"I'm the king," I said and narrowed my eyes at Dreki.

"You're the king on our good graces, Your Highness," he hissed back and slammed his hand down on the document. "Sign the fucking document, Quinn."

"No. Public executions are disgusting, and you know it."

"Do I? I'm bringing back good old Andaheim traditions. You should be happy. This is your culture, right here." He smirked at me from the opposite side of the table.

"Do you want me to bring back Bursaaq culture too? What was it... Oh yeah, kill all the unclean. I guess genocide is genetic for you."

Dreki clenched his hands, red colour splashing over his cheeks. There was hate in his black eyes and I revelled in it.

"How about we make a trade?" he asked with an eerily calm voice.

"You have nothing I want."

"I don't think that's true, Quinn. I know where your mother is. I'll give her to you in exchange for your signatures."

Blood drained from my face and my back dumped against the backrest of my chair. My eyes widened and everything just stilled in my head.

"W-what?"

"You heard me."

"My... Mum?"

"I'm not gonna repeat myself. Do you accept the deal?"

My mother. She was a foreign concept to me. Something I had pushed so far down, I never allowed myself to think of her. Of what she was doing. How she was doing. Was she alright? What would she think of me if she met me now?

I looked down at the paper, it all blurring. I signed it and dropped the pen on the table.

"You should remember to thank you fiancé. He was the one who found her."

I rose to my feet, feeling completely blank. There was nothing in me as I walked out of the room. Islo had found her. He knew they were looking for her. And he didn't tell me. I had told him to not keep secrets but yet, he did. He kept doing it and I couldn't handle another secret.

With each step I took towards our chambers, the more rage fuelled up in me. I tore open the door, almost tearing it off its hinges.

Islo looked up from his book, soft jazz playing in the background.

"Quinn? You alright?"

"You found her?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"What are you talking about?" He put the book down and rose to his feet slowly.

"My mother. You found her? Without telling me?" Tears unhooked themselves from my eyes and trailed down my cheeks.

He looked down at the floor and nodded. "Dreki told me to. And not to tell you."

"Why? I told you not to keep things from me anymore. How can I ever trust you again? You keep lying to me!" I screamed the last part.

He hesitantly met my gaze. "I couldn't tell you, because he threatened Isla."

"I could've kept it secret, Islo! You keep treating me like a child." I could feel that surge of power rush through me and I wanted to release it. I wanted to destroy something. The cups on the coffee table started shaking and Islo's eyes widened before he looked back at me.

"You know I can't put Isla in danger, Quinn. Take a deep breath."

"Stop patronising me!" I roared and the glasses exploded. "I'm more powerful than anyone here and everyone keeps treating me like a child!"

Individual glass diamonds started bursting in the chandelier. Islo came closer very slowly, his hands reaching for me.

"Quinn, please. Listen to me. They threatened my little girl."

"Are you with me because they threatened her? Is that all this is to you? A way to secure Isla's safety? Do I mean nothing?" I took a step back so he wouldn't touch me.

"No, of course not. Quinn, I love you. Please." He lowered himself to his knees in front of me. I pressed my back to the wall, still not wanting him to touch me.

He was lying. Everyone were lying to me all the time, trying to control me and I couldn't do it anymore.

The chandelier burst completely and dropped down on the floor, maybe one or two metres from Islo and me.

He didn't take his eyes off me, even though he flinched. "Quinn, look at me."

I met his gaze, panting hard. They were so green, his eyes. As green as the leaves on the trees in the garden during spring.

He's going to kill me.

I heard his voice loud and clear and I widened my eyes. I looked down at my hands and opened them.

I love him.

"Shut up!" I screamed and jerked back, pressing my hands to my ears. "Please shut up!" I grabbed my hair and started pulling on it.

"Quinn." He was on his feet and grabbed me, pressing me to him.

"Let go! Don't touch me!" I screamed but he didn't budge. He pressed me to his chest, preventing me from tearing my hair out. I needed to hurt myself. I needed to get the voices to stop. I wasn't going mad. I wasn't going mad. I wasn't going mad.

"Listen to me," he murmured softly. "I love you. I'm right here with you. Always."

"Please," I cried. "Don't touch me. Please, get off!"

