“A substantial amount,” Calladia echoed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to end up exactly like you. I have my own dreams, my own goals.”
Cynthia scoffed. “And what are those? Besides embarrassing me every time your name ends up in the gossip column for fighting.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t fight all the time if I wasn’t so bloody mad all the time!” Calladia shouted. “Maybe I’m reacting to an atmosphere of constant disapproval. You ever think of that?”
Astaroth gripped her calf beneath the water as if he could anchor her and keep her safe as this storm swept through.
“Why are you swearing like a British person?” Cynthia asked. “And really, what do you have to be angry about? You’ve lived a charmed life. You’ve had anything and everything you wanted, whenever you wanted it.”
“Everything except your approval.”
“Approval has to be earned,” Cynthia snapped. “So far, you’ve only tried to spite me.”
“Bullshit,” Astaroth said softly, holding Calladia’s gaze. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. He stepped in front of her, grabbing her other calf as well. There was nothing sexual in the touch; he just wanted to be there for her.
Calladia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it out through pursed lips. He saw her pulling herself together as her expression smoothed into a calm mask. Then she nodded. “I won’t be at dinner tonight,” she said into the phone, mirroring her mother’s icy tone. “I’m your daughter, not a prop for the campaign trail. And until you can see me as that again, I won’t be attending any other dinners either.”
She hung up. The phone immediately began vibrating again, but she switched it off and threw it overhand into the forest. “Good riddance,” she muttered.
Her legs had relaxed enough for Astaroth to step between them. He moved his grip from her calves to her face, directing her to look at him. “That was appalling,” he said.
“Which part?”
He looked at her incredulously. Did she have to ask? “Every word out of your mother’s mouth. I’m a demon, and even I think that was downright cruel.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to my life.” Her shoulders sagged. “Maybe she’s right. I do go out of my way to piss her off.”
“No.” His denial was loud. “Don’t let her diminish you. You’re a warrior, Calladia, and you don’t need to apologize for being who you are.”
Her lips trembled as she smiled, and a tear slid down her cheek. “When did you get so nice?”
He scoffed. “I’m not nice. I’m honest.”
“I thought you were a famed liar.” She swiped at her eyes.
“To the rest of the world, maybe. Not with you.” He held her gaze, willing her to see his sincerity. “Like calls to like, Calladia. You’re a force to be reckoned with, no matter what your mother says. I’m six hundred years old, and you still put me in my place.”
Her mouth twisted. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
“It is. You’re just not used to people who admire strength.” He considered the hunch in her shoulders and the tragedy still written across her features, wanting to erase them and bring back his proud, fierce queen. “You’re more than strong though. You’re funny and loyal and witty. You’re adventurous. You burn, Calladia, and it’s not your failing if other people can’t handle your light.”
The glow from the floating torches cast stars across her watery eyes, and her hair gleamed gold. She was luminous without even trying.
To Astaroth’s shock, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned down, pressing her face into his shoulder. It couldn’t have been a comfortable position, perched above him on the ledge as she was, but she settled into him with a sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded and placed his hands at her waist, heart pumping madly.
Once her breathing had slowed, Calladia spoke again. “You asked if she’s always been like this. Yes and no. She was always strict when I was growing up, and she wanted me to be polite and tidy and all that, and she would have preferred I take up piano instead of rugby, but it was never this bad.”
“What changed?” Astaroth asked, rubbing her lower back.
“Running for office.” Calladia nosed at his neck. “It was wild how fast the shift happened. One minute she was my disapproving, perfectionist mom, and the next it was like all her toxic traits had hardened into her whole identity. Like the power suits and back-alley deals became her personality.”