Disgust curled through Clare. Madeline was treating them as something even less than pets. And they seemed to adore her for it.
“Why am I here?”
Clare dreaded the answer, but none came. Madeline’s thin, bloodless lips curved into a smile. She continued to pace, a hint of satisfaction shining in her eyes, content to let the silence stretch. Clare had the distinct impression that they were waiting for something. She tried a different question.
“You must have been outside the forest when you changed.” She knew she was reaching, but Clare needed to know if Madeline remembered what had happened to twist her so viciously. “You were travelling to Gould, right? You and the rest of your family.”
Madeline’s face tightened, and for a moment, her drooping lower lids twitched. “You are right. The car stopped. They had instructions to travel without break, so I opened my door to understand why I had been disobeyed, and I heard them screaming.”
“Who?”
“The others.” Her hand flicked out in a dismissive wave. “My family. And the servants in the bus. They were going wild. Clawing at their own faces as though they were animals. Biting at each other. It was all I could do to gather my maids and lead them home.”
Another of the creatures quivered as Madeline passed. She was circling the dais. What for, Clare couldn’t tell.
“Did you see or feel anything?” Clare cleared her throat at Madeline’s sharp glare. “When you changed, what happened?”
“The air.” Her expression grew distant. “It was sour. Oh, it burned when it was swallowed. How my darlings screamed. But it made us strong. It made us able to endure…”
Wax was dripping over the edge of the candle. It trickled over the woman’s many fingers, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Whatever it was, it dulled their nerves.
Madeline saw her staring. A hint of a smile ghosted over her pale lips. She reached out and overturned the candle.
Clare was too slow to react. She screamed as burning wax splattered over her neck. Her headache flamed up, scorching like an inferno, as she hit her head on the dais, fingers clawing in an effort to scrape off the wax.
Madeline laughed. It was a gentle, fluttering noise, like something Clare might have heard at a dinner party. “Oh, you are delightful. You look so sad and helpless when you are in pain. It is no wonder my son took a liking to you.”
Tears blurred Clare’s eyes. She hunched over, gasping, fingers shaking as the fresh wax hardened over them.
Madeline leaned down to stare into Clare’s face. Her spine didn’t move naturally. The upper back remained straight as she twisted at the waist, creating the impression of an insect bending its thorax. “Oh yes, I know. I saw him carry you back into the house. I listened to him talk to you while you were asleep. You have done a pretty job of seducing him.”
Clare squinted her eyes to see through the pain. “Leave him alone.”
“So opinionated, so small-minded.” Madeline sighed delicately as she returned to pacing. “He is the last of his family now that the others have been lost. My only child. My love, my pride.”
Clare had plenty of words she wanted to spit at the creature, but the burns on her throat still throbbed, and the candle flickered threateningly. She bit her tongue.
“He was so sweet when he was little. I would hold him close and shush his tears as I picked the scabs open. In the evenings, he would sit quietly and let me poke sewing needles into his back as long as I kissed him and told him I loved him.”
Clare closed her eyes as nausea choked her. Oh, Dorran. What hell did she put you through?
“It is my fault he has gone astray. In my love, I allowed him to grow wilful and proud.” Madeline lifted her chin to stare at the ceiling. “As he grew older, he became hardened. He no longer seeks his mother’s love or listens to her guidance. Spoiled, proud, wilful. I gave him everything, and in return, he shows nothing but disdain.”
Liar. Proud and spoiled were two concepts so far removed from Dorran that Clare’s mind struggled to connect them. He was kind, gentle, and patient. But apparently those weren’t traits Madeline valued.
“You have never had children, I suppose.” Madeline’s exhale rasped over a dry tongue. “You cannot understand. A mother’s love is infinite. You would do anything to save your child. Even when he scorns you. Even when the future you sweated and bled and sacrificed to build is hurled back into your face.”
“Are you talking about this?” Clare, unable to stay silent any longer, raised her burnt hand to gesture around them. “A life spent trapped in this house? The last scraps of a wasted fortune? The honour of a family name no one remembers anymore?”
Madeline’s glance was cold. “A history. A legacy. Being born to the Morthorne bloodline is an honour I cannot expect you to understand.”
The words left Clare before she could stop them. “At least I understand basic human decency.”
Madeline’s eyebrows rose. Then she exhaled a fluttering laugh. “You are impertinent. I should have your tongue cut out. But I suppose that would compromise your purpose.”
Dread rose in Clare’s stomach, cold and sticky. “My purpose?”
Madeline’s long fingers flicked, as though waving the question aside. She turned to face the wall opposite them.
Clare’s fingers still stung under the hardened wax. She shot a glance at her ankle. The wax wasn’t a perfect grease, but it was oily enough to help. She pulled her legs up to her chest, hoping it would look like she was simply curled from cold or fear, and squirmed one of her burnt fingers under the metal.
“I wanted to let you go, you know.” Madeline’s hand twitched around her throat, adjusting the collar. “It was not your fault you were brought into our house. You would have been permitted to leave my estate unharmed. But you relinquished that privilege the day you set your sights on my son. Evidently, he does not have much resistance against a pair of pretty eyes. You have been leading him astray, reinforcing his arrogance, encouraging his selfishness. And now I will require you to be a part of his education.”
Clare paused her work to glance up. “Education?”
“I was forced to teach him a lesson many years ago.” She faced away, her chin lifted high as the clawlike protrusions at her stomach twitched. “It was a difficult lesson, one about priorities and loyalty. It took many of my family to make the point, but it was worth it. He began to value his mother’s guidance again.”
The cyanide in the wine. Clare swallowed the words that wanted to crawl out of her and continued fighting with her shackle. One of the chain links clinked, but Madeline didn’t seem to notice.
“It appears he has forgotten those learned morals in spite of the care put into them and the price that was paid. Now he will have to learn again.” Madeline looked over her shoulder and smiled delicately at Clare. “He loves you. He is coming to look for you. I will allow him to see you one final time. And then he will watch you die.”
Clare kept her body curled around the shackle. She had finished smearing the wax across the metal and quietly, subtly tried to squirm it over her foot. It was still too tight. The chattering was growing louder as the hollow ones scurried through the room. They were becoming excited. Clare prayed it wasn’t a sign that Dorran was near. She needed more time. “Dorran won’t be the heir you want, no matter what you do to me.”
“Oh, you are wrong there, child. He is not quite broken yet, but he will be after today.” She sighed and pressed a hand over her breast. “This body… it is strong. It is a gift. But I know my son will not see it that way. He will use it as an excuse to be repulsed, to reject me, if he can. That is why we hid, biding our time, waiting until he would be ready, until grief broke him enough to be malleable again.”