Chapter 36 Wild Draics Couldn’t Keep Me Away #2
And Ember told them everything, even the parts that ripped her apart to say out loud.
The realization of what her mother did, and what she planned to do still, hit her like a freight train, and she found herself struggling to breathe.
She looked over toward Theo asleep in his bed and thought about Maeve alone in that cell. They needed her, were depending on her.
So, she would breathe, if not for herself, then for them.
The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
“I knew there was something off about her,” Killian replied, as he shook his head. “I would love to say I’m surprised, but I know all too well what parents are capable of.”
“I’m so sorry, Ember,” Fen whispered, and she could tell he meant to with every fiber of his being.
“So, we will be back for the ball,” Killian said. “We will make our appearance, sneak away to the dungeons, release the children—"
“And the woman,” Ember interrupted.
“Right, and the—" Killian paused, brow furrowed. “The woman?”
Ember nodded. “There’s someone else locked up down there, and from what I can tell, she’s been there much longer than any of the kids. She needs help too.”
“Who is she?” Fen asked, suddenly intrigued.
“A Wildling,” Ember breathed. “She’s weak. He’s drained her magical core to strengthen the wards and give him enough strength to get around, but she isn’t strong enough for both. He can’t heal himself completely and keep the wards up, so he’s been looking for me—waiting for me.”
“What if she’s been planted by Helvig or Collum?” Fen asked. “What if it’s a trap?”
“I don’t know how I know, but I do,” Ember replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I just need you to trust me.” Both the boys stared at her for so long Ember wasn’t certain they were still breathing. They finally nodded, and she took a breath.
“And if it doesn’t work?” Fen asked, barely above a whisper. “What do we do if it doesn’t work?”
“I always have a back-up plan.” Ember smiled.
“Right then,” Killian continued, as he rubbed his forehead, “we will break out the children and the strange woman, then Echo them all home?”
Ember nodded, shrugging her shoulders. “More or less, yes.”
“Do we have a plan B?” Killian smirked. “You know, for when this plan inevitably goes to shit?”
Ember cut her eyes at him, fighting the smile that was trying to take over. “It will work,” Ember replied. “It has to.”
Fen went searching the bedroom for snacks, and Ember and Killian stayed on the balcony, staring up at the stars. She shivered as the wind picked up, and he stepped closer to her, just a step.
“I’m sorry about your mum,” he whispered. “I know this isn’t the way you were hoping it would play out.”
“I dreamed about it for years,” Ember replied, as she stared up at the moon. “I thought I had finally gotten my happy ending, my own real-life fairytale.”
Killian shook his head as his pinky touched the side of her hand gripping the rail. “That’s the thing about fairytales,” he breathed. “They very rarely have happy endings. But you can’t close yourself off, not from us. Something eventually is going to break.”
“What if it’s me?”
Killian grinned. “You’re unbreakable, Starshine.”
She tried to smile, she did, but something about the way he spoke to her, like he actually believed in her, broke her into a million pieces.
She thought about the rest of the people on the island—the Vala and Fae and elves and Merrow—how was she supposed to protect them from this?
This couldn’t be her destiny. She didn’t even know if she believed in destiny, not anymore.
“I am destined for darkness,” she whispered.
She didn’t like to think about the prophecy, but every night for the last two months, it seemed to rattle in her brain, a reminder of who she was—what she was destined to become.
“They have been planning this since the day I was born,” she continued. “Maybe this is what the prophecy was talking about. Maybe I truly can’t escape my fate.”
“You get to decide what your fate is,” Killian replied. “You can fight it alone or let us help you.”
“I won’t put you two in danger,” she breathed. “This is so much bigger than we could’ve imagined. I won’t let my destruction become yours.”
“Did you know,” Killian said, “that for a star to be born, a gaseous nebula has to completely collapse?” He traced her hand with his pinky, goosebumps now covering her arms.
Ember furrowed her brow. “What are you on about?”
“It’s okay if you need to collapse.” He shrugged. “This is not your destruction, even if it feels like it right now.”
Ember stalked through the doors of the palace; head held high as Collum trailed closely behind her. She had called for him the next morning, to escort her to the palace. She didn’t lie when she told Fen and Killian she had a plan B the night before. She just hadn’t told anyone what it was.
She knew in the back of her mind that there was a chance their plan wouldn’t work.
Fen was right. There were too many variables—too many moving parts—and she had no way of knowing exactly how it would all go down.
So, she steeled herself to do what she needed to do.
If she wanted to win, she had to play his game.
She walked down the corridors and stood in front of the door to Helvig’s study, waiting as Collum knocked.
Instead of a reply, the door swung open, Helvig sitting at his desk looking more worn out than she had seen him yet.
