Consuming Shadows

Chapter 31

Hadrian clicked his mouth shut.

He wanted to close his eyes the moment the word – the admittance, the acknowledgement of his mistakes – slipped loose. But no matter how desperately he tried, he could not drag his gaze away from his mother.

There was something interminably fascinating about seeing the flickers of emotion cross her face as she registered what he had said. It was like watching cracks snake through a piece of glass, hairline fractures foretelling the impending break.

Hadrian could only stare raptly as her expression faltered, blanked, and then was overtaken by a violent red flush.

He expected anger. He expected her voice to rise like a storm. He expected her to scream and shout.

He did not expect the sheer disappointment that frosted over her eyes.

And, somehow, that upset him more than any words ever could.

Her jaw clenched, and Hadrian felt an invisible hand reach up and crush his throat when she turned her head away from him in a harsh jerk, as if she could not even bear to look at him.

Gods, why did she always know the best way to hurt him?

His chest ached.

"Maman -"

Her hand shot up, and whatever he was about to say withered and died on his tongue. He bit his lip instead, biting back the incessant desire to explain and justify.

She still would not look at him.

"How long?" She asked softly, her voice steel. Her gaze stayed on some point over his shoulder – refusing to look at him. "How long have you known?" How long have you been keeping this from me? he heard in its place.

Hadrian's fingers tapped against his thigh before he forced them to curl listlessly at his sides. He licked his bottom lip and let his mind whirl.

What could he even say? The threat against her life was still painfully real, and rang in his ears, Riddle's voice coiling through his head. How much could he tell her? Everything? Nothing?

"Since the first task." He said slowly, swallowing and observing her for the slightest of changes.

Other than the spark of potent rage in her eyes she remained unmoved. "That long?" She asked, flat and lifeless, a carefully constructed mask to hide what she was really feeling.

Hadrian dipped his head, hardly daring to move an inch. His eyes stayed glued to her no matter how much he wished to hide from this. "Yes."

Her lips pressed together until they were a harsh white line cutting through her features. "And you didn't tell me." She stated, ruthlessly frank and accusatory. Her next breath was heavy. "Does he know that you know?"

Again, Hadrian could do nothing except nod, guilt churning in his stomach. The gleam of displeasure on her face had him bursting, desperate to fix. "He threatened you. I -" his hands raised, gesturing futilely. "I couldn't risk it. Telling you would have..." He cut off.

"And once she is reduced to little more than a bloody stump, I will enter her mind, and I will make her witness the death of her husband again and again and again, until she is nothing but blubbering mess. Then, and only then will I return her to you, so you can see what your own disobedience led to."

"I couldn't risk it." He repeated dumbly, words failing him so utterly that he could do nothing more than stare at her.

His mother tilted her jaw away from him, dismissive. Her green eyes cast unseeingly somewhere on the ground between them, and Hadrian clenched his fists, praying that she would understand.