North Drake
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Book 1: Chapter 38: Her Own Path
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 14:41:11 +0000 UTCChapter 38:
Her Own Path
Liliana pulled her close without hesitation.
Grace didn’t resist. She didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe for a moment. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her with the kind of certainty that had no ceremony to it, not stiff, not royal. Just… there. Solid. Warm. Real.
Mother.
Not the Duchess. Not the war-mage. Just Liliana. And something cracked. Not loudly. Not all at once.
Just a hairline fracture that split down the middle of everything Grace had built around herself. The mask. The control. The towering wall of ego and fire and sharpened words, it wavered. Because this woman didn’t see the monster. She didn’t see the heir. She just saw her daughter.
And it broke her.
Inside her mind, a storm of thoughts clashed in silence. This was stupid. Shameful. Pathetic. She was five years old, and her body was betraying her again. The tears came before she even felt them, sliding down her cheeks in hot streaks, soaking into her mother’s armor.
I’m better than this.
I’m stronger than this.
What the fuck is happening to me.
But none of it stopped the crying.
She hated it. Hated the weakness. Hated the smallness. Hated that her throat made that tiny, trembling noise she couldn’t stop. But even as her mind screamed to pull away, her arms clung to Liliana’s neck and held on tighter.
She didn’t care. Not right now.
Because one thing rang louder than the rest, clearer than the Void, sharper than fear or rage or ambition.
This is my mother.
Not in name. Not in pretense. Not like the hollow parents she remembered from her old life, always too busy, too cold, too absent.
This was real. And Grace didn’t want to let go.
Liliana didn’t speak right away.
She simply held her. One arm wrapped beneath Grace’s knees, the other steady against her back, like the girl in her arms weighed nothing. Grace could feel the faint pulse of mana beneath the black armor, steady, endless, coiled like a living wall around her.
Then, softly, Liliana whispered against her temple.
“I’m glad you woke.”
Her voice didn’t tremble. Liliana didn’t tremble. But there was something in the way she said it, something slightly off rhythm, as if the words were being held together by force.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she continued. “That it wasn’t me who protected you.”
Grace blinked against her shoulder, breath catching. Her body still shook, but she was quiet now, trying to process what was being said. Liliana’s tone darkened, barely above a whisper.
“That you were guarded by incompetent fools.”
The words landed strange in Grace’s ears. Not because she didn’t agree, she totally did, but because of the cold finality in them. She pulled back slightly, still held in her mother’s arms.
“What…?” Then she looked up, past her.
At the doorway stood Elyne.
Not inside. Not with them. Just at the threshold, hands clasped, eyes lowered. Her cheek bore a fresh scar, precise, running just beneath the bone. Still red. Still healing.
She didn’t look at Grace. Didn’t say a word.
And Grace, even in her fragile state, understood something in that instant.
Something had changed. Grace didn’t speak at first. Her eyes locked on the scar. Thin. Fresh. Obvious. A mark that didn’t need explaining. Elyne stood there like a statue. Not defiant. Not ashamed. Just… still. Her head bowed, shoulders tense, fingers tight around the edge of her robe. She looked like she already knew what would happen.
And Grace did too. Liliana would punish her. If she hadn’t already.
Grace felt her throat tighten again. This is what I wanted, isn’t it?
She blinked, her grip loosening slightly on her mother’s armor. I wanted her to pay. To be held responsible. To feel like she failed me — because she did. And because she was a nuisance…
She looked again at Elyne, eyes narrowing.
But… Did she really fail me?
Grace chewed the inside of her cheek.
She hadn’t asked to be attacked. She hadn’t asked to be put in danger. But Elyne had been the one to fight. To protect. To bleed for her. And even if she hadn’t been fast enough, even if it hadn’t been perfect…
She was there.
And now?
Now she stood like a scolded mutt waiting to be kicked, like someone who cared too much to fight back. Grace turned her face slightly into her mother’s shoulder and exhaled through her nose.
This is annoying. I should enjoy this. I should let her suffer, make an example of her, reinforce control.
But the thought tasted sour.
She’s convenient. She knows me. She follows orders. She bends when she has to and backs down when she shouldn’t.
Grace pulled back slowly, just enough to look up at Liliana.
“Mother,” she said softly, then added, almost too quickly, “Don’t.”
Liliana looked down at her, silent, waiting. Grace turned her eyes back toward Elyne. “It wasn’t her fault.”
