The Debriefing. pt.2

Winter's POV:

"Derrick."

I narrow my eyes.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"The thing where you pretend not to be curious."

Mother's smile grows.

"I think I might like Derrick."

"Everyone likes Derrick."

"Exactly."

I roll my eyes.

"Anyway, he arrived."

"And?"

"And everything became significantly worse."

The smile disappears.

"Worse?"

I nod.

"You know those situations where two people insist they're perfectly civil while actively trying to murder each other with eye contact?"

Mother blinks.

"No."

"Well, that's basically been my life."

I think back to the breakfast with Derrick.

The training grounds.

The night with Derrick.

The endless tension.

The countless awkward conversations.

The looks.

Gods, the looks.

"There was one morning I had breakfast with Derrick and while he was talking on the other side of the garden Keon destroyed a punching bag."

Mother stares.

"A punching bag."

"Yes."

"While Derrick was talking."

"Yes."

She studies me carefully.

"Deliberately?"

"I have absolutely no proof."

"Winter."

"Probably."

Mother closes her eyes briefly.

I continue before she can comment.

"There are several incidents like this by the way."

She looks alarmed.

"There are several?"

"Unfortunately."

A sound suspiciously close to laughter escapes her.

I glare.

"This isn't funny."

"It absolutely is."

I sink lower beneath the blanket.

Mother continues looking far too entertained.

"The point is that the tension has been horrible."

"Between you and the Alpha?"

"No."

I pause.

Then correct myself.

"Well. Also that."

Mother looks pleased.

I hate that look.

"But mostly between Keon and Derrick."

That part is true.

Mostly.

At least it used to be.

The thought brings Sabrina's voice rushing briefly back into my mind.

You're getting attached.

I immediately push the memory away.

No.

Absolutely not.

We are not examining that today.

Mother notices my expression shift.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Winter."

"It was genuinely nothing."

She doesn't believe me.

I don't blame her.

The conversation continues anyway.

I tell her about Derrick.

About the letters.

About how patient he is.

How kind.

How easy he is to talk to.

How he somehow manages to stay calm no matter how ridiculous the situation becomes.

Mother listens quietly.

Occasionally nodding.

Occasionally asking questions.

Occasionally looking far too pleased.

Then the conversation drifts.

Naturally.

I should have known it would.

Toward the attacks.

The amusement leaves Mother's face immediately.

I explain the first attack.

The forest.

The fear.

The aftermath.

The investigation.

The changes to security.

The increased guard rotations.

The restrictions.

Everything.

By the time I'm finished, her expression has hardened considerably.

"And after that?"

I sigh.

"Keon became unbearable."

Mother looks intrigued.

"How?"

"Overprotective."

"Examples?"

I think about it.

There are far too many examples.

Honestly, I could probably write a book.

"Well, after the second—"

The words leave my mouth.

And the room freezes.

I freeze.

Mother freezes.

The silence arrives instantly.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh no.

My stomach drops.

I know that silence.

That is the silence of someone realizing they've just said something catastrophically stupid.

Mother sets her teacup down.

Very carefully.

"The second?"

I wish to disappear.

Immediately.

Preferably forever.

"Nothing."

"Winter."

"It was a figure of speech."

"You're a terrible liar."

I look away.

Mother waits.

I continue looking away.

The ceiling suddenly becomes fascinating.

Unfortunately, my mother has known me for twenty-three years.

She isn't fooled.

Not even slightly.

Eventually she sighs.

Not angry.

Not surprised.

Just disappointed.

"I knew."

My head snaps toward her.

"What?"

"I knew."

The room feels smaller.

"How?"

Her expression softens slightly.

"Winter."

I hate when she says my name like that.

"You think I couldn't tell?"

"Tell what?"

"That someone attacked you again."

The words hit me like a bucket of cold water.

For several seconds I just stare.

Because nobody knows.

Nobody.

Not Ariana.

Not the council.

Not the coven.

Nobody.

The only people who know are Keon, Rowan, the doctor and me.

So how—

Mother answers before I can ask.

"Your magic feels bruised."

I blink.

"What?"

"The damage is fresh."

My throat tightens.

She continues quietly.

"And significantly worse than the first attack."

I look away.

Because she's right.

Gods.

She's completely right.

The room falls silent again.

This time, Mother breaks it first.

"Why wasn't I told?"

There it is.

The anger.

Not directed at me.

Directed elsewhere.

I already know where.

"Mother—"

"No."

Her voice remains calm.

Which somehow makes it worse.

"You were attacked twice."

"There were reasons."

"Reasons."

"Yes."

"Good reasons?"

I hesitate.

Mother notices immediately.

"Oh dear."

I groan.

"It isn't like that."

"It sounds exactly like that."

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"He was trying to keep it quiet."

"Why?"

"Because if word got out, the palace would panic."

Mother's expression remains unimpressed.

I continue anyway.

"And because whoever did it is still here."

That gets her attention.

Immediately.

Her eyes sharpen.

"What?"

"Keon thinks the attacker is still somewhere inside the palace."

The room goes still.

Completely still.

Mother absorbs that information slowly.

Carefully.

Then she asks,

"And he still hasn't found them?"

I hesitate.

A mistake.

A terrible mistake.

Because Mother immediately notices.

Then says,

"Winter."

I sigh.

"He is trying."

Mother raises an eyebrow.

I realize what I just said.

Too late.

Far too late.

"And failing."

"That's not fair."

Silence.

I freeze.

Mother freezes.

Then very slowly, one eyebrow rises.

Higher.

And higher.

Oh no.

I know that look.

I know exactly that look.

The look that says she has caught something important.

Something I haven't.

"That's not fair?" she repeats.

I bury my face in my hands.

I hate everything.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Spectacularly."

My groan echoes through the room.

Mother looks far too pleased with herself.

Which is deeply unfair.

Because somehow, despite everything that happened over the last few weeks—

The attacks.

The nightmares.

The relics.

The politics.

The chaos.

The thing currently making me suffer most is my mother.

And judging by the smile slowly forming on her face—

She knows it too.