Chapter Thirty-Five
The Spring Queen
Crossbody
A firm knock sounded on the front door as I stood at the top of the stairs, my heart thudding hard and sweat prickling under my clothes.
Why was my mother here? She’d never visited before. As far as I was aware, she’d never even been to this world before. She’d managed to find my address about a year after I’d moved here—probably ordering a staff member to do it, who’d in turn found a fae in this world to carry out the task—but only to send me vitriolic letters, reminding me that I was a coward and a terrible son and a disgrace to her name.
Reminding me that no matter where I went, she would always be able to find me. That she would always get her way in the end, no matter how long it took. My mother was very good at being patient when it came to both her ruthless ambition and her cold desire for vengeance on those who slighted her. She didn’t have a hot temper. She didn’t act rashly or make rushed decisions. She was calm and calculating and utterly vicious in a very careful and thought-out way.
And she was here. At my home. At the place I’d found for myself to escape her and her palace and her unflinching expectations of me.
One of the guards knocked again, harder this time. Almost threateningly. I knew they wouldn’t leave. My mother wouldn’t allow herself to be made a fool of, not after coming all this way for some unknown, terrifying reason.
You can do this , I told myself, gripping the banister and beginning to slowly descend the stairs, my legs trembling. You can hold your own against her. You can. Just get through it. Don’t agree to anything, don’t allow her to manipulate you, don’t let her make you feel small and weak and worthless.
Don’t let her destroy everything you’ve built for yourself.
I found myself nervously trying to smooth down my hair. I hadn’t even brushed it yet, and I knew the way she’d look at me.
I hurriedly dabbed my forehead with my shirt sleeve, because I could feel my hairline prickling with sweat. With trembling fingers, I unlocked the front door and opened it.
When I laid eyes on her from up close, it seemed like all the air went out of my lungs at once.
She said nothing at first, just slowly looked me up and down, her features still delicately arranged into the disdainful but still regal expression she had perfected. The guards were silent and unmoving, but the two standing on either side of her were watching me with blank expressions.
“So this is where you’ve been… slumming,” she finally said. The sound of her voice for the first time in six years made my entire body clench up in fear.
I didn’t speak or move, my palm damp as I clutched the door handle. When her chin dipped in a curt nod, the two guards standing either side of it walked inside silently, brushing past me. And I let them.
I let her walk inside uninvited too, her nose wrinkling as she took in the front hallway. She didn’t look at me again, just allowed her guards to lead her into my living room while the others followed, except for two who stayed outside, flanking the front door and facing the driveway.
Finally, I moved, my legs unsteady as I walked slowly into the living room. A guard had laid a swathe of lavender silk on my couch, covering the cushions so she could sit. She looked around again, lip curling as she took in the TV, the lamps, the modern furniture. Then she lifted a gloved hand to her nose.
“Is there a wild animal in here?” she asked in disgust. “It stinks. And there’s dirty fur everywhere.”
My nostrils flared. My house did not fucking stink. And she was wearing a fucking fur stole.
At once, a guard produced an embroidered handkerchief, which she delicately held under her nose.
I finally spoke, my voice hoarse. “I have a cat.”
“You have a what ?” She looked revolted. “Those things that are kept in barns to eat mice and rats? Do you have rats skittering through this… hovel?”
I started breathing harder with anger. My house was not a fucking hovel.
“She’s my pet,” I grated, suddenly fiercely protective of Lady Potato.
Mother sniffed. “Well, it’s certainly not coming with you to the palace.”
My heart gave a horrified thud. “I’m… I’m not going back to the palace.”
“Yes. You are.”
My skin prickled as I opened and closed my mouth wordlessly. Two new guards suddenly appeared, one carrying a full tea set and the other a folding table. They efficiently set both out in front of my mother and began pouring her a cup.
“I’m not,” I croaked weakly, despising myself for letting her do this—turn up unannounced, come into my house and make herself at home while I just stood there, allowing it. Allowing her to start getting under my skin with just a few words, making me feel weak and afraid and powerless.
She snorted delicately, peeling off her gloves. “This shameful farce has gone on long enough. I’ve allowed you to spend some time here, making a fool of yourself and acting like a”—her nose wrinkled again—“degenerate, but enough is enough.”
“You didn’t allow me to do anything,” I found the courage to say. “I left.”
Her lips tilted into a cruel smile as she handed her gloves to a silent guard. “Yes. Scurried off into the night like a fearful little mouse. It was quite humiliating for me, you know,” she added lightly, accepting the cup a guard held out for her. “For my subjects to realise that one of my sons had fled from his responsibilities like a weak coward. But I managed to spin the situation. Told them you had gone on a little venture to become more worldly or some such nonsense. I can’t remember exactly what I said now.”
