28. Shade
SHADE
Four fuckinghours of interrogation later, Councilman Chern ascertained the same thing I’d done in a matter of seconds the other day. “Headmaster Irwin was acting under an enchantment. My suspicion is that a Quandary Blood is to blame.”
The Council members and Elders listened while Chern detailed his tactics for pulling that information from the Death Blood’s mind, then the Sangré Councilman continued with his suggestions for how to handle the situation. “His psyche is vulnerable, so until we apprehend the Quandary Blood who did this, we’ll need to keep Headmaster Irwin under close observation.”
Meaning he wanted to jail the poor man until the matter was resolved.
Several of the Councilmen bobbed their heads in agreement, while Constantine Nacht pointed out that locking up Headmaster Irwin also served as a suitable punishment for being “so easily corrupted by enemy forces.” I nearly snorted at that claim. These imbeciles had no idea whom they truly faced or how many centuries of hatred had piled up toward them.
But they’d find out, and soon.
Kols met my gaze from across the table, his golden orbs flaring with a thousand questions. Fortunately, he hadn’t voiced anything that could incriminate us, but I suspected we were due for a long conversation after this was through.
He probably thought I bit Aflora because the Council told me to, which was partially true—I’d done it to maintain my cover. But I knew years ago that my fate would cross her path. This was so much bigger than the Elders or the Midnight Fae Council could possibly comprehend. They would have to see beyond their own bigotry and arrogance to realize the truth, and I wasn’t about to help them with that task.
Kols’s father made a few closing remarks once the sentencing was done, then looked to Constantine for any further guidance the Elders wished to bestow upon us. The retired king merely advised Kols to allow Aflora to be taken next time, something he agreed to with a mere nod, likely because he was too livid to speak. I understood that feeling all too well.
When the meeting finally adjourned, I stood and stretched my arms, ready to disappear, only a look from Kols told me he’d come after me if I did.
“Your mum is looking forward to having you over for dinner tonight, Kolstov,” Malik said softly, reminding his son that he’d agreed to come home after this mess.
My father, on the other hand, left without even looking at me. There would not be a similar invite to come home for a family dinner. We didn’t do that, because it would require talking and making false pleasantries, something neither of us could be arsed to do.
And my mother, well, she rarely spoke these days.
“I’m looking forward to it, too,” Kols replied. “I just need to talk to Shadow about a few things before I go.”
“Does it involve that little power scuffle you two got into last month? Because he told the Council how he nearly beat you.” Malik grinned at me while he spoke, clearly enjoying the rivalry between me and his son.
“I believe I said I let him win,” I drawled. Because that had been a far more believable story than the one Kols had come up with.
“Let me win?” Kols repeated, his eyebrows popping upward. “Since when?”
Malik chuckled. “I’ll leave you two to work that out. See you in thirty minutes or so?”
“That’ll be enough time for me to remind Shadow who is closer to the source, yes.” Kols sounded so serious that I wondered if he intended to deliver on that threat.
A few others showcased their amusement at our trademark bickering, then left us alone in the Council Chambers. Kols cocked his head toward a painting of Constantine on the wall, then stepped toward it with his wand. A muttered spell caused the colors to shift, revealing an entrance to a room I didn’t know existed here.
Kols led the way, his shoulders rigid, and I followed him into a much darker chamber lacking in windows. He uttered a spell to silence the interior, canceling out any listening devices, then he leaned back against a table in the center of a black rug. There were only three chairs, the space about a tenth of the size of the other room.
“What is this place?” I asked him, glancing around.
“Oh, something I know that you don’t?” he countered. “Fascinating.”
I snorted. “Want to play a game of trading information, Elite Blood? Because I have a feeling I’ll outlast you by a mile.”
“What the fuck?” he demanded. “What. The. Fuck?”
“You’ll need to be more specific,” I drawled, then ducked as his fist came for my face. “Well, now there’s a positive way to seek answers.” I mockingly applauded him and jumped to the side as he tried to strike me again.
Then I shadowed to the other side of the table. “Feel better yet?” I asked him when he heaved a furious breath.
“Hardly,” he muttered, fixing his suit jacket and tie. “Start talking, Shadow, or so help me, I will kill you.”
I let the false threat go because time wasn’t on our side, and bickering got us nowhere. “Do you really think I bit Aflora because of some edict?” I asked him, arching a brow. “You know me better than that. I’ve never been one to play by the rules, and authority means shit to me.”
“So why did you do it?”
“Because fate demanded it,” I admitted. “Because I wanted to. Because she was always meant to be ours.” There were a thousand reasons I could list, none of which would truly satisfy his quest for knowledge. “I gave them that recording as proof of being on their side, just like I bit her because they asked me to, but I never do anything without a true purpose. They don’t know about her collar or her additional ties. They also have no idea who they’re truly fighting in this war.”
“And you do.” Not a question, but a statement.
“Yes.” I ran my fingers through my hair and considered what else I could tell him without risking fate. “Look, I know I’ve not been very forthcoming?—”
“Understatement.”
Ignoring his interjection, I continued, “But you can trust me to have Aflora’s best interests at heart. She’ll have a choice to make soon, and that choice will rely very heavily on our ability to get along.”
“A choice of what?”
“Which destiny to pursue,” I replied.
“Stop speaking in fucking riddles and give me something I can understand.”
“I don’t know how to do that without risk,” I admitted.
