"Is that truly what you believe about Annelise?" I asked, my voice low and controlled despite the anger simmering beneath. "Or is this another attempt to create chaos in my household?"
My mother's face revealed nothing but cold certainty as she held my gaze. "Believe what you will, Alaric. I've learned that you rarely take my word for anything."
The early morning light filtered through the small window of her comfortable prison, casting half her face in shadow. It seemed fitting somehow—this woman who had always shown me only fragments of herself.
"I didn't come here to discuss Grandmother," I said firmly. "I want to understand why you've harbored such hatred for Alistair all these years. He nearly died because of your schemes."
Lady Rowena turned away, her shoulders stiff. "I've already explained. He took what was mine."
"My affection, you mean? Did it ever occur to you that there might have been enough for both of you?"