I clenched my jaw. “I knew if I told you I planned to leave, you would have tried to stop me.”
“Of course I would have. What you’re doing is an embarrassment.”
I’d already suspected that she’d kept tabs on me enough to know what my job was. Defiant anger surged through me, making me raise my chin and squeeze my hands together so tightly behind my back that my bones ached.
“I love my job,” I rasped. “And it’s a very good job. One I enjoy.”
She laughed lightly. “ That is not a job, my dear son. It’s a mockery of everything you represent. It’s nothing more than parading yourself in a shameful state of undress in front of a gaggle of uncouth creatures frothing at the mouth for a show of violence and cheap theatrics.”
Something inside me wilted, and my throat worked as I tried to think of a response. Anything. I couldn’t.
“And as I said,” she continued airily, setting down her cup and smoothing out her dress, “it’s over. You are done.”
“No,” I rasped unsteadily. “It’s not. I’m not. I’m staying here.”
“I’m afraid you don’t get to tell me no.” She laughed again, but it was sharper this time. “You are my son. My property. Which is why I remind you, yet again, that I have allowed you to throw this little tantrum, and now you are coming home.”
“No, I’m not,” I said weakly. It was like talking to a brick wall.
“Arrangements have already been made.” She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ianthe will be arriving at the palace in—”
“No,” I blurted in horror. Her face stiffened at the interruption. “No.”
“Did you not get my letter?” she asked demurely. “I did tell you it was happening.”
“I’m not coming back,” I said, breathing fast. “I’m not marrying her. You can’t make me.”
She laughed—a tinkling sound like water trickling over rocks in a stream. I was shaking, but I found the strength to square my shoulders and lift my chin.
“Please leave.”
None of them moved. Fear tightened my limbs when my mother finally rose from the couch and slowly swept closer to me.
“You don’t get to tell me to leave,” she said in a cold, unnervingly soft voice. “And you also don’t get to decide what happens to you. I do. I am the queen. You exist, my dear son, solely to continue my name and my bloodline. That is your only purpose. The only reason you are even alive.”
It shouldn’t have hurt. I’d always known that was how she regarded her children—as her property, as useful but inconvenient things she could puppeteer—but something in my chest still cracked.
“It seems I may have made an error of judgement in allowing you to play pretend for a few years.” She sighed, eyeing me with disdain again. “You’ve only grown more disobedient.”
“I’m a fucking adult,” I gritted out hoarsely. “I have a life. My own life. You may not think I deserve to have a life outside of what you want, but I do. I do,” I repeated, as if to convince myself.
“You don’t get to talk to me that way, boy,” she said, her voice soft and threatening.
“Actually, I do,” I somehow found the courage to say. “What can you actually do to force me to do anything?”
“What can I do ?” she echoed with another laugh, walking back over to the couch to sit. “What can I not do, my dear son?”
“You… you don’t have any kind of power here,” I said unsteadily. “You’re not a queen here.”
“You think that would stop me?” She shot me a vicious smile. “You really think I haven’t spent the last few years ensuring that you are…” She cleared her throat delicately, lips curving once again with a sly smile this time. “Still within my grasp?”
My mouth dried out. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, nothing nefarious .” She tutted. “Nothing unseemly. Well, except having to associate with the lawless fae who choose to live in this polluted, grimy realm. But I have been making useful connections, my dear. People who can easily dismantle this sad little life you’ve been living.”
“I don’t believe you,” I croaked. Her delicately arched brow rose.
“No? So I don’t have the manager of your bank at my beck and call, ready to drain your account and leave you penniless? Or a city officer who can declare this squalid little house condemned and force you out of it?”
I felt sick. “You can’t—”
“Or a government official ready to shut down that disgusting wrestling business the moment I tell him to?” She inspected her manicured fingernails. “Or a judge willing to issue a warrant to have the assets of that slimy empyn running the place seized? His business, the buildings he owns…”
I swallowed hard. “Why would you—”
“And, of course, there are those unscrupulous colleagues of yours,” she added lightly. “Who I’m sure you regard as friends . Do they have the skills to do anything but writhe around in front of a braying crowd of rabid creatures? I highly doubt it. What would they do if they were suddenly unemployed, I wonder? All because of you. I can’t imagine they would want to associate with you any longer. In fact, they’d probably all despise you.”
My throat closed up as I thought of Vince. I had no doubt that she really would do all those things if I refused to obey her, and I couldn’t bear the thought of ruining his life like that.