Islo was pulled off me and pushed away from me without me even touching him. Without anyone touching him.

I crouched down, slamming my fists against my head. I could feel Aki hitting me. I could feel my stepmother's scalding gaze, filled with disgust when she caught my father in my room. I could hear her scream at him, and I wanted it all to stop. I wanted it to stop. I couldn't do this anymore.

Islo was back at my side and very gently grabbed my wrists. It took him no effort to get me to stop. I looked up meeting his gaze.

"I'm losing my mind," I cried.

"I won't let you," he said softly and pulled me into his lap, sitting down on the floor with me. He put his hand on top of my head but didn't move his fingers. And then he guided my body to rest against his. "It's alright, Quinn. It's gonna be alright."

"You keep secrets all the time, Islo," I whimpered.

"I don't want to. But if I have to choose between keeping a secret and the life of my daughter, I'm sorry but you lose."

Logic told me that was fair. Isla was his daughter. He was a father and good fathers put their kids' needs in front of everyone else's. But I was again a loser. I always lost to someone else. If it wasn't Àlvar and Al, it was something else. I was never first pick. I was never first priority.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn," Islo whispered. "There are more secrets and I can't tell you them. It wouldn't be safe for you to know. Please just trust me."

"How can I when you lie?"

"I don't lie. I just can't tell you everything right now. Please trust me when I say, it wouldn't be safe for you to know everything right now."

I pressed my face to his chest and balled my fist in his shirt. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's alright. We sometimes scare the ones we love."

"You thought I was going to kill you. I never want you to think that again."

"Wait... Quinn, I didn't say I was afraid you'd kill me."

"Yes, you did. You said 'he's going to kill me.'" I pulled back and frowned up at him.

"No, Quinn, I didn't." He frowned back at me. "Can... Can you read minds?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I murmured and shook my head.

"I don't think it's a ridiculous question, considering the state of our apartment right now, Quinn."

I looked up. Glass was covering the floor and the sofa from the broken cups and chandelier. I sighed and looked back down again, resting my head against Islo's shoulder.

"I'm meeting my mother."

"Yeah. How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know. She... Isn't someone I've been thinking about since I was a kid. It was easier to forget she ever existed."

"I guess." Islo sighed a bit and shifted, so he was leaning against the wall, and I was still in his lap. "She's been living in Skyen. She has her own shop. She also has two children with her husband. She was easy to find. Not a lot of women have her name in Skyen."

"What's her name?" I whispered.

"Quinn."

I widened my eyes and looked up, meeting Islo's gaze. "We... Share a name?"

"Yeah. Your father named you after her."

"No fucking wonder, my step-mother hated my guts." I couldn't help but smile. All this time he had been thinking about her. Maybe I even looked like her? Maybe we were so alike. Maybe he even loved her. I knew he loved me. I knew he did.

Islo snorted too and ran his hand up in my hair, massaging my scalp. I didn't know how he knew exactly what I needed but he did. He always did. I loved him so much for that.

But I also knew some of the trust I had in him had been broken. And the worst part was, I understood why he had to lie. But it didn't hurt any less that he still did it.

What else was he hiding?

I knew I should be nervous, but I was oddly calm. The room was facing the gardens, and this was where I was greeting my mother. My mother. The woman who had carried me in her belly and then had to give me up before I even got to know her. Twenty-one years later and here she was. Back where it all started for me. Maybe also for her?

The door opened behind me, but I took a moment to look at the garden one last time, before I turned around.

She was dressed like a commoner. In trousers and a plain white shirt. A blue vest with some flowers embroidered into the fabric was covering the shirt and she... Had the same hair as me. Just as unruly and piled on top of her head, the almost black curls cascading down to her shoulders.

We shared the same cheekbones. The same eyes and the same lips. The same nose. I looked exactly like her except I was taller. And broader. She was a lot more petite than I was. I guess that was one thing I actually inherited from my father then. His size.

She clenched her jaw and looked down at the floor, bowing. "Your Highness."

"Don't," I said before I could stop myself. "My name is Quinn."

She looked up and tentatively smiled. "So is mine."

I nodded and motioned towards the two sofas facing each other. We both sat down while the servants served us coffee. I picked up my cup and took a sip, in lack of something better to do.

"I was happy to receive your message," she tried, not touching her own cup.

