5. Keira
Chapter 5
Keira
I hardly sleep all night. Every time I doze off, vivid images flash beneath my eyelids and I gasp awake.
I see Aldrin sitting on the floor of that tiny cell with despair in his shadowed eyes, his hair in disarray, a sheen of sickly sweat coating his skin. His fear for Hawthorne crippled him, and I didn’t so much as offer him a single comfort. Not a word or touch.
I was too consumed by fury. By my own overwhelming sense of betrayal. I was selfish.All the ways I could have done better run through my mind.
I see Hawthorne, delirious and unable to speak or focus his eyes, because my family tortured that sweet man with deprivation. Bile rises in my throat.
Did they drug him with a hallucinogen as well? Poison his mind and body?
My mind races in circles, and I become angrier and angrier with myself and my failures that allowed this. With Aldrin, because we would not be here without his secrets. With the broken trust that has shattered my heart and made me question whether I know him at all.
Mostly, with my father and grandmother for this cruelty toward people they know I care for.
I will never forgive them.
Aldrin’s expression when I walked into that cell springs to mind. The hope, the longing, the sheer carnal lust. It raised similar feelings within me, and I was not ready for it.
Hot tears run down my face. How do we get past this? How do we have a future together when we need to cut through a forest of lies and betrayals and failures? How do we get beyond the fact that my family abused him and his people?
I am up and charging through the corridors with the first rays of sunlight, heading straight for my father’s personal library. I hardly notice the roaring fireplaces or the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line the walls, too intent on finding him in the connecting study.
It is disappointingly empty.
The clearing of a throat has me turning on my heel. My father sits on the reading couch I just stalked past in the middle of the small library, an ankle crossed over his knee, holding a cup of mulled wine. An open tome rests in his lap.
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” I spit.
“Not when you haven’t slept yet.” He sets down his chalice, then closes the book and adds it to a pile, as though he is afraid I might throw something at him and damage it. “Before we get into another yelling match, I suggest we invite Aldrin and your grandmother into my study to clear the air.”
“I want my mother present too,” I say a little too quickly. “At this point, I don’t trust a word that comes out of your mouth, or my grandmother’s.” I shake my head. “Or Aldrin’s, for that matter. You can all talk circles around me, but not her.”
He spreads his arms. “Whatever you want, Keira. You may not believe me, but this has always been about you and your best interests.”
I roll my eyes at him. It is childish, I know it, but I can’t stop myself. He calls a guard and arranges for everyone to be summoned.
My gaze falls on the spine of the book he was just reading. Chronicles of the Great Fae War. The leather is still pristine and the pages may have yellowed at the edges, but they aren’t warped or damaged.
“When was that book written?” I ask.
My father’s eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t know. Fifty years ago? It is a study that combines multiple accounts.”
“Do you have anything written around the time of the war or before? No rewrites, but original manuscripts?” I urge.
He frowns at me. “No. Those are in the crown’s library alone.”
“How can you guarantee these texts are accurate? That history hasn’t been rewritten to give our people a common enemy in the fae? It hurt us badly when the borders between worlds were closed and we no longer had direct access to their magic. The king at the time had to lay the blame somewhere other than at his own feet.”
A muscle ticks in my father’s jaw. “Do you realize how much that sounds like a conspiracy theory? Is this the poison he has put in your head?”
I grip the back of the couch that faces his. “I found the original texts in the palace, Father. Living Memory Scrolls too. All under lock and key with magic wards, so no one can touch them.”
“And did you read any of them?”
I suck in a breath. “No. It was forbidden and I didn’t get the chance.”
He pins me with a severe gaze. “Keira, do me a favor and don’t just trust what that man tells you.”
We glare at each other. There is so much I could say—about Aldrin’s goodness, about the Living Memory Scrolls I witnessed in the City of Vertical Gardens—but when a person has prejudice deep in their heart, words alone cannot change them. Stories or accounts of facts can be denied or discounted.
