Cinders [Completed]

Chapter 34: Mother Mother

//trigger warning//

That morning, I put on the mating blade. I didn't wear it yesterday because I was openly moving around the Palace, and, obviously, we want to keep the whole mate thing under wraps for two more days.

Just two more days.

As we approach the announcement, my fears get more vivid. The people will hate me. When they hear that I'm stunted they'll stage a revolution. They'll destroy Orion's reputation and decimate the Royal name.

Today, I secure the blade on my hip because I feel too naked without it.

I wake up at 4:30. When I had first arrived at the palace, injured and stuck in the medical wing, my sleep schedule was disturbed for the first time in months. After I was healed, I couldn't find myself getting more than a few hours of sleep. I would toss, awake, in my bed, too used to staying up late and waking up early to keep up with chores. I find myself wishing that - well, that Orion was sleeping in the bed with me.

At 5, I give up and get out of bed. I'm careful with my sprained ankle, wondering if Orion can still feel it. For the thousandth time, I wish for better healing.

I should be mentally reviewing what I learned yesterday - the silverware settings at a formal event (3 forks alone) - but instead, I'm thinking about the clothes. I stand up carefully and move towards the closet. There's a day dress that is elegant and blue. I feel the fancy fabric between my fingers.

Thrift shops for a decade. Donation centers. And - Lucy. Nothing for Lucy.  Where was Dad's money going? There's so much about him I still don't know. Maybe -

The thought returns to my mind in a tsunami. Maybe he knows what happened to Elia. I remember the look in Alpha and Luna Dixon's eyes, when Orion has talked to them, weeks ago, about their daughter's death. Guilt. I wonder, if I went to talk to Dad, if he would have that same expression at Elia's name.

The idea of even looking at dad, however, makes something nauseous swell up in my stomach. So instead, I do the next best thing.

I have something I need to tell her, anyway.

I'm still limping on my sprained ankle, but it's wrapped well and I can get around without a crutch, so I do.

Lucy catches me on the way.

"Are you going to see Mom?" she calls out behind me.

She couldn't sleep either. I turn around. She's already dressed for the day. I'm strangely anxious about seeing Mom again, so I just nod, mute.

"Can I come?"

Mom's door isn't too far from Lucy's, but it's been a long time since I've been there. I haven't seen Mom since the trial - that moment, in front of the courthouse.

We knock. There's no reply. Lucy looks at me anxiously.

After a second of pause, I open the door.

And there she is. Sitting on her bed, stuff as a board, hands folded quietly in her lap, like a statue. I can imagine her, done up in bronze, decorating a park bench.

"Mom."

My voice cracks terribly on the word. I clear my throat.

"Mom, I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me if Dad ever mentioned - if Dad knew anything about Elia's death."

Her reply comes quick, short and furious.

"Don't talk about him."

Lucy shifts on her crutches. I swallow. "Mom," I plead, "he didn't love us. Not really."