She hated how her voice shook slightly. Not from fear. Not from weakness. From conviction.
“She didn’t fail me.” Grace swallowed. Her voice was steadier now. Not louder. Just sharper.
“I gave the order,” she said. “To the knight. To hold the door. He followed it and didn’t let her in...”
She turned to look fully at Elyne now, eyes hard, but not cruel. “She was the one who stopped the first assassin. In the bakery.”
Her fists clenched at her sides.
She didn’t know.
The realization rang louder now than it had when Grace was alone.
She didn’t know Clara was the target. I didn’t either.
“She protected me,” Grace said, quieter now. “The second strike wasn’t meant for me. I stepped in.”
She bit the inside of her cheek.
Because I wanted to. Because it was Clara. Because no one else touches what’s mine.
“She couldn’t have predicted that,” she added. “No one could.”
She hated the way her chest felt, tight, hot, raw. But not from shame.
From control. From choosing not to destroy someone when she had the power to.
“She did everything right,” Grace finished. “So don’t punish her for it.”
She turned her face up toward Liliana again.
Liliana didn’t speak at first.
She looked down at Grace, eyes steady, not cold, but measured. Then, softly, something shifted in her expression. A faint softness. Almost imperceptible. Like she was remembering that the girl in front of her was five years old, even if she rarely acted like it.
“You’re still so young,” Liliana said quietly. “You don’t see how the world moves yet. Not all of it.”
Her hand moved gently, brushing a lock of hair from Grace’s cheek.
“But I won’t replace Elyne. Not now.”
Grace didn’t answer. Her chest rose and fell once, slowly.
“She may have failed twice,” Liliana continued, “but she also fought when it mattered. And she still stands.”
Liliana’s tone didn’t shift, but the weight behind her words settled like stone. “This is her last chance. She knows that. You should, too.”
Grace looked over toward the door again. Elyne still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t spoken. But her shoulders relaxed slightly.
“If you want her to stay,” Liliana said, voice low, “then listen to her. Use what she offers. There’s more competence in her than some would guess. And you’ll need that. Sooner than you think.”
Grace swallowed but gave a small nod. Barely visible.
Liliana smiled — faint, proud, tired.
She drew her in again, one last brief embrace, then carried her the short distance to the bed and laid her down as if Grace weighed nothing.
“Now,” she said, straightening her armor. “Tell me what happened yesterday in the estate.”
She turned her gaze toward the door, toward the stain that had been scrubbed from the floor but still felt present.
“And where,” she added calmly, “is the maid’s body?”
Grace sat up slightly on the bed, her eyes downcast but focused. Her fingers traced the edge of the blanket, slow and thoughtful, a gesture designed to appear small, uncertain. Inside, her mind was already sorting through the pieces. What to say. What to omit.
Liliana stood nearby, waiting. Not impatient, just quiet. Watching.
Grace exhaled.
“The maid’s name was Rina,” she began. “Assigned to me while I was unconscious.”
She didn’t add incompetent, but it was there, implied in the tone.
“She came into my room alone. I was just waking up. I didn’t say anything at first.” Her voice lowered. “She didn’t think I’d wake up at all.”
She paused, just long enough for Liliana to draw the correct conclusion.
“She started rummaging through my things. She took one of the brooches.”
Liliana said nothing, but her posture shifted, a flicker of disapproval, not aimed at Grace.
“I confronted her,” Grace continued. “She panicked. She ran. Tried to push past me.”
She tilted her head, face carefully composed.
“I stopped her.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.
“She hit her head when she fell. There was… a lot of blood.”
Liliana’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Grace didn’t blink. “She died before anyone arrived.”
She looked toward the cleaned floor, toward the space where it happened.
“I told one of the knights. He removed the body.”
That part was true, too, in its own way.
“I didn’t want anyone else touching my things,” she added softly, and her voice trembled just enough to pass.
Liliana nodded once. “Which knight?”
Grace hesitated for a fraction too long.
“One of the six assigned to me.” She finally said, without mentioning a name.
Liliana’s gaze held for a moment longer. Measuring. But she didn’t comment on this detail. Then she nodded again. “Very well.”
She remained still for a moment longer, gaze sweeping over her daughter, as if checking for something that couldn’t be seen. Then, softer than before, she asked, “And how are you, Grace? Truly.”
Grace tilted her head just slightly. Her fingers stilled on the blanket. “I’m alright now,” she said, voice small, practiced. “Just tired.”