He needs to experience the fae firsthand to see that they are not all the same. To be vulnerable to them and receive their help, their kindness, like I did. To live among them and learn that they are not so alien, but incredibly similar to us.
But how do you force that onto a person?
A flurry of servants arrives, bringing extra chairs into the study and setting up a spread of breakfast foods. I don’t touch any of it except for the coffee as I wait in an armchair, tapping my foot with agitation. I can’t seem to get comfortable.
The significance of the way the seats are arranged isn’t lost on me. My family is positioned on one side of my father’s immense desk, while a single chair is placed on the opposite side for Aldrin, where he will be very much alone.
Part of me wants to drag my seat next to his, but something holds me back. I am not ready to give him an inch of my trust again. There is an iron vault around my heart.
Nervous anticipation rolls through me, making sweat prickle over my skin. Aldrin has the power to break me. If he turns into that feral, crazed fae they claim they have seen, a part of my soul will shrivel up and die.
Marching boots echo from the library, announcing Aldrin’s arrival, escorted by a team of guards. My mother places a soothing hand on top of mine and my father and grandmother cease their hushed whispers.
Aldrin’s huge form materializes in the doorway, then stops, flanked on either side by guards in our house colors of green and brown. My breath snags as I look at my lover. Former lover. I have no idea what we are. I never really have.
His long, dark hair hangs freely, framing a face that is all sharp angles. My eyes soak in those high cheekbones, that narrow jaw and perfectly straight nose. There is a paleness to his usually tanned skin and deep lines beneath his eyes, but that amber gaze holds a blaze of fury as it narrows upon my father.
It makes Aldrin’s masculine beauty absolutely brutal.
He cuts an imposing figure. One I could never fear. The taut rigidness of his broad shoulders and the tendons exposed below his rolled-up sleeves all threaten violence, but somehow it makes me feel safe. Like he is my protector angel of death. He would never raise a hand against me.
A guard nudges Aldrin forward and he gives the man a withering look that makes him stagger back. Aldrin approaches his seat and scans the room.
When he sees me, his steps falter.
His expression completely changes, his features turning slack with shock, and his eyes bore into mine with a wild desperation. He stares at me for a long time, gripping the back of his chair for support, but he doesn’t say a thing. I am pinned and breathless beneath his gaze.
My heart crashes painfully against my ribs. I don’t understand that look. It’s like he is trying to tell me something.
Aldrin’s eyes flick back to my father and a deep frown pinches his thick eyebrows. The hint of a smile grows on my father’s face, like he has won a game, and I want to kick him under the desk. I would, if I could reach him. But my position here is tenuous. If I overstep, Father will whisk Aldrin away to another prison where I cannot find him.
“Aldrin, please, take a seat,” my father says amicably, gesturing with a hand. “We will continue our… discussions . My daughter has asked to be present, but make no mistake…” He throws me a scathing look. “I will be asking all the questions today.”
I remain absolutely calm, focusing on my breathing, and definitely not on the fact that I want to smack him. I made my father no such promises.
Aldrin sits slowly, flicking me glances of growing concern, but says nothing. Ropes of air tie his waist and arms to the chair. My father’s wields are so expertly done, I would have missed them if I hadn’t been watching Aldrin. Once complete, they are invisible.
Their presence triggers a burning fury within me. Like Aldrin hasn’t been humiliated and degraded enough over the past days.
“Is tying him up really necessary?” I scowl at my father, who shoots me a dark look. “I’m serious, Father. Remove the binds from him!”
Heartbeats pass while he considers Aldrin, then he breaks the binds. “Shall we pick up where we left off? Aldrin, when are the other fae crossing into this realm to take their consorts by force?”
I suck in a sharp breath, but Aldrin says nothing. I stare at him like he has grown a second head.
“Come now, Aldrin,” my father continues. “Are you going to deny these facts now that my daughter is sitting here?” He gestures in my direction. “Deny that you came here to claim her by whatever means possible. Deny that your people have the intent of stealing more human consorts.”
My heart feels like it will burst as horror surges through me.
I don’t believe it. I can’t.
