“What about your brother?”

“Poor bastard’s taking care of his mother.”

She noted the fact that he didn’t refer to Natale as his mother. “And she is…?”

“At the Summer Palace.”

Zarya frowned at that. It didn’t make sense. His brother and sister… Okay, there were times when she couldn’t be there for Sorche.

But a mother?

“Why isn’t she here? Is she ill?”

When he spoke, the raw anger in his voice chilled her. “No. I don’t want her here.”

“Whyever not?”

“I don’t want to see the way she refuses to look at me, okay?”

“I don’t understand.”

He sighed wearily. “Be glad you don’t. My mother doesn’t mean to be selfish. She just always had a man to protect and care for her, a staff of servants to cater to her every whim, and a nurse or tutor to care for us. She doesn’t know what to do when she’s supposed to be the caregiver—other than delegate it to someone else. It’s hard for her to think about other people.”

“But you’re her son.”

“I know. I love my mother and I hate her guts. I guess that’s my curse. To only want women who put me through hell.”

That stung her like a slap in the face, but she forced her own anger down. “I didn’t hurt you intentionally.”

“My mother doesn’t believe she does either. She thinks she’s a great, loving mother who has done nothing but sacrifice her life for us. One who does her best and only tells us what we need to hear.” Sliding the cloth to his neck, he returned the frame to his nightstand. His eyes were empty as he turned the power off and lay back against the pillows.

Zarya glanced around the elegant room that held no other personal items of his in it. Nothing. No childhood mementos of any kind. No other pictures.

Not even a hairbrush.

She scowled at that realization. Did he not have them or did he not want them?

Her gaze went to the scars that marred him from head to toe. While many were new, a lot of them weren’t. Never in her wildest imaginings would she have thought an aristo would be damaged like this. Her parents had been nothing but kind and protective of them. They’d have killed anyone who dared raise a hand to her or any of her siblings.

Yet Darling’s own uncle had caused many of those scars. Meanwhile, his mother had allowed the abuse to go on for years without stopping it. “Have you ever had anyone protect you?”

His eyes closed, he brushed the cloth against his ravaged cheek. “Nero. Nykyrian. Caillen. Hauk. Maris. Jayne and Syn.”

She paused as she realized that list corresponded to the number of people who’d come into the room after she’d discovered Darling’s presence. “They’re the ones who rescued you?”

He nodded.

“How long have you known them?”

“Nero all my life. He swears he’s the reason I was named Darling, and if he really was, I’d like to kick his ass for it. Gah, what a stupid name. I can’t believe my parents couldn’t find something better… like Dogshit or Dumbass.”