I nodded, not knowing what to say. What the hell was I supposed to say to her?

"I've been wanting to meet you. For so long."

I looked up and met her gaze. Even our eyes had the same colour.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I'm just happy to see you." She smiled very warmly.

She was younger than the late queen. She couldn't have been more than... Maybe eighteen when she had had me. She was still so young.

And I always imagined her to be an old lady. Like the queen had been when she passed.

"You have a brother and a sister."

"I know," I said before I could stop myself. And before I realised, she was talking about her own children.

"I mean, younger brother and sister," she said softly. "They wanted to come. They've heard a lot about you."

"What are their names?"

"Leith and Ainsley."

"Those are nice names," I breathed and took another sip of my coffee.

"If you have any questions, you just ask. I'm here to answer."

I nodded again and put my cup down on the table. "Why... Why didn't you come sooner?"

"I wasn't allowed. I wasn't allowed to have any contact with you after you were born. They took you away immediately and I didn't even get to hold you."

Tears flooded my eyes before I even realised, I was sad. She didn't even get to hold me. She was barely a grown-up and they just took her child away from her. She rose to her feet and walked around the coffee table, sitting down next to me. She tentatively took my hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze.

"You're a very beautiful boy. You were then too. I knew you'd be so handsome when you grew up."

I bit down on my lip and nodded. "I... I have a fiancé."

"So I've heard. We do get the news in Skyen."

I snorted and put my free hand on top of hers. "He's from Skyen too. He's very kind. He has a daughter so... You're a step-grandmother."

"Oh, that makes me feel old." She laughed. She had such a soothing and melodic laugh. It was wild too and loud. She sounded so happy and it made me smile. Maybe this place hadn't ruined her. Maybe she was the lucky one for getting out of here.

"You look exactly like your siblings. Do you want to see?" She brought out some pictures from her purse and showed them to me, without waiting for me to answer.

Two children, the girl looking ten years old and the boy looking sixteen, looked into the camera, looking very serious. They looked like me. I smiled. They had the same dark complexion as me too. As did my mother. We were all so much darker than the av Stáls. And it had always made me feel like an outsider but now... Now I had found family who looked like me. And it was so comforting to know there were people out there, who looked like me. A place where I belonged.

"They look so much like me. Al and Àlvar didn't look anything like me."

"No, they always took after your father, those two. But my kids take after me."

I couldn't hold back any longer. Tears trailed down my cheeks, but they were happy tears. I circled my arms around her thin neck and hugged her. She hugged me back just as fiercely. We sat like that for a long while before I finally pulled back and dried my eyes.

"Sorry," I said with a shivering voice.

"Don't apologise, Quinn." She smiled and cupped my cheek with the palm of her hand. "I have thought of you every day since your birth. I prayed I'd get to meet you, even just once."

"It'll be more than once. I promise." I put my hand on top of hers on my cheek and smiled. "I'm not letting you disappear again."

"They would have to carry me out of here. Or lock me in a box and carry that. I want to get to know you, Quinn."

I couldn't stop smiling. My mother was here, and she wanted to get to know me. I couldn't believe there were still happy things in this world besides Islo. Maybe I deserved more than one person. Maybe I could be greedy and get one more.

My mother would be staying for a week. I was ecstatic to have her around and I couldn't wait to introduce her to Islo. My mother was meeting my fiancé. I never thought I'd get something like this.

I corrected his collar for the millionth time, and he put his hands on top of mine.

"Sweetness, it's fine. Don't worry."

"I just want us to look nice for my mother."

"I know, but I honestly don't think she'll care that much. She just wants to meet me, aye? Not judge me on my appearance. And if she does, she'll definitely not judge how straight my collar is."

I snorted and stretched to my toes, kissing him. "Sorry, I'm really nervous."

"It's okay. It's adorable, actually." He smoothed my hair out of my face and pressed his lips to my forehead. "I'm a little nervous too. So how about we sit down and prepare for her to come in?"

I took his hand in mine and led the way to the sofa. We sat down and I moved closer to him, leaning against him a little. I just needed the support.

And then there was a knock on the door, and I shot back up. "O-open the doors, Àbram."

Àbram bowed and opened the door. My mother appeared behind them and she smiled.

