Chapter 34
“UH-UH,” CAME MY mind-blowing argument. “There’s no way.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Nope, no.” I dropped my head into my hands, shaking it. “It’s not possible, because my mom is human, and if she had a fae last name, that’d mean that she . . .”
“Is fae,” Soren finished for me when