Page 117 of Consort's Glory
Margot’s voice was surprisingly steady when she asked, “Why did you leave me there, then?”
A flash of pain and stark concern pulled the skin tight over Olivier’s cheekbones. “Were you mistreated in the Coven? Father was in contact, and we were assured you’d be treated no different from any other child. We thought—”
“No, I had a good life,” she interjected. “I was loved. I had everything I wanted. I got a good education and I grew up proud to be a witch.” A tremor entered her voice as she lifted her chin to finish, “But I grew up thinking that I was wrong. That someone would lock me up or— or worse for just being what I was. And I… and I would have done anything to know I was wanted by my mother. By any of you.”
Olivier was silent for several beats. Theodore wondered if, like him, he felt his heart tearing in his chest. If the wet sheen in his averted eyes was any indication, he thought so.
When he spoke, Olivier’s voice was a hard rasp of old pain. “Mother was… She was adamant that the only way you could grow up healthy was to be raised outside of the Protectorate.” He raked his claws through his hair. It was disturbing to see the icy, tightly controlled thorn in Theodore’s side so disheveled, off his guard.
“In some ways she was right. If you’d been raised in the household, you would never have had any freedom. You would have been kept out of sight and wrapped in cotton wool, never allowed to roam or live freely. You might have been contracted in a loveless union.” Theodore let loose a warning growl. Olivier scowled, allowing begrudgingly, “Or perhaps not. Either way, Mother was adamant that you should be raised by the Goodes. But if anyone in the upper tiers of the hierarchy were to discover you…”
Theodore leaned back into the sofa’s cushions, a bitter taste taking root in his mouth. “They would have reported your existence and removed you from their care, no matter what your mother wanted.”
She turned to blink big, wet eyes at him. “But why?”
“Because we’re dying, darling,” he gently reminded her. “Every elf, halfling or not, is too valuable to lose.”
“Mother’s greatest fear was that you wouldn’t get the chance to live.” Olivier’s voice was equally gentle, his sorrow shockingly open. “She was willing to sacrifice anything to secure that chance, even if it meant not being a part of your life.”
Margot shuddered. Circling her back with his arm, Theodore drew her in close as the tears came. Her voice was rough when she asked, “Where is she now?”
Olivier sighed, long and full of feeling. “She stays in our estate. The stress of the pregnancy, then giving you up… She was already unwell, but she got worse after that. These days, she is much happier when she stays inside her peaceful bubble.”
“O-oh.” Margot clutched his shirt. “Do you think she will want to see me someday?”
The chill returned to Olivier’s expression with frightening speed. Spearing Theodore with a hard look, he said, “I imagine she will demand it as soon as the news reaches her that you’ve been taken prisoner.”
Theodore blew out an astonished breath. “Back to this? Olivier, she’s my consort.”
“I don’t believe you.” His handsome face twisted in a sneer. “This would be just the sort of twisted scheme you would use to get revenge on us for our valid concerns over—”
Enough of this. Using his free hand, Theodore swiped hard at the chalk mark on his forehead, smearing it until the magic could no longer hold. Immediately, his skin prickled with intense relief.
“For Glory’s sake,” he exclaimed, gesturing to his forehead with a sharp twist of his wrist, “if she wasn’t my consort, do you think I would have married her?”
