“No.” He hadn’t added a sweetener to his tea in years.
“Very well.” She placed the cup in a saucer before him and continued to stir her own, her movements slow and methodical. “I would like to apologize to you, Solarius. Not only for my behavior yesterday, but over the course of the past few years. I fear I have not been the mother you and your siblings deserve, as I’ve never quite been the same since your father died.”
Solarius gripped the porcelain so tightly he thought for sure it would shatter. He downed the hot liquid in one long dredge, taking comfort in the way it scalded his throat, its bitterness coating his tongue. Of course, Trysta would find a way to blame her behavior on his dead father. She would never admit her actions were of her own accord, that she was selfish in nature.Her accountability was abysmal. No, she would rather fault her actions on the death of a male she hardly loved.
“Let me guess,” Solarius drawled, leaning back in the rigid chair. “You lost part of yourself when he died.”
His sarcasm was thick, but she cut through it, her own words like a serrated blade freshly pulled from a forge.
“On the contrary, my dear. I was made whole when that bastard died. It was like I was renewed. An awakening, if you will.” Trysta placed her teacup on the table, canted her head to one side, and the world tipped on its axis.
Solarius blinked, struggling to focus on the harsh, mocking lines of her face. The colors of her sitting room blurred together, as though they were a wet painted canvas smeared in oil. Beads of sweat broke out along his forehead and a heated flush crept up his chest. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow, his gaze drifting to the hearth, where the fire had been snuffed out. His blood churned and the empty teacup slid from his hand, tumbling onto the thin rug. He watched it fall, his reflexes too slow, too sluggish to catch it before it shattered.
He knew this feeling, recognized this sensation.
For a while, he’d relished the rush of intoxication. But not anymore.
“What have you done?” he asked, his words slurring together in a string of incoherence.
Through bleary eyes he blinked, watching as Trysta dumped the bottle of rum into the teapot.
“Right now, you’re likely feeling the effects of the amberwood and moon seeds. It’s a lovely blend, you see. Capable of producing the effects of mild drunkenness in a matter of seconds.” She left the empty bottle and cap on the table before him and when she stood, he slid toward the ground to go after her. “Though, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to drink the entire thing in one sitting.”
His mother chuckled then, a wicked sort of cackle. “I doubt you’ll be conscious much longer, though that only bodes well in my favor.”
Solarius toppled out of the chair, grasping at the cloth fabric in an effort to haul himself to his feet. But his body wouldn’t work. It was as though his mind was demanding a reaction, yet there was too much of a delay. His head lolled from one side to the other, he could barely feel his legs, and he was no longer sure if he was sitting up or lying down. He opened his mouth to speak but the words were merely nonsensical gibberish.
His tongue felt thick. His throat dry. His mouth was like paper.
“You know…” Trysta’s voice sounded from somewhere above him, but looking for her was like trying to find the constellations on a cloudy night. Everything was dark and murky. Almost invisible. “I would claim that my morals kept me from killing my own offspring. I suppose in some way I was slightly against it, though not completely opposed. I never wanted so many fucking children, but your father insisted we have a large brood to carry on thebelovedStarstorm name.”
Even through the haze of forced inebriation, Solarius could hear the absolute disdain when she spoke.
“I imagine he suspected me after some time. Much like your wife, I’ve had quite the penchant for potions and tonics. It’s only been a matter of finding the right ingredients. And Narissa, bless her, always had exactly what I was looking for.” Trysta made a sort oftsk-ing noise and Solarius blinked, his vision caving in from both sides. “In a way, I suppose she’s the one to blame for his death. After all, the deadly honeysting came from her garden.”
Her footfalls sounded distant, more obscure than before, and he recognized the creaking of the door to her sitting room.
“But don’t worry, my darling. Mother will be sure your sweet little siren pays for her crimes.”
A cavernous, guttural growl erupted from Solarius as he crawled toward the door. He clawed at the carpet, his fingers biting into the stiff fibers, but it felt as though he was being crushed beneath the weight of a thousand boulders. He had to get to Narissa. To warn her. To save her. Again, his vision ebbed, and this time the world went with it. Solarius collapsed onto the ground as the snick of a lock clicked into place, and he tumbled headfirst into the pitch of despair.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Narissa was trying to contain her bubbling anger.
Twenty minutes.
It was twenty minutes past the hour and Solarius was nowhere to be found. The coach would be arriving any moment to carry them to House Galefell and if he didn’t hurry, they would be late. Either that, or she would be forced to go without him. She knew she should have reminded him this morning or at least gone to check on him—she hadn’t seen him since he disappeared after breakfast, claiming he had to go look for something. Then he’d never returned.
She bit back on the urge to expel a most unladylike sigh.
If she was in her own company, she might have cursed his name. But alas, Sarelle had opted to join her while she waited for him, and though she was furious, Narissa refused to belittle him in front of his family. No matter how deserving of it he might be.
She paced the grand hall of House Celestine, her heels clicking softly against the dazzling Faerie Star inlaid in the center of the floor. Every so often she would twist her fingers together in a show of nerves, then pretend to smooth the pleats of her gown instead. At the slightest noise, her gaze darted up tothe length of hall stretching between the two curving staircases, but Solarius failed to appear.
Impatience gnawed at her and the gruff snorts and whinny of Eponians in the distance warned her she was running out of time.
Narissa knew Solarius was still somewhere within House Celestine. The bond continued its lazy hum, but each time she reached for him, she was answered with placid silence. Granted, she could have gone in search of him, but breaking tides, she was not his keeper. He was a lord of Aeramere, and he should’ve been more than capable of managing his time without her assistance. It wasn’t her duty to remind of him of when he should be where or ensure he wasn’t tardy. Besides, he was blatantly ignoring her at this point. If he truly cared about her traveling to House Galefell on her own, then he would’ve shown up for her as promised.
