The Queen of Monsters

Chapter 22

"You arrested our daughter!" her mother said.

"It was a political sacrifice; the only logical choice. Don't concern yourself with things you don't understand."

"Oh, I understand, Colm. I've always understood. Why you're locking her away-- why you insisted on marrying her off to that insufferable Reid boy. I just don't agree," Moyra said.

Ciara frowned. She thought that her mother was the main supporter of her marriage to Reid, always cooing on about ancient blessings and how fierce their children would be. Her father was the solid one, hiding sympathy in his quiet smiles and words of comfort. But Reid had always been the most politically advantageous choice, and her father was the one to make the politically advantageous choices for the rest of them.

"Every thing I have done-- everything I have ever done-- has been for this family! To protect her, and to protect you. I started a war for her!"

Moyra laughed. "Oh, yes," she said. "Because you have absolutely no desire for a throne..."

"Because I love our daughter!"

"I know," her mother said. "Which is why it's such a shame you love yourself more."

"You're the one that insisted she be protected," the General said. "That we keep her away from all this. That's what I'm doing, Moyra. I'm not proud of what I've done. But she's safe now. From the armies, and the soldiers, even from herself."

"Protected does not mean imprisoned! You have failed as a father!"

The general lost his composure for the first time in their conversation. "And you have failed as a wife!" he yelled. "One child, Moyra. One girl child."

Her mother's voice grew dangerously low, and Ciara had to strain to catch that last whispered curse. "A girl who can topple powerful men."

"Was that a threat, Moyra?"

"No," her mother said, all cloying sweetness and perfect composure. "A warning, nothing more."

Ciara heard the distant sound of footsteps retreating, and the slamming of a door somewhere.

"Moyra!" the General screamed. "Moyra, come back here! You would do well to watch your tongue!" But, as far as Ciara's blind ears could tell, her mother did neither.

A low curse, and her father's footfalls slunk closer to her prison. He can't know I was listening.

Ciara sprang back from the door, throwing herself into the satin sheets of her bed and folding her legs as if she had been there for a long while. Her father's keys jangled loudly as he worked to unlock the door, and Ciara frowned. Are there multiple keys? She wouldn't have been surprised. It seemed everything in Connal's Keep had several gates. It was a twisted labyrinth of secrets, and Nessa's promise echoed through Ciara's head. No one gets in. Or out.

Ciara fixated her gaze on the wall as her father entered. She would not dignify him with a reaction, and she stared at the white roses painted on her wall instead.

"I brought you breakfast," the General said. "There's honey-porridge, and I had the chefs make your favor--"

"I'm not hungry." She counted the petals on the rose to focus her mind away from the fury and betrayal that threatened to well up behind her eyes. Her father set the breakfast tray down with a heavy, metallic thud. He must have overladen it with sweets and delicacies, and Ciara almost laughed. He can't honestly think that some cherry scones will mend the wall between us?

"Ciara, darling, I am so sorry. I did what I had to in order to save my reputation in front of my men, but please don't think I have no regrets-- Ciara, look at me."