Chapter 76- I love him, but I dont like him #2
My son reached Ophelia and immediately abandoned Elias, throwing both arms around her neck the moment she accepted him.
She kissed his cheek.
He kissed hers.
I stared.
He had never kissed me voluntarily.
Once, Ophelia instructed him to kiss me goodnight.
He pressed his mouth against his own hand and placed the hand on my shoulder.
Everyone laughed.
"He calls me 'other parent,'" I said.
Ophelia adjusted the child against her hip. "He is learning."
"He says your name."
"He says Mama."
"He says Elias."
Elias smiled.
The child touched Ophelia's necklace.
"He says Elowen."
Elowen stepped closer and took one of his feet in both hands for reasons known only to her.
"He say El and He calls Lysandra 'Sana.'"
"Still a name," I said. Ophelia's smile grew. " But I'm Other parent."
Elias laughed.
One of the guards made a choking sound and turned it into a cough when I looked toward him.
"Do you understand how rude that is?" I asked Ophelia. "I contributed considerably to his existence."
She stared at me. Before rolling her eyes.
"I carried him for months."
"I supported you."
"You complained about my physician."
"He was incompetent."
"He saved both our lives."
"He touched you too often."
"He was performing surgery."
"I am aware."
"Are you?"
"I allowed him to live."
The guard coughed again. Ophelia waved one hand toward me as though dismissing both the argument and my existence.
Our son watched.
Then copied her.
His tiny hand moved through the air in my direction.
Dismissive.
My jaw tightened.
"He did that intentionally."
"He copied me," Ophelia said.
"No. There was malice."
Elias nodded gravely. "I saw it too."
Ophelia looked between us.
"You are both ridiculous."
My son placed his head against her shoulder and looked at me. His eyes narrowed. I narrowed mine in return. He lifted one hand.
Then pressed it against Ophelia's cheek as though claiming her.
I folded my arms.
"That is my wife."
The boy frowned.
"My mama."
"She was my wife first."
"My mama."
"I married her."
"My mama"
He buried his face against her neck.
The court would have called the gesture sweet. I recognized strategic retreat. Ophelia stared at me.
"You are arguing with a toddler."
"He started it."
Elias laughed so loudly that the guards gave up pretending not to listen.
The child had inherited my face.
That remained the greatest insult.
My Dark hair, my eyes, my lips, my nose, my entire face. The same severe expression whenever displeased.
People commented on it constantly. They looked at him and saw a smaller version of the emperor.
They were wrong.
I had possessed restraint at his age.
Probably.
Elias's accounts were unreliable. Our son possessed none. He threatened people with spoons. Claimed every chair beside Ophelia. Glared at anyone who made his sisters cry. Once bit my hand because I attempted to remove him from our bed.
He looked like me.
He behaved like every accusation ever made about me, only smaller and somehow beloved for it.
I had known I did not want a son. Something beneath reason had warned me. A boy carrying my blood would either hate me or become exactly like me.
I had not anticipated both.
Ophelia began walkingaway, still carrying him. Elowen moved beside her, immediately resuming the story about the missing jeweled pin. The boy listened from their mother's shoulder.
"I have no problem with him," I repeated.
Ophelia looked back.
"You tried to enroll him in another kingdom's military academy."
"I requested information."
"He was four months old."
"Planning is important."
"You asked whether they accepted children early."
"Sadly they don't ."
"Because he could not sit upright."
"That showed a lack of ambition."
Ophelia laughed.
I watched our son's head turn toward the sound. His face softened immediately. That was the part I could never truly resent.
He loved her. Not with the possessiveness people found amusing. With complete trust.
Ophelia entered a room and his entire body relaxed. If he woke frightened, he called for her. If he fell, he searched for her face before deciding whether the injury deserved tears. He followed her through the palace whenever permitted, carrying objects he believed she needed.
He loved his sisters too.
Elowen could cover him in glitter, ribbons, and jewelry without complaint. Lysandra could take his hand and lead him anywhere, and he followed with grave confidence. He sat outside their lessons until someone allowed him inside. If either girl cried, he became furious with the entire household.
He loved Elias for reasons I refused to investigate. Perhaps the child simply recognized another menace.
He loved everyone.
Almost.
Ophelia shifted him slightly and held one hand toward me.
The movement was casual.
An invitation.
I looked at it.
Then at her.
She waited.
I took her hand.
Our son noticed.
His gaze dropped toward our joined fingers. Then slowly lifted toward my face.
I expected outrage. Instead, he stared for several long seconds before resting his head against Ophelia again.
Permission.
Temporary.
I tightened my hand around hers before he reconsidered.
"He will make my life intolerable," I said.
Ophelia smiled.
"He already does."
"He will become worse."
"Probably."
"At five, he will begin issuing commands."
"like his father ."
"At ten, he will threaten foreign diplomats."
"Like his father."
"At fifteen, he will try to challenge my authority."
"Like hisfather."
Ophelia looked at me.
"You onow you secretly look forward to it ."
"I did not say I did not."
"You only said he was demonic, insufferable, violent, rude, and should be sent north."
"All accurate."
Her fingers tightened around mine.
"But you love him."
I looked toward the boy in her arms.
His eyes had begun closing. Exhaustion softened his face, making him appear younger and far less calculating. One small hand remained curled in the fabric near Ophelia's shoulder. Glitter still covered both cheeks. Elowen's necklaces rested crookedly across his shirt.
He looked ridiculous.
Fragile.
"Yes," I said.
Ophelia smiled.
I hated that she always forced simple truths from me as though they had been hiding.
"But I do not like him."