and wait. When it finally struck, its meal received no second chances.
Rafaela had already given Cosette more chances than I’d ever known her to give anyone.
Stepping onto the second-floor landing, I glanced back. Cosette was finally gone.
My shoulders relaxed a smidgen.
“Parvnits are such pests,” Rafaela said, turning in the direction of her and Alonso’s chambers.
With my dirty, bare feet so out of place amid the shiny, iridescent marble flooring, I followed.
Did a double take.
My step hitched.
Prominently displayed beneath a chandelier, lit up with dozens of lumoons in place of candles, hung a painting.
It was life-sized, a masterfully realistic rendering.
Its frame was a gilded, overly ornate, clunky thing as wide as my forearm.
I startled to feel Rafaela’s lips near my ear only an instant before she spoke; I played it off as shock at the painting’s subject.
“It’s brought me great comfort over the years. It made me feel like my family was still together even when we’d been torn apart.”
Seated in the front in their matching thrones—Alonso’s ten percent larger and grander than hers—were my parents.
Their crowns shone importantly atop their heads, highlighted with gold leaf, and their joined hands linked them.
With his free hand, Alonso clutched the scepter of the D’Arco dynasty.
Hers rested in the lap of lavish skirts.
Teo and I stood behind them, a hand each to the shoulder in front, the devoted son behind the mother, the equally devoted daughter behind the father.
As male and female, we couldn’t be identical twins, but save for the differences due to our genders, we were practically the same.
In his face, I recognized mine. Through him, I learned to accept myself.
Long, straight, shiny hair, dark as the jagune jungle cat’s fur.
Gold-leaf-accentuated circlets atop our heads.
Bronzed skin that contrasted starkly with the pale alabaster of our parents.
Brown eyes that were dark or warm, depending on our moods.
The full, bright mouths. The striking features slanting out from round faces. The tall, slender, strong frames.
When I last saw this canvas, the painter had only just been sketching in our shapes with broad strokes of sepia. To complete a canvas of this size and detail would have taken many months.
How long have I been gone? I meant to ask. Yet a different question croaked out—ultimately, the one that truly mattered.
“Where is Teo?”
When Rafaela didn’t answer, I tore my eyes from the painting that wasn’t supposed to exist.
Her gaze was gentle, compassionate. Her eyes hadn’t been this soft even when she was explaining how she’d really “rebirthed” us, not killed us as the facts suggested.
Heartbreak squeezed my heart with a vengeance.
“Come,” Rafaela said, the one word maternal. Fear speared through me. “Let Alonso see you first. He’ll never forgive me if I keep you from him.”
Alonso would forgive her anything. “Where is he?” I breathed.
Rafaela sighed. “Just … come.”
She walked far down the hall and entered her rooms before I got my body to follow.
Alonso burst through the door and used his s?nglure speed to race toward me. In seconds I was wrapped in his arms. He inhaled as if my scent were life itself, peppering kisses against my hair.
He, too, wore no crown.
His arms trembled against my back. “Sora, my darling little serpunta, you’ve come home to me at long last.” Like Rafaela, he spoke Durron, when he’d never directed it at me before.
I felt as if I would like to remain in his embrace forever and allow his strength to compensate for my flagging. Let the father battle the daughter’s fear, even though he wore no weapons and always had before.
Tempting, most definitely. But that had never been my way.
Tears stung my eyes but didn’t spill over. I drew back only as much as I needed to see his face.
“Where is Teo?” When my mouth quivered, I pressed my lips tightly together. Even in those awful moments, I understood I’d regret it later. There was no privacy anywhere within the palace, and certainly not with Rafaela just down the hall.
But I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t care.
His mouth trembled. His forehead scrunched in pained creases and his throat bobbed.
I slumped into Alonso’s arms and allowed him to carry all of my weight.
He tried to hold not just me up, but also my grief, and that wasn’t possible.
It was too great. Too monumental. Too all-encompassing.
Too fundamentally altering. Too … eternal.
It had already burrowed deep into my bones and latched on like spurs so as to never leave me.
When the first sob shuddered through me, I wondered how I’d ever get myself to stop crying. There seemed no way.
Heartbreak, you cruel, cruel cunt… I’m going to hunt you down and kill you if you don’t end me first.