Chapter 18

“She’s better off asleep until the medicine kicks in,” Keilor explained in a business-like manner as he capped the vial of dream flower oil.

Rihlia was still pale, and Jayems touched her shoulder in concern. She knocked his hand away and turned her back on him. “I don’t want to see her.”

“Rihlia...” Jayems began, concerned. He hadn’t seen her this upset since before Jasmine arrived.

“My name is Wiley,” she snapped viciously, “And I won’t see her!” Her eyes took on a dangerous golden glint.

Undaunted, Jayems tried again. “She’s your mother,” he said, his body tense. “She’s waited almost twenty years for the chance...”

Wiley’s answering response raised the hair on the back of his neck. No one should say such things about their mother. Shocked momentarily dumb, Jayems watched her storm off and winced when she slammed the door to her room. There was a moment of silence.

Keilor touched his shoulder. “She didn’t mean it, surely,” he said quietly.

“How can I keep Lady Rhapsody from her own daughter?” Jayems asked in agony. “She’s done nothing to deserve this.” He began to pace.

“She’s coming here tonight, thinking she’s about to meet her beloved daughter, not confront a waking nightmare. This will kill her, Keilor.”

Keilor said nothing. Jayems spoke the truth. Better that her daughter had never been found than to be returned to her full of misplaced hatred. Worse, who could understand such loathing?

His gaze fell on Jasmine, and his eyes flared. “Our little gem,” he breathed, and grabbed Jayems. “What do you see?” he demanded, pointing to the unsuspecting girl.

Jayems frowned. “A menace, usually.”

“A girl,” Keilor paused significantly, “who knows Rihlia better than anyone alive. A confidant, a beloved friend. Someone with untold influence over your wife. And if need be, a bargaining chip.”

Jayems studied the girl. A slow, determined smile lifted his mouth. “Perhaps the girl might be of some use after all.”

***

Jasmine felt a great deal better when she woke up. Sure, her mouth felt like dryer lint and her head was fuzzy, but nothing hurt. She opened her eyes, feeling almost optimistic, and turned her head.

Jayems and Keilor were staring at her.

“What?” she asked defensively. She sat up. Keilor handed her a glass of cool water, and she gulped it down gratefully.

“Why does Rihlia hate her mother?” Jayems asked without warning, staring at her intently.

Caught off guard, she said the first thing that came to mind. “Wouldn’t you be mad at someone who dumped you in the woods and never came back?”

“That is not what happened!” Jayems snapped, making her jump.

Keilor touched his arm, but he didn’t look any happier. “We’ve told her that she was lost, not abandoned.”

Jasmine shrugged. “As if that matters to a child.”

“She’s no longer a child,” Jayems argued, looking like he wanted to jump up and pace.

She looked at him for a long moment. “Wiley never knew her mother growing up. Emotionally, when she thinks of her, it’s with the feelings of a small child. She’s stuck in a time warp, with no frame of reference to deal with the woman as an adult.” Her thoughts turned inward. “You just don’t erase all that in a day,” she finished softly.

“How can I do that if she won’t even talk to her?” Jayems demanded. “How can she learn to get over this if she keeps running away?”

Jasmine was silent. Mothers weren’t a topic she cared to dwell on. Her own hurts were infected, painful wounds, and she didn’t care to probe the hurts of others, especially Wiley’s. Still, it was different, wasn’t it? Wiley’s mother wasn’t going to drive her off.

Wiley’s mother wanted her.

Feeling a little sick, she wandered over and gripped the back of a kitchen chair, very tight. Wiley’s mother wanted her, and why wouldn’t she?

Wiley was a wonderful person. Anyone would be glad to have her for a daughter. And deep down, past the pain and the fear of rejection, Jasmine believed Wiley wanted to know her mother, too; needed to know her.

She walked over to the bedroom and knocked on the door. “Wiley.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm.

There was a rustling noise inside. “I know you can hear me, long ears.” No response. Jasmine slumped against the door, feeling ninety years old. She braced one palm against it and rested her head against the wood. She felt so tired. “You’re going to see your mother, Wiley, because you’re not a coward. If you need to hate her, at least have the decency to call her a bitch to her face.”

A growl came from Jayems’ direction, but she ignored it. Eyes closed, she said hollowly, “I’d do it for you, Wi, but dealing with one mother in a lifetime is all I have the energy for. Just get it over with.” Utterly drained, she shuffled off to her room; not caring as much as she should’ve that others saw her weakness.

Two hours later, she cared.

Keilor found her wedged in a corner behind a wing chair in her darkened room. She was curled on a cushion, nursing her sense of worthlessness.

He’d feared something like this, but a sense of self-preservation and the need to keep Jayems from storming into his wife’s room had stopped him from following her. Kisses were one thing, but he was not ready for emotional intimacy with her, now or ever.

The sight of her so broken pained him in frightening ways. To preserve his distance and to maintain control, he responded with callousness.

After all, it had worked so well on Rihlia.

“Lights.” He folded his hands behind his back and regarded her with a cool stare. “It appears your tactics were successful, charmer. My cousin has agreed to dine with her mother this evening. She is selecting a dress as we speak, and she wishes you to come and choose your own.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not my mother.”

“I see. You’re content to prod her into facing her demons, but too cowardly to stand at her side?” He watched with satisfaction as her lip curled.

She stood up slowly, one hand braced against the wall as if to hold her back from kicking him. “I did this once, and by myself,” she told him defiantly, before her eyes clouded. “Wiley’s an adult, and she doesn’t need me to hold her hand.”