Islo rose to his feet too and we both stepped forward.

"I've been looking forward to this meeting," he said a little awkwardly. It was so easy to forget that he was not very good with people. I just hoped he would reign in his snark just for one day. "I'm Islo Charred, Quinn's fiancé."

She nodded and shook the hand he reached out. "A pleasure, but I fear an introduction is not needed. You're very famous in Skyen Mr Charred."

Islo chuckled a little nervously. "Uh... Yeah. You want to sit? We've ordered strawberry tarts from the kitchens. The last strawberries this year."

"I'd love to." She glanced at me on her way to the sofa and I shrugged a little. Islo was... A total dork. He all of a sudden seemed to be awkwardly aware of how tall he was, and he slouched a little before he sat down, his hands wringing in his lap.

"Why is Islo famous?" I asked, just to get the conversation going.

"A council man swaying the king? It's awfully romantic."

Islo cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I was the one being swayed. Quinn is very persuasive and determined to get what he wants."

I reached for a tart and shot Islo a look. "You make me sound so spoiled."

"You are a little spoiled," he chuckled and winked at me.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to be offended, but I wasn't. He was having a go at me and I could definitely take it. I'd just punish him later.

I bit down into the tart and sighed contently. The kitchen sure did know how to make these. I loved them with a passion.

"I hear you have a daughter? How old is she?"

"She'll be eleven in a month."

"Oh, one of mine just turned eleven. It's such an interesting age."

"Yeah, she's... Thinking about so many things now. It's amazing how they go from being blabbering little balls of fragility to independent, thinking people." He grabbed a tart and put it on a plate, digging into it with a fork. As opposed to me, who was eating it like a pig. I followed his example and wiped some of the sugary stuff off the sides of my mouth.

"The worst thing is how fast they grow up." She caught my gaze and smiled a sad smile. "You'll experience that one day, Quinn. One day you hold them in your arms, and then the next, they're taller than you."

"Is... Is Leith taller than you?" I asked and put my cake down.

She nodded. "Yeah. He hit that growth spurt last year. He's sixteen years old. You know how it is. You're quite tall yourself."

"Yeah. Mine hit around that age too. Al was always taller than me and within six months I was twenty centimetres taller than her." I rose to my feet and went to a small bookshelf, shoved into a corner. I crouched down and brought out an old photo album. I returned to the sofas but sat down besides my mother.

"Here's... Some pictures. Of me and my siblings when we were little. My father loved taking photographs." I swallowed something and handed her the album.

Islo rose and sat down on her other side, so he could see the pictures too. He caught my gaze and smiled a little at me before he looked down.

There was pictures I had completely forgotten about. Pictures of Al and I sitting on the floor and playing with these little wooden horses. Àlvar was sitting with us on one of the pictures.

"This was right before Àlvar was shipped out," I said and pointed to the picture. "I think that might've been one of the last times I saw him."

"He was a handsome boy," my mum said and ran her finger over the image. "He looked a lot like your father."

"Yeah, he did. Al always looked more like her mother."

Quinn turned the page and there was a family photo on the next one. My dad was holding me, while Al's mum was holding Al. Àlvar was in the middle. Al and I were probably three years old. I looked wide-eyed into the camera, while Al looked very unhappy.

I glanced up at my mum and found her frowning at the image. "She..." she started and then stopped.

"She was horrific," I chimed in, making my mum snort.

"She hated me from the day I set foot in this stronghold."

"Why? Did she know...?"

"Your father was always friendly with all of the servants. Your stepmother was not. She haunted us around the stronghold every day. And..." She stopped again.

"And then you were expecting me. With the king."

"Yes." She closed the album and took my hand in hers. "Your father claimed you immediately. It was as if he wasn't even ashamed of having been unfaithful. But he and the queen had been having trouble having more children. That's why there's such a large gap between you and your older brother."

"Did my father tell you that?"

She nodded hesitantly. "I think they were having issues. And that's why he..."

"Found you?" I tried.

"Yes. That's a good way of putting it." She smiled a little and opened the album again.

We looked through the images and both Quinn and Islo laughed at one picture of me, sitting in a cake with frosting covering my body and face. I was only wearing a diaper too.

It was so nice. Just sitting here with my family and looking at images.