Linden takes a step towards me, and I scuttle back. I could pretend I’m not afraid of her, but I’m ready to fold like a cheap paper fan. Meanwhile, she looks prepared to tip me into a pot and then enjoy me with a nice glass of wine. Or maybe a goblet sloshing with my blood, her chin dripping with my soul.

“Your entire family is responsible,” she hisses. “She tricked him. Used him. And then destroyed him.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t know what to say. That might all be true. It might not be. Everyone accuses my grandmother for what happened, but how much of a role did Wolf play in their downfall? It’s curious that everyone blames her.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I am sorry. I’m sorry for everything that happened. That I never had the chance to know them. That we spent our lives in hiding. I’m sorry for every single day and every person Serce hurt, even if I wasn’t directly responsible for any of it.

“Linden,” Cyan says, interrupting our tense exchange. “You can’t blame the girl for Serce’s mistakes.”

“I can,” Linden says, whipping around to face him. “I will.”

Cyan presses his mouth together as his nose flares. “Come and sit,” he says, patting the table next to him. “Have something to drink.”

Linden grunts but drops into the seat next to him. Holding an ornate crystal decanter, Anemone leans across and fills a glass that she hands to Linden. Linden then drains the entire thing before slamming the glass on the table hard enough to nearly crack it.

The table, I mean. The glass is toast.

“Another,” she barks as she grabs a new glass, and Anemone fills this one too. Cyan takes Linden’s hand and squeezes it before he flips it over and places a soft kiss on her palm. No one else blinks at the intimate gesture between the king and his army commander.

After Linden destroys another stiff drink, everyone’s gaze falls on me. I swallow as the silence stretches awkwardly. I wasn’t expecting the red carpet upon my arrival, but I also wasn’t prepared to be accused of a litany of crimes I never committed.

I remember when I voiced these fears to Nadir and he said no one would hold me accountable for what my grandmother had done. I’m not happy to prove him wrong. I should probably get used to this, though perhaps Linden has more right to feel this way than most.

Anemone rises from her place on Cyan’s lap and moves to the chair on his other side. Not wanting to be anywhere near Linden, who’s still staring at me like she’s trying to decide which part of me to stab first, I move around the table to take the empty seat next to Anemone.