Chapter Eight
Standing in Shuli’s white parlor, surrounded by modern masterpieces that looked like they could have been painted by kindergarteners, Beth rubbed her eyes and thought it would be great—just really goddamn great—if she could wake up from this bad dream.
When that didn’t happen, she stared across at her son, and for a split second, her brain insisted on trying to connect the fighter who was over there with the messy bandage on his shoulder with the other eras of L.W.
’s life: The infant, the toddler, the little boy, the pretrans.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a falsely reasonable tone. “What did you say?”
“He told me he was stepping down and I was King.”
“Yeah, I thought that’s what—Jesus Christ.” More with the eye rubbing. Not because she was crying. She was still hoping to blame this all on a bad REM cycle. “He didn’t mean it.”
“Sounded pretty convincing to me,” Shuli murmured.
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” L.W. shrugged. “I’m not doing that job.”
“Of course not.” Beth looked over her shoulder as a uniformed butler closed the door she’d left open. “Well, not now, at any rate—”
“Not ever.”
As she recoiled, Shuli cleared his throat. “You know what, I’m going to let the two of you talk. Whillis, let’s leave them—”
“You don’t have to go,” L.W. cut in as the aristocrat wheeled away like there was a gun pointed at his chest. “There’s nothing else to say, anyway.”
Shuli glanced over at her and slowly shook his head. “Yeah, my guy, I’m not so sure about that.”
Wonder what my face looks like, she thought numbly. Not that she couldn’t guess.
As her son’s ahstrux nohtrum disappeared down the hall with his servant, she decided that the night really was just a total write-off. “Look, we don’t need to go into this right now. And I have no idea what your father’s talking about, but I’m going to go find him and get this sorted out.”
“It doesn’t matter what’s happening.” When he went to shrug, he winced like his shoulder hurt, but then immediately seemed to throw off whatever pain there was. “I’m not going to be King. I won’t do it, not now, not tomorrow night or a year from now…not in a hundred years.”
Time slowed to a crawl. Then seemed to stop altogether.
A series of images flipped through Beth’s mind, all snapshots of this male standing before her—a stranger she had birthed.
“L.W., it’s been a long night.”
“All the nights are long. The days, too.”
She narrowed her eyes on the bandage. “How were you hurt?”
“I slipped and fell in the bathroom.”
“You’re not supposed to be out fighting.”
“Says who?” One of those brows lifted. “You can’t ground me, and the Brotherhood can’t stop me.
I’m a grown-ass male, and last time I checked, free will was still legal, even for those of royal blood.
Or are you thinking you can order me onto the throne like it’s vegetables that I have to eat before I get dessert. ”
There were so many things she wanted to say to him, questions she needed answered—even as she feared his responses. But instead of going into all that, she walked over to him and looked him right in the eye.
“Do not go after Lash.”
He smiled coldly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“There’s no death to ahvenge, okay? Your father’s back, he wasn’t killed. There’s no score to settle. It’s done—”
“The fuck it’s done,” L.W. growled. “The last thirty years? You think all that’s erased just because dear ol’ dad is back. I don’t.”
“Let it go, L.W.”
As they faced off at each other, she felt a familiar helplessness. And then she realized they’d always been heading to this confrontation. Always.
“If you don’t want your father’s legacy,” she said with piercing defeat, “if you don’t care about your birthright, about the species, about us…just go your own way. But some misplaced noble quest that takes you out into the middle of the war is just going to get you killed.”
As her voice choked off, she had the strange sense of drifting she remembered from years ago, her tether gone.
“I can assure you,” he tossed back, “there is nothing noble about what I’m doing.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Or is that the idea, she thought grimly.
In the tense silence that followed, she went back to right before he’d been born.
She’d read all kinds of parenting books to prepare herself, and they’d covered things like getting your baby onto a schedule, home remedies for colic, appropriate developmental stages like crawling and walking.
Even though it had been all human stuff, she’d been so delighted and excited to be in the club of mothers, and concerned with swaddling blankets, teething rings, and diapers.
Anticipating the birth of her and Wrath’s miracle had been such a joyful time. And then…
Things hadn’t gone the way she’d intended.
Maybe it had all been a mistake, holding the throne for him, piling that burden onto him. Maybe there were things she could have done, should have done, in the midst of her grief and anger…
Abruptly, she thought about the night his transition had hit.
Another anniversary alone, their family shattered, her by herself at the side of the bed as the change hit.
It was such a threshold, maturity arriving with shattering, transformative violence, a process that couldn’t be stopped and everybody went through.
And yet it was always a shocking surprise when it hit, in spite of all the signs of its impending arrival.
This moment was the same. So many clues to the breaking, coming over so many years, the estrangement a transition.
That led to death.
Certainly, another part of her was dying now.
“I am always going to be here for you,” she said roughly. “Always. Even if you never want my help or my…company. Or my love.”
Blindly pivoting away, she walked for the door.
“It’s not just about him.”