Having him hate me again. Not now. Not after everything.
“Of course, it won’t come to any of that.” She smiled at me in cold satisfaction. “Because you’re coming home and you’re marrying Ianthe.”
“I… I don’t want to marry Ianthe,” I said hoarsely. “Please.”
Her brows pinched delicately. “Do you think that makes a difference?”
“Please,” I croaked again. “You… you don’t even need me. Ariyon can—”
“What your younger brother will or will not do when I tell him to is irrelevant here,” she said sharply. “You are still failing to realise, my dear son, that it doesn’t matter what I can get from others. This is what I want from you, so this is what I am getting.”
I was trembling as I stood there, sweat dampening my shirt. When my mother rose from the couch, I flinched.
“You know, you really have made this so much more difficult than it needed to be,” she said lightly, holding out her hand for her gloves. The guard presented them in silence. “If you had just come to me and discussed your misgivings instead of fleeing like a coward, I might have reconsidered.”
That was an utter fucking lie. I’d begged her not to make me marry Ianthe. I’d promised to find myself someone else, someone I actually liked and could see myself being with, someone who would still be able to deliver the only thing she wanted from me—children to continue her bloodline.
She had completely ignored me.
“Now, however…” She tittered, sliding on her gloves. “I find myself stubbornly digging my heels in. Just like you attempted to do. But in a battle of wills, my son, I never lose.”
“Please,” I rasped, hating myself for pleading with her. “Please don’t do anything. Please. I—”
She tutted. “Don’t be silly. I won’t need to, because you’re going to come home. I just wanted to remind you that it would be very easy for me to take this all away. That what little you do have here can be gone in an instant.”
One of the guards silently lifted the tea set while another folded the table. A third picked up the silk she’d been sitting on and began to fold it neatly.
“You’ll be home in one week,” she said as she approached. I flinched when she cupped my chin in a gloved hand and smiled at me. “You see? I can be understanding, my dear. At least I’m giving you time to say goodbye to all your little friends.”
“I’m… I’m not coming,” I said weakly, almost a whisper.
“Ah. Well. That would be unfortunate. Then I suppose you’d better start searching for a new job. A new house. Really, a whole new place to live in this dirty little realm.” She laughed lightly. “Because by the time I am done with you, my dear, you will have nothing, and I will make sure it stays that way, which means your only chance of surviving would be to disappear to some far-flung corner of this world. So it really would be best for you to just come home.”
Her guards began to file out of the room. I heard one of them open the front door as I stood there unmoving, frozen with fear.
She finally released my chin and stepped back, sweeping a disdainful gaze over me once more.
“You look like a lowlife,” she told me. “Your wedding outfit has already been made, and I’ll ensure your wardrobe has been updated to fit the newer court fashions. Ianthe will be arriving at the palace in the next few days, and the wedding is the following week. No point wasting any more time, hmm?”
My breath shuddered out of me in a rush. “Please—”
“I’ll see you in a week, dear.” She patted my cheek, gently but in warning, making me flinch again, then swept from the room accompanied by the last of her guards.
I still couldn’t move as I listened to the door closing, footsteps on the porch, car doors slamming shut, the rumble of engines. Lady Potato suddenly slunk out from under the TV unit and made her way over, purring loudly as she rubbed herself against my legs—something she only ever did when I was about to feed her. It was almost like she was trying to comfort me.
My eyes abruptly grew hot as I looked down at her. I would have to take her back to the adoption centre.
Because I already knew I was trapped. There was no way my mother wouldn’t follow through on all her threats if I didn’t do what she wanted, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to Holt or any of the others. Especially not Vince.
Vince.
The thought of my entire life, one I’d worked so hard to build for myself, crumbling into nothing around me was horrifying, but the realisation that I was going to lose Vince—lose whatever this thing between us was—made my chest feel like it was caving in on itself.
I had to go back. I had to marry someone I didn’t even know. Have children with her. Play the empty, bleak part of a prince and heir presumptive for decades and decades while my older brother ascended to the throne and carried out his reign until it was time for mine. I would be an old man by then. Simply a filler until I died and my younger children could take over and continue my mother’s bloodline in its long-running seat of power.
It was all mapped out before me. It had been since I was a young boy, when my older brother, Presius, had begun to realise that he was unable to have children, unable to have heirs of his own. Which meant it had fallen to me.
I’d tried to escape that fate, but now I realised I’d just been running in place for six years. I’d achieved nothing. There was no other life for me, and I’d been a fool for trying so hard to make a new one for myself.
My mother had won.