The King’s Cursed Bride Sneak Peek: Chapter 80
Her father had retired, and had it not been for her mother bustling about, the kitchen would have been empty.
Carissa plucked a threadbare rag out of a bucket of sudsy water and scrubbed the table. Her mother disappeared out the door, a bowl of potato shavings in hand. When she returned, she swept the floor.
Once the room was spotless, her mother tossed the broom against the wall, propped her hip on the table, and folded her arms. “You want to speak to me.”
Carissa plopped the rag into the bucket. It wasn’t a question, but she answered, “I do.”
“Then speak, daughter.”
‘Daughter.’ Perhaps all wasn’t lost after all. “I need to tell you about why I left. And what happened in Zonah.”
And she told her mother everything that had happened in the past month and a half. That she’d fled to escape a destiny of someone else’s making. That she’d lived with a Healer she fancied herself in love with. That she’d worked her fingers raw at a pub. That she’d discovered her curse. That she’d saved a little boy from a fire. That she’d become a nightwoman. That she’d been tossed out into the streets. That she’d found the Reaper. That she’d been thrown into the jailhouse.
And then there was the pinnacle of her story: Elon.
When she’d concluded her story, she felt both empty and whole. Empty—drained of energy and her tamped-down emotions. Whole—filled with the realization that she’d taken one of many steps in forging her destiny.
Her fingers were wet from trying to scrape the tears from her cheeks, yet they’d come pouring down regardless. Especially when she spoke of Elon. Carissa hadn’t had the courage to watch her mother while she told her story, but now she glanced up. A flurry of emotions flickered across her mother’s expression.
Perhaps she should tell her mother that if she wanted to criticize Carissa’s story in some form or fashion, she ought to wait until the morning. Never had Carissa poured out this much of herself. Never had she stripped herself enough to reach this point of vulnerability. Never had she told someone her story in its entirety. Not even Elon.
The emptiness inside left her skin feeling like a brittle shell, but she seamed her lips. Even if she didn’t understand, her mother loved her, and she would know not to loose her grief and anger on Carissa yet.
Her mother’s sigh was long and tired, its fingers rasping against her throat. “That was a story better left untold.”