novelraw Chapter 75 : A Mother’s Mask
Chapter 75 : A Mother’s Mask
Selene’s POV
The knock came just as the sun began to dip.
I smoothed my dress quickly, forcing my shoulders straight. My body was heavy, my mind frayed from the endless nights at Rooga’s bedside — watching his chest rise and fall, praying it would not be the last. But I couldn’t let them see that.
When I opened the door, three figures stood there.
“Elara.”
My daughter’s eyes widened, shimmering with relief. “Mother.” She threw her arms around me, pressing her face into my shoulder. For the first time in a year, I breathed in the scent of her hair, and my chest ached.
Behind her stood Prince Edmond — taller now, less boyish, though his nervous fidgeting betrayed him. And Seris Revingale, the spitting image of her line’s pride, sharp-eyed and poised.
I forced my lips into a faint smile. “Welcome home.”
Seris bowed respectfully. “Lady Selene. It’s an honor to finally meet you properly.”
Edmond bowed too, though his gaze flicked anxiously past me, as if searching for something inside the house.
I kept my expression calm. “You’ve traveled far. Come inside. Rest.”
Inside, the fire burned warm, Lyra guiding them to seats. I busied myself with pouring tea, my hands steady though my body screamed with fatigue.
Elara studied me closely. Too closely.
“Mother,” she said softly. “You look…” She hesitated. “…thinner.”
I laughed lightly, the sound brittle. “Do I? Then I must blame the borderland air.”
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But her gaze lingered, suspicion clouding her eyes. She was too much like her father. Too perceptive.
I turned away before she could press further. “Tell me of the Academy, Elara. Did you make the empire proud?”
Her lips tightened, but she obeyed, speaking of her studies, her victories, her friends. I listened, nodding, but my mind never left the small room down the hall where my son still slept, his tiny hand limp in mine each night.
Edmond’s gaze flicked again toward the hall, and I caught it. For a heartbeat, my mask threatened to crack. Did he know? Did Elara tell him?
I forced another smile, meeting his eyes directly. “Is something wrong, Prince Edmond?”
He stiffened, cheeks reddening. “N-No, Lady Selene.”
I let the silence hang until he looked away.
Behind my calm, the truth gnawed at me. My miracle still lay unconscious, caught between breath and silence. And yet here I stood, pouring tea as if nothing were wrong.
Because that’s what a Valemont did. We carried the weight and showed only strength.
Even when our hearts were breaking
“Where’s Rooga?” Elara asked suddenly, her tone light, almost teasing. “Is he running around again?”
For a moment, I almost answered her the way I always did — with a weary sigh about how he never sits still. But the words caught in my throat.
My daughter’s smile faltered when I stayed silent.
I lowered my gaze to the teacup in my hand, forcing my lips into something that might pass for a smile. “…He’s resting.”
Elara frowned, eyes narrowing. She’s too much like me — too quick to sense what I won’t say.
Before I could steer the conversation away, a soft sound drifted from the hall. A chair scraped.
“…He isn’t alone.”
All heads turned.
At the edge of Rooga’s room, sitting by his bedside, was a girl none of them should have known. Small, barefoot, with hair that shimmered blue-green like the tree outside, she sat silently, hands folded in her lap. Her expression was calm, too calm — the kind of silence that held weight.
Elara stiffened. Edmond blinked, confusion flashing across his face.
“Who is that?” Edmond whispered.
I rose slowly, placing my cup down with deliberate care. “A guardian,” I said simply. “She… watches over him.”
Neither of them needed to know more. Not yet.
But even I felt unease stir in my chest. For Maori to sit so still, so quiet — without her usual teasing, her laughter, her childlike mischief — it meant only one thing. She was worried.
And if a goddess was worried… what did that say of my son?
I clenched my hands behind my back, keeping my face composed for Elara and Edmond’s sake. My heart screamed, but I buried it under the same iron mask I’d worn since war.
“Come,” I said firmly, standing between them and the doorway. “He needs rest. Not noise. You’ll see him when he wakes.”
I prayed the words weren’t a lie.