The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 436

Liora’s POV

By the time I made it to my mother’s room, out of breath and wild-eyed, the handmaid was already there. I burst into the dark room to find the handmaid standing over my mother’s bed, her face partially concealed by the drapes, one hand cupped around her mouth as she leaned toward my mother.

The handmaid straightened when she saw me. Her eyes flicked over me, first with shock, then with barely concealed disdain.

“Mother,” I breathed. I could see her form faintly through the sheer drapes around her bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows like usual.

My mother’s thin, frail hand came up to wave the maid away. The maid shot me another look before she hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her and casting the space into darkness once more.

“Come here,” my mother’s voice croaked out.

I stood there for a moment without moving. The room smelled like incense, but beneath it was the distinct scent of body odor. The kind of fermented smell that came from a person staying locked up in a room, without leaving or opening the windows for a long time. It made my eyes water a little.

Finally, I took a few steps forward and came to stand at my mother’s bedside. She was in her dressing gown, the fine fabric nearly swallowing up her emaciated frame. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes sunken, and her hair looked especially thin.

“You’ve lost more weight,” I noticed, glancing at the thin, frail arms that stuck out from the sleeves of her gown. The spindly, pale hands and gnarled knuckles. She looked like she’d aged by ten years since the last time I saw her, which wasn’t even that long ago.

My mother coughed weakly. “I’ve not been well,” she said.

She was never “well”. But I didn’t say that out loud.

“Liora.” My mother’s eyes, having gone somewhat rheumy from months spent locked up in her room, turned to me. “I just heard the news.”

I swallowed. “I’m working on getting her back. I promise.”

“Are you?” She turned her head on the pillow with some effort. “And yet you are still wolfless.”

“She won’t come back until my mate marks me again,” I said.

“Then have him mark you.”

I straightened a little. “That was the plan. But now Father is making me marry Ambrose.”

My mother’s face twisted. “Then have Ambrose mark you.”

“Ambrose?” I blurted out. “Mother, you know what he—”

“A wolfless princess has no claim to the throne,” my mother cut me off. “Without your wolf, you are weak and dispensable. You must do whatever it takes to get your wolf to return. Before your father hands the inheritance over to that affair child of his.”

I pulled my head back. Bianca. She was talking about Bianca.

“Mom.” I took a step closer. “Something is going on with Dad. He’s not acting like himself. You can’t possibly expect me to let Ambrose, of all people, mark me just to keep my inheritance. Talk to him!”

“What’s the point?” She looked away. “He’s having an affair with that witch now, I’m sure of it. He won’t listen to me.”

“You’re the Queen. Of course he’ll listen to you. If you would just come out of your room, try to make him see sense, then he’ll respect you—”

But it still hurt. Especially now that I didn’t even have my own father to turn to.

I took a breath, steadying myself before I pushed away from the door. I refused to let go of hope; there had to be some way to make my father see reason. He wasn’t acting like himself. And I had a feeling that witch had something to do with it.

I started walking down the hall, staring at the tiles as my mind raced. Ambrose had mentioned that my father didn’t want me as an heir anymore, and my mother had mentioned my father handing the inheritance over to Bianca.

That felt very unlikely, but I wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility right now. Not when today felt like Opposite Day.

I had just rounded the corner when I heard footsteps echoing sharply down the corridor behind me.

“Princess?” Belinda’s voice. “Your betrothed is waiting for you in the gardens!”

“Shit,” I muttered. I picked up my skirt and my pace, hoping to avoid her before she spotted me. If I was going to accomplish one thing today, it was going to be that.

Just then, I felt a hand wrap around my upper arm. I gasped, but before I could react, the hand pulled me into a nearby closet. The door shut behind me, casting the cramped space into darkness.

My eyes adjusted, and I saw a familiar face hovering in front of me.

“Marcus?” I asked. “What are you—”

He pressed his finger to his lips.

“Quiet, Princess,” he whispered. “I’m here to help.”