Aldrin says nothing. He stares and stares at my father as the silence drags out, all his earlier rage gone.I don’t understand why he doesn’t rant and scream and call out the lies. They are lies. I know it in the depths of my soul.
“DENY IT!” My father slams a fist on the desk, tipping over a teacup and slopping liquid everywhere. I jolt from the shock of it.
“Edmund. Is this really appropriate with Keira here?” My mother places a hand on his arm, shooting a worried glance at me.
“She needs to hear it.” My grandmother walks around the desk and stands beside me, placing an arm around my shoulders. I flinch under the touch. “You need to see that he is just like every other fae.” Her voice is warm and soft, but there is hatred masked behind that tone. “Otherwise, why does he not deny it?”
Aldrin turns pleading eyes on me.
Sweat beads his forehead, but still he doesn’t say a thing. Every muscle in his body is taut, with tendons sticking out in his neck like he is struggling against something. Perhaps it is the sight of me witnessing this.
“No,” I whisper. “It can’t be true. I don’t believe it.” A single tear falls from my eye and slides down my cheek.
“It is, Keira.” My father drags my attention back to him. “Why do you think a fae male who is infatuated with you would be here? He has tried to claim you once before.”
“We had many conversations with Aldrin and his people while we had them in our cells,” my grandmother chimes in. “They have given us enough information between them to piece together a coming attack on our women.”
I flick wide eyes to my father. His lips are pressed into a thin line. He didn’t want that said in front of me.
“It’s not true,” I argue back, then turn to Aldrin. “Tell them it’s not true, Aldrin! Tell them your people aren’t like that! I know Cyprien. He would never?—”
Sweat drips down Aldrin’s stony face and all those angular planes turn savage as he stares daggers at my father, whose smirk has suddenly fallen. Neither look at me. It is as though they are in a silent battle of wills.
A sudden burst of magic flares through the room as light and air rush from Aldrin’s center like ripples in a pool.
I am overwhelmed by wave after wave of warm tingles as they crash over my skin. Aldrin’s hair whips around his face like it is caught in a strong, chaotic breeze. Hatred dances in his eyes, and still I am not afraid of him.
The shadows of those black marks that paint his face when he is ready for a fight appear. My heart thunders as I silently plead for those horns not to materialize. My family will never trust him if they see the wildest parts of him now.
“You dare gag me with bindings of air!” Aldrin rises from his seat and points a finger at my father. The broken wields become faintly visible as they fall from him. “You dare take away my ability to speak, then challenge me to deny allegations of your own fabrication!”
We all stand rapidly, a few chairs clattering to the ground. Everyone takes a step back from Aldrin, except for me. I move toward him.
“You have tortured me and my people,” Aldrin spits, his eyes flicking between my father and grandmother. “For days, you made sure we didn’t sleep. You thrust starvation and thirst upon us, then laid a feast in front of us that we couldn’t touch unless we betrayed our people with lies. You led me to believe you were going to cut my man into pieces while he was still alive. I have endured countless mind games of your making, but the worst you have done is try to turn Keira against me.”
My feet take me straight to Aldrin as though I am in a trance. He doesn’t notice until I place a gentle hand on his arm. I don’t know how I expected him to react—maybe to shrug off my touch or stare at me with bewildered eyes.
Instead, he falls to his knees before me.
“I deny it! I deny all of it.” He takes my hands in his. “I will give you another blood oath, Keira. I will make another bargain. Whatever you need to believe my truths, I will do it.”
I pull him back up to his feet and wrap my arms around him. He presses his head into the crook of my neck.
“I am sorry. So sorry for what they have done to you,” I whisper back. We tremble in each other’s arms. Tears spill down my face. It is not enough to fix the hurt and betrayal between us, but it is a momentary truce. A beginning.
“Don’t you dare touch my daughter!” my father yells with murder in his voice. My mother grips him as though she can physically hold him back. “Get your hands off her!”
