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My throat tightens painfully. Win his trust. That’s my role, my sole reason for being here. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I whisper. “And about your mother. ”
Anden inclines his head, accepting my condolences. “My mother was the Senate’s Princeps. My father never once talked about her . . . but I’m glad they’re together now. ”
I’d heard rumors about the late Princeps. How she’d died of some autoimmune disease right after giving birth. Only the Elector can name a leader for the Senate—so there hasn’t been one in two decades, not since Anden’s mother died. I try to forget the comfort I’d felt while talking to him about Drake, but it’s harder to do than I thought. Think of Day. I remind myself how excited he’d been about the Patriots’ plan, and about a new Republic. “I’m glad your parents are at peace,” I say. “I do understand how it feels to lose loved ones. ”
Anden contemplates my words with two fingers pressed to his lips. His jaw looks tight and uncomfortable. He may have taken ownership of his role, but he’s still a boy, I realize. His father cut a fearsome figure, but Anden? He’s not strong enough to hold this country together by himself. Suddenly I’m reminded of the early nights after Metias’s murder, when I wept until the dark hours before dawn with my brother’s lifeless face burned into my thoughts. Does Anden have the same sleepless nights? What must it feel like to lose a father that you aren’t allowed to publicly mourn, however evil that father was? Did Anden love him?
I wait as he watches me, my dinner long forgotten. After what feels like hours, Anden lowers his hands and sighs. “It’s no secret that he’d been ill for a long time. When you’ve been waiting for a loved one to die . . . for years . . . ” He winces visibly here, allowing me to see very naked pain. “Well, I’m sure it is a different feeling from when that passing comes . . . unexpectedly. ” He looks up at me right as he says the last word.