“Right,” my dad says, rubbing a callus on his left palm. His expression is heavy and he waits a beat, thinking something over. “Jo called me shortly before she died,” he says, and my heart nearly stops. “She said that no matter what happens, she didn’t regret what she did, that she got the bastard who killed your mother and that was enough.”

My eyes widen. So it was the Regent who killed my mom.

“And she told me that if something did happen to her, to tell you she loved you,” my dad continues, and I study my fingers, suddenly feeling very raw. “That she loved you and that in this whole dark world you were her bright star. She said she’d see you on the other side. She’d be the one in the red dress with the fabulous hair.” He smiles a sad smile at the memory of my feisty aunt.

And the grief I was suppressing, the grief that was too big to deal with at the Academy, backs up on me. It starts low in my chest, making my throat tighten and the bridge of my nose tingle, and when I look up at my dad, I lose control of it. My chin trembles and my eyes water. He reaches out to me and I bury myself in his arms, crying quietly against his shoulder. Tears for Aunt Jo, my mom, and Ines, for the fear that I would lose him, and for the countless deaths in these last few weeks. All of it pours out of me, hot and messy and unbridled, onto my dad’s shirt. And he strokes my hair and my back, telling me over and over that it’s going to be okay, that he loved her, too, that he’s sorry.

We’re like that for a long while, me curled against him like I used to when I was a little girl, safe in the confines of his hug. He doesn’t try to move away or get me to talk. He just waits. He waits until my breath slows and my chest stops heaving. I wipe at my face, suddenly exhausted, but also with a lightness I haven’t felt since before the Academy.

I exhale and sit up. “I want to be on board with this, I really do, especially if it’s something that you and Mom and Aunt Jo fought for. I just…It’s going to take me some time,” I admit, turning my mom’s ring on my finger.

“That’s entirely fair,” he says, his tone acknowledging the fact that I’m struggling with this. “You have lots of time to choose who you want to be. Even if you decide you never want to lead, that’s okay, too. I’m incredibly proud of the girl you already are.”