He smiled at her, and she forced a smile back, walking confidently across the floor as her boots clacked against the marble.
“Mo Stór,” a voice sounded from the other side of the room, “I didn’t know you were coming by today.
Ember almost stumbled as she saw her mother walk in through another door, but she kept her back straight and head high. It was good she was here. She wouldn’t have to say this more than once, and she could go ahead and get it out of the way. She gritted her teeth as she forced a smile.
“I wanted to talk to you both,” Ember said, as she made it to the desk Helvig was seated at, twirling the gold ring around her finger.
Helvig smiled as he motioned to the chair in front of him. “You’ve come to a decision then?” he asked, as Aoife walked to stand behind him. The sight of her behind him made Ember’s stomach roll—his loyal daughter there to do his bidding in whatever capacity he required.
“I have.” Ember nodded, swallowing dryly as she willed her chest not to shake. “I will be your donor for however long you need, and I will be your princess.” The words tasted like bile in her mouth, but she smiled prettily, praying they believed it.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Aoife cooed, walking around the desk to kiss Ember on the head. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to physically recoil.
She gave them a small nod and took another breath. “I just have two conditions,” Ember said.
Helvig gave her a nod to continue.
“The first is that we wait until after the ball. I’d like one last night to just have fun with my friends, be a normal teenager for a little while longer.”
Helvig rubbed his chin, contemplating, and Ember held her breath.
“I think we can manage that,” he laughed gruffly. “I remember my first Ostara ball, and you deserve a night to relax.”
Ember let out a shaky breath of relief. She steeled herself for her next demand.
“And the second condition?” Helvig asked, eyes narrowing like he knew what was coming.
Ember did her best to control her fidgeting as she looked him in the eyes.
“My second condition,” she said coolly, “is that after the ball you let Maeve and Theo go home.” She looked at her mother next.
“You will sign over all parental rights and allow the Kitts to adopt him, and you will never contact any of them again.” Ember kept her face as neutral as possible as her mother studied her.
“Very well.” Aoife nodded. “That can be handled easily enough. I will have the solicitors draw up the paperwork, and it will be legally and magically binding.”
Helvig nodded in agreement. “Nothing a memory loss potion can’t handle.”
It was the answer she had wanted, but it still felt like she had been kicked in the gut.
Her mother had given up Theo so easily, without even thinking.
Had it been that easy for her to leave her behind?
To just walk away without a second thought?
Rage boiled in her veins, her magic sparking against her palms and fingertips.
She put on a pretty smile—another lie—as she looked at her mother and Helvig.
“Any more demands?” Helvig asked, as he leaned on the desk, fingers intertwined in front of him.
Demands, not requests—he knew what this was, and the look in his eyes told her he knew she would burn the world down for her family if she had to.
“I think that should do it.” Ember smiled sweetly.
Helvig nodded, and Aoife gave her another hug.
“We can talk business later,” Aoife waved her hand, “but how are you feeling about your first ball?”
She waved off their discussion like it was a bothersome gnat in her face, like she wasn’t about to lose her son.
Ember’s stomach flipped as she bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m quite nervous.” It wasn’t a lie—she wasn’t sure that she had ever been more nervous for anything in her life.
“Are you and Rowan going together?” Aoife asked.
“No,” Ember shook her head, “I’ve actually asked Collum to escort me.
A sort of peace offering after the way I’ve acted toward him the last few months.
” It was the next step in her plan—keep Collum close so he didn’t suspect anything.
She had asked him over that morning, asking first if he would take her to the castle and next if he would escort her to the ball, after giving her best apology, complete with puppy dog eyes and a trembling bottom lip.
“That sounds lovely, Ember,” Aoife cooed. “I’m sure you’re going to have a wonderful time.
She excused herself from the study, leaving Helvig and her mother to talk amongst themselves, and let Collum escort her back to the chateau. She ground her teeth as he held her arm, his face still a stone mask as they walked up the long drive.
“Thank you, Collum.” She smiled sweetly.
Collum nodded without a word and suddenly disappeared, leaving Ember alone as she walked through the walls into the garden.
She let herself stand there, for just a moment, breathing in the fresh air and feeling the sun warm her face.
There was a darkness that was alive in this city, something that lurked in the shadows, hungry and patient.
It thrived off the secrets and suffering, living in the deepest corners of the people’s souls where they didn’t even dare look.
It was a weed that infested every crack and crevice.
The people of this town were waiting—waiting on the darkness to flee, to die.
But Ember knew the truth about darkness like this, the kind that fed off dashed hopes and broken dreams. The truth was that it wouldn’t just disappear or die away.
It wouldn’t die unless they killed it themselves.