“Then you’re fucking worthless to all of us,” he retorted, causing me to flinch. “How the hell am I supposed to protect our mate if I keep being blindsided by bullshit? I mean, the school gets attacked, and apparently, I was supposed to let her be taken? Fuck that. Now I find out the Council and the Elders have known all along that Quandary Bloods are still alive, and that you’ve been working with them for months.”
He started to laugh, the sound a bit hysterical.
“They’ve also been killing anyone and everyone associated with Quandary Bloods for hundreds of years,” I added. “Don’t forget that part, or how they casually mentioned the reason they left Aflora alive.”
“Right. Because they killed her parents.” He placed his palms on the wood table, his shoulders bowed as he muttered a string of curses under his breath. I would have been impressed by some of them if I wasn’t sensing the pain underlining each colorful word. “How the hell are we going to tell her that? She’s going to hate us.”
“She won’t,” I promised. “We didn’t do it.”
“You’re right. My fucking grandfather did.” He shoved away from the table to begin pacing, his long legs eating up the small space of the room quickly. When he nearly hit the wall, he turned and walked back to me, then rotated again, and did several laps while continuing to shake his head.
“She won’t blame you,” I said softly, meaning it. “She knows it’s not you.”
“You say that like you’ve already seen the outcome,” he replied, pausing to look at me. “Are you working with a Fortune Fae? Is that how you know so much?”
“Yes.” No point in hiding an obvious deduction. I just wouldn’t give him details, something he must have known since he didn’t bother to ask me for information on my source.
Instead, he looked at me and intelligently asked, “What can you tell me, Shade?”
“There’s a war coming,” I said, feeling that was pretty evident now based on everything that had already happened. “And Aflora is going to be forced to pick a side. Retribution or reformation.”
“And what side are we on?” he demanded.
“That remains to be seen,” I admitted honestly. “I’ve seen the potential for both avenues.” I realized the mistake in my wording the second his eyebrows flew upward into his hairline.
“Seen?”
Yeah, that’d be the word I shouldn’t have mentioned. Rather than reply, I remained silent. I’d already said too much.
“Explain,” he demanded.
“I can’t.” Not without risking everything. “One day, I will. I promise. But for now, I need you to trust that I have Aflora’s best interests at heart.”
“It’s hard to trust someone who is constantly hiding things and withholding important details, Shadow.”
“Just as it’s hard to trust someone related to the male who got us all into this mess to begin with,” I tossed back, tired of this bantering act. “You’ve studied Fortune Fae. You know that prophecies can change depending on the actions of others. If I touch or influence the wrong strand in the web too much, it could sever and end and land us on a completely new string of fate.”
He didn’t reply, just watched me with a tick in his jaw.
I sighed. “I’m walking a tightrope, Kols. I’m trying to help where I can without interfering too much, and it’s fucking exhausting. So rather than hold it against me, why don’t you try to have some fucking respect and work with me? I provide hints as I go along. If you’re smart, you’ll catch them. If not…”
Then we all fail, I thought with a shrug. I knew I was being infuriating, but I had no choice. If I gave him all the answers, our destinies would be strongly impacted and all the predictions could change.
Fortune Fae weren’t supposed to interfere too heavily in the fates of other fae, and I’d plucked Aflora’s strands several times within the notorious web that dictated our destinies. My meddling had already impacted the futures for Kols and Zeph, causing their strands to cross Aflora’s in the process. It was a consequence I knew about ahead of time, having chosen to go that route anyway, but that wasn’t the point.
I’d already altered destiny several times. The more I told him, the stronger the risk that our current strand would end in the web.
And then fate would change. Again.
Which would be very bad for all of us involved.
“Tell me you care about her,” Kols said after a long, tense beat.
“I more than care about Aflora,” I replied. “She’s my reason for everything and the driving motivator for many of my decisions. And if I could, I’d take her away from this situation, but I know that’s not how any of this works. She’s a pivotal element in the future with a destiny only she can choose. And I’ll support her, even if she makes the wrong choice.”
Because that was what I was destined to do.
And the same with Kols.
“Our futures are aligned, Midnight Prince,” I told him softly. “It’s time for you to accept it, just as I have, and stop looking for who to blame in all this. Because, trust me, you won’t like what you find down that dark alley.”
“More cryptic bullshit,” he muttered.
“That’s never going to change,” I replied. “Now go home. I’ll let Aflora know we’re okay.” She’d told me about an hour ago that she was in the Human Realm with Zeph, something about heading to the park. Sounded like a date to me, which had made me smile.
It was about time Zeph worked to win her over.
He’d made a lot of bad turns along the way, but he seemed to be curving the right way now.
“I’ll be in touch,” I told Kols, disappearing before he could demand I stay. We’d discussed enough. He knew I wasn’t on the side of the Council and the Elders, which would have to satisfy his curiosity for now because I had a more important place to be.
A few minutes later, I materialized in the meadow I’d taken Aflora to twice now.
The sun illuminated the flowers, giving the place a beautiful glow I knew she’d adore, but it was the light up on the hill beyond that captured my interest.
I wandered up the familiar path to the cottage lurking beyond the concealing mist, my magic allowing me to enter at will.
“Hello, Shadow,” my grandmother called from inside, welcoming me in that eerie way of hers.
Because she’d seen me coming.
“Hi, G’ma,” I replied, stepping through the threshold into the living area. “I think I screwed up.”
Her blue eyes—the same shade as my own—glimmered with knowledge, confirming my statement.
“Come,” she murmured, gesturing to the dining room. “We’ll discuss it over cookies.”
I sighed. Sweets weren’t a good sign. They meant she had bad news to share.
And I could only imagine what that would be.