That part wasn’t an act. Her bones still ached. Her core still hummed with the remains of something she couldn’t name. But the words came easily enough.
Then Liliana’s voice shifted, casual in tone, but never truly light.
“Would you like to come with me to the citadel? You’ve rested long enough. The air would do you good.”
Grace didn’t hesitate.
“No, Mama,” she said quickly, softly. “I want to stay here.”
She gave a little smile. “Clara and Elen are probably waiting. We were supposed to spend the day together.”
Play the five-year-old card. Just enough sugar to coat the teeth without cracking the enamel.
She let her voice stay light. “Besides… someone has to take care of the estate while you’re gone.”
Liliana raised a brow, amused. “Is that so?”
Grace nodded; hands folded in her lap now, perfectly composed. “Of course. Who else will do it? I’m the only Ashford left here. It’s my duty, right?”
Liliana laughed. A genuine, quiet laugh. Grace blinked, caught off guard by how warm it sounded.
“You shouldn’t try to grow up too fast,” Liliana said gently, brushing one of Grace’s curls aside. Her hand lingered for a moment, then dropped to rest against the edge of the bed. “But…”
She paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, her mind already shifting back to the language of decisions and consequences.
“If you coordinate with Elyne on all major decisions, I’ll allow it.”
Her voice was steady now, not indulgent, but precise.
“You’ll remain head of the household while I’m at the citadel. Day-to-day matters. Guest handling. Staff assignments. The final word on internal disputes.”
Grace’s heart skipped once, she kept her expression carefully composed.
“But no command over the guard. No foreign correspondence. And if anything concerning the Crown or the Church comes through that gate, you notify Elyne immediately. Do you understand?”
Grace nodded. Quickly. “Yes, Mama.”
Liliana’s tone softened again, just slightly. “You’re clever. No one doubts that. But this estate is still part of something larger, and I won’t risk it because my daughter got bored and decided to outmaneuver my steward.”
Grace blinked innocently. “I would never.”
Liliana actually smiled. “Mmm.”
She leaned in, kissed the top of Grace’s head.
“Don’t disappoint me,” she said.
“I won’t,” Grace whispered back.
And she meant it, every word. Not because she feared punishment.
Because Liliana was hers.
Liliana hugged her one last time, tighter than before, longer than necessary. Then she rose, adjusted her armor without a word, and gave Elyne a single nod. The governess hesitated, just for a breath, before following. Grace didn’t look at her. The knight at the door stepped aside, let them pass, then turned back and met Grace’s eyes with a quiet nod of respect. He closed the door without a sound. The room fell still again.
Grace sat motionless for a while, legs tucked beneath her on the bed, fingers curled into the blanket. Her eyes flicked toward the fireplace, then back to the door. The silence stayed, soft and heavy, not comforting, just present.
Her thoughts circled: Why was the attack aimed at Clara? Not her. Not the heir. That part still didn’t make sense. And Elyne… the scar fit her, honestly. Maybe it would finally knock that excessively good-humored tone out of her voice, gods forbid she smiled one more time like they were in a storybook and Grace would jump voluntarily into the void. The maid had it coming. Corax vanished like a coward for a few days, then came back half-dead and saved her anyway. And her mother — her mother — yes. She had a mother. And she was hers. When Liliana left, Grace could feel the strain of power pulling behind her like a shadow she might one day wear. But not enough. Not yet. She wasn’t in control. But she had taken a step. The first real one toward carving her own path. And no one would take anything from her again.
Grace slipped from the bed in one fluid motion, her feet touching the cold stone without a sound.
She didn’t hesitate. She crossed to the wardrobe, opened it, and pulled down the crimson dress, not the soft kind worn by little girls, but one cut in the formal style of Ashford’s bloodline. Velvet, sleeveless, edged in black. She stripped off her nightgown without thought and pulled the new garment over her head, smoothing it down with practiced hands.
Then she reached for the chain. A polished diamond, perfectly cut, gleamed at its centre — a gift from her mother on her last birthday. Grace clipped it around her neck, the stone settling just above her collarbone.
She sat, slid her feet into black leather shoes lined with red, and stood again.
She opened the door.
The knight outside stood straighter, eyes already on her.
Grace didn’t blink.
“We have much to do,” she said.
And then she stepped into the hall, no longer waking, no longer waiting.
But walking forward.