I put myself between my family and Aldrin. “You tortured him! You tortured his people! After you knew what they meant to me,” I spit at my father and grandmother. “How could you inflict such harm on anyone, let alone people I care for?”
My mother turns frantic eyes on my father. “No, Edmund—this isn’t true, is it?”
“It is true,” Aldrin says from behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
“I have seen the evidence of at least one of his men being tortured in this manner,” I say. My father says nothing; he can hardly hold my eye. “Am I just another piece in the game you are playing with these fae? Another way to break them? This is my life you are toying with.”
I find myself leaning over his desk, snarling in his face. My mother glares at him with open hostility. Our family is a damned mess.
My grandmother enters the fray, taking my arm and gently trying to tug me away from Aldrin. “This was a necessary evil,” she hisses. “You will see that with time. This fae has tried to steal you away from us before, and he kept it a secret from you for a reason.”
A jolt rushes through me at those words. Aldrin drags in a harsh breath, drawing his hands swiftly away from my shoulders.
I have been told this story again and again in the last few days. A fae monster arriving to take their child, their baby, away from them.
“How old was I, exactly? When he tried to steal me away?” I don’t give them a chance to reply. “Because I was little more than a child when I was promised to Prince Finan. Or is it different because he is a human royal?”
My mother shatters the room with a whisper. “It was before you were born, Keira.”
“Do not trust him.” A thick vein pulses in my grandmother’s forehead and the tendons stick out in her taut neck. “Do not let him put a wedge between our family. He would have snatched you as a child, as soon as you were born, if he could, and he will take others from us.”
“Take her as a child?” Aldrin roars, stepping around me. “Take her as a child! We thought she was a woman grown when I asked after her! You know that. My sister saw in her vision the Lord Protector’s second daughter in her prime years. Lorrella usually had premonitions mere months before events played out, never decades in advance. I didn’t know you had no children at the time. I suggested a proposal for marriage. One that she could agree to or dismiss. Had you not reacted with an act of war, you would have known I was not trying to steal your women.”
I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under my feet.
Like the entire world realigns, because this changes everything. Doesn’t it?
“Besides, you are one to speak about stealing children, aren’t you, Naomi?” Aldrin snarls. I reach out a hand to stop him, but he has moved too far away from me. “Isn’t that what you and other pilgrims do? Steal fae babies? Don’t you come to our realm to become pregnant to our men, then return to this land before the father has a chance to know what he has lost? Don’t you call it a miracle conception and pull the wool over your people’s eyes?”
“What is he talking about?” Father growls at his mother, his face flushed entirely red.
I try to speak, but my throat has seized up.
“You’re half fae, Edmund,” Aldrin laughs bitterly. “You are what you hate so much.”
“Nonsense.” My father turns back to my grandmother, who has tears forming at the edges of her eyes. I have never seen her cry before.
“Let me show you,” Aldrin says conversationally, but there is a vicious smile on his face. “Your kind usually has an instinctual glamour to fit in.”
Another wave of bright magic bursts from Aldrin, searing as it cascades over the entire room. I squeeze my eyes shut under the sheer onslaught. I fight to drag breaths in.
It feels like my soul is being stripped away and remade. Icy fingers run over my body, thousands of them, turning into fine needle pricks. My scalp burns and my ears ache.
Gasps and screams fill the room, and my eyes fly open. Everyone pulls away from my father, including Aldrin, who pushes me behind him.
My father is the same man with his glamour stripped, but so utterly different.
His chin-length hair and beard are no longer flame-red; they are woven strands of actual fire, whipcords moving and cracking, giving off embers that sizzle in the air. I have never seen anything like it. No wonder it never sat neat or flat.
His skin has turned a deep shade of red, and each of his many freckles and large birthmarks glow like tiny infernos. His green gaze has been replaced entirely by orbs of flames, wide and staring at me with horror, and his ears are peaked like those of a fae.
Aldrin stares at my father, then at me, mouth hanging open, all his rage forgotten.
“Naomi.” Aldrin’s next words fall upon the room and shatter us all. “I don’t think you bedded a fae.”