Chapter 60 Strangers in the Palace II
"She belongs with us," I said. "She is our daughter."
"She is also their Nyx. The orphan who lived here. Who made friends. Who had a life." Grandmother's voice was gentle. "The ritual gave her a choice. Let her make it."
"Nyx," I said. Knelt. Met her eyes. "I know you do not remember me. Do not remember the palace. Do not remember being my daughter. But I remember. I remember everything. And I am asking you. Please. Give us a chance. Come back with us. Let us prove we are telling the truth."
"Why should I? Mistress Hallen says you took me. That I died. That you are lying." Nyx looked between us.
"Why should I trust people I don't know more than the woman who raised me?"You know, deep down.
You feel it. The bond. The connection. The truth." I touched my chest. "I am your mother." Even if you don't remember. Even if the ceremony made you forget.
I am yours. You are mine. That does not just disappear."
"I feel nothing. No bond. No connection. Nothing." But her voice wavered. Uncertain. "You are strangers. Kind strangers maybe. But strangers."
"Then come back anyway. Not as my daughter. As a guest. As someone investigating a mystery. Come see the palace. See the evidence. Then decide.
If you still want to leave after a week, I'll take you back myself.
I promise."
"You will let me leave? Really?"
"Yes. If that is what you choose after seeing everything." Even saying it hurt. "But give us one week. Seven days. That is all I ask."
Nyx looked at Mistress Hallen. "What do you think?"
"I think they are dangerous. I think you should stay here where it is safe." Hallen's voice was tight. "But I also think you have questions. Things you remember that do not fit. Dreams that feel too real." She touched Nyx's face. "Go. Investigate. Find your truth. But come back if they lie. Come back if you need sanctuary."
"I will. I promise." Nyx looked at us. "One week. Seven days. Then I decide."
We rode back to the palace. This time, Nyx asked questions. About the palace. About our lives. About everything.
She still called us "Your Majesty" instead of mother or father. Still kept a distance. Still looked ready to run.
But she was trying. And that was something. Small. Fragile. But something.
When we reached the palace, servants stared. Nobles whispered. Everyone saw the child who looked like the princess. But different. Younger. Wrong.
"Is that really Nyx?" Lyra asked quietly.
"Yes. And no. It is complicated." I walked past her. To the memorial room. To the wall of names. "Nyx. Come here."
She followed, cautious. Then stopped when she saw the wall. Three hundred and forty-seven names carved in stone.
"What is this?"
"My sins. My mistakes. My guilt." I touched the first name. "I killed these people. When I was cursed. When I was the shadow. Every name. Every life. All my fault."
"Why show me this?"
"Because you wanted to know what kind of people we are. This is the answer.
Broken. Guilty. Trying to be better." I looked at her. "You saved me from this. You gave your life to break the curse. To stop me from adding more names. You sacrificed everything for strangers. That is who you are. Who you were. Who I hope you can be again."
"I do not remember any of that."
"I know. But maybe you can remember in other ways. Through choices. Through actions. Through being the kind of person who would save strangers."
I put my hand on her face. She flinched but didn't move away. "You don't have to remember that you love me.
But maybe you can remember being brave. Being kind. Being someone who fights for what is right."
"I will try." Small voice. Uncertain. "But I am not her. Not the girl you remember. I am just—me. Seven years old. Scared. Confused. Lost."
"Then be you. That is enough. That is more than enough."
The week passed slowly. Nyx explored the palace. Read books in her old chambers. Talked to Lyris, who did not remember the old Nyx but liked this new one anyway. Trained with Kael, who taught her swordplay like she was any other student.
She laughed sometimes. Smiled. Seemed almost happy. But always with the distance.
There will always be a wall between us.
I found her in the training yard on the seventh day. By myself. Looking at nothing.
"Tomorrow you decide," I said. "Tomorrow you choose where you belong."
"I know." She didn't look at me. "I want to stay, want to believe you.
Wants to be your daughter. However, the other part of me remembers the orphanage.
Wants to be your daughter. However, the remainder of me recalls the orphanage.
"So what will you pick?" I don't know. She eventually turned to me. "If I stay, do I have to remember?" "Do I have to be the same person I was?"No. You can be yourself. Who do you wish to become?
We love you either way."
"How can you love me? You do not know me. This me. The seven-year-old orphan. You know the other girl. The powerful one. The one who saved you."
"I know you are brave.
I know you ask smart questions. I know you are nice to others even when you are scared. I know you laugh when Lyris tells bad jokes.
I know you bite your lip when you are concentrating." I smiled. "I know you. Maybe not every memory. Maybe not every story. But I know who you are underneath. And that person is my daughter. Always."
She was quiet. Then spoke. "Can I stay? Not as your daughter. Not yet. Just—as someone figuring things out. As someone learning who she is supposed to be."
"Yes. You can stay. As long as you want. However you want." I held out my hand. "Deal?"
She looked at my hand. At the offer. At the choice. Then, I took it. "Deal."
We shook. Formal. Distant. But it was a start. Fragile. Uncertain. Imperfect.
But a start.
That was all you could ask for at times. An opening instead of a closing. A decision to try instead of giving up. A chance to make something fresh out of what was lost.
I got my kid back.
Different. Changed. Maybe broken beyond repair. But here. Alive. Breathing. Choosing to stay.
And that was enough. For now. For this moment. For these fragile days, where we rebuilt what the ritual destroyed.
It was enough.
It had to be. Four days. And I had no idea how to use them.