Beth stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her son had come forward, even though his hard expression hadn’t changed.
“I was with you, all those years,” he said grimly.
“I lived your suffering every night, and all day long when you weren’t sleeping.
I heard you cry, even when you tried to hide it.
I watched you go through the motions of my birthdays and your human Christmases.
I was with you, even though you were a ghost.”
“I tried to be what you needed, what you deserved,” she breathed. “I really did.”
“Lash took your hellren from you and stole my father and my mahmen from me. He fucked the Brotherhood and their mates. And he would have screwed the whole species if it hadn’t been for Rahvyn.”
“We can start over from here.” She returned to him and almost took his hand.
“We can just…live our lives. From here. You and me. If you don’t want the throne, that’s fine.
We’ll figure something out. The things that have happened…
we can’t erase them. We don’t have to keep at their shadows, though. We can begin again…now. Fresh.”
She didn’t believe that, but sometimes you said shit to your children because it was the best you could offer them. The only thing you could offer.
L.W. shook his head. “You handle what happened your way, I’ll handle it mine. And I can tell you right now, it’s not going to be with my ass on some old chair with a high back and all kinds of bowing and scraping going on at my feet.”
“The throne is more than that.”
“Not from where I’m looking at things.”
She rubbed her aching temples and blurted, “You’re not supposed to be fighting.”
“We already covered that, didn’t we.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that why my father fucked it all off just now? He wants to fight and not just be a figurehead?”
Beth opened her mouth. Closed it.
“Ah, so that’s it,” L.W. muttered. “But at least you can blame his nature for my own, can’t you.”
“What are you—?” She blinked in disbelief. “I’m not blaming…anyone for you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He laughed harshly. “I feel really sorry for your life, then. Oh, and if you tell anyone that I’m out fighting, I’m going to deny it, and if you try to stop me, you’ll never see me again. I’m not quitting until Lash is dead.”
As her heart pounded, she shook her head. “So why tell me at all?”
He frowned a little. Then shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, aren’t I lucky,” she said in a low voice. “I get to keep a secret that my son is suicidal. How fortunate am I. And you might keep in mind that Lash is immortal. You’re going to die trying to eradicate him, not ‘kill’ him. That term’s reserved for the living.”
“Or maybe I’ll do it,” L.W. shot back. “Maybe I’ll end the motherfucker. What I know for sure is that trying is a hell of a lot easier to live with than sitting on my ass under house arrest because I’m too special to get out there and do something. I’m no more important than anybody else.”
“You’re the heir to the throne!”
“And that doesn’t mean shit to me.”
“Your father didn’t volunteer for this legacy, either,” she snapped. “But he recognized the species needed a true leader, not some vigilante who’s full of misdirected anger.”
“I am not misdirected. Unless you’ve been keeping something else from everybody for thirty years, Mom. You got any other lies you want me to sit on? Or just the one.”
“How can you…say that.” She swallowed through a tight throat. “To me.”
“Do I need to remind you what you did all that time.”
“I kept everything going. For you.”
“I never asked you to do that. And don’t be so noble about bullshitting the entire species. It’s not the flex you think it is.”
All she could do was blink some more. And then she heard herself say, “Who do you really hate? You need to ask yourself that question…except what do I know, right? I just brought you into this world and did my best to try to keep you alive when you’d let me.”
“Don’t try to guilt me. It’s not going to work—and fine, you want to play introspection? I’ll give it a shot, if you’ll ask yourself why this family gets a special pass.”
“Special pass? Is that what you think we’ve had? Really?”
“Everyone else is out there in the field.” He swung his heavy, tattooed arm toward the front door of the modern mansion.
“All of the Brothers, all of the fighters. And their families shit themselves every night because the risks are real and the consequences can be permanent. But you get a pass because you mated the King. You are lucky because your mate isn’t allowed to go out into the field. ”
Try telling Wrath that, she thought bitterly.
And then she thought about the definition of luck.
“We are cursed, L.W.” She could only shake her head at him.
“Not only does the Lessening Society want your father dead, but so does half the aristocracy. And while we’re at it, your sire was so fucking lucky that he got to watch his parents get slaughtered in front of him—because of the throne.
At least yours have lived long enough for you to shut them out. ”
There was a tense stretch of silence.
“So why do you want me to sit on that old chair. If you love me so much.” When she didn’t respond, he cocked an eyebrow, just as Wrath did. “You have a comeback for that? No? I didn’t think so.”
As he went to turn away, she said sharply, “You promised me. No fighting.”
L.W. paused. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “I lied. Guess I got that from you, huh.”
In utter devastation, she watched him walk off down a hall. And when her breath hitched, she covered her mouth in case she let that scream out after all.
Blindly pivoting away, she started for the door she’d come through, and when she stepped outside, she just stood on the stoop and breathed for a while. When she finally had a little composure, she turned back to the shut door.
It was already closed.
She had no memory of doing that.
Maybe L.W. had come back and shut it on her.
God knew he’d been closing her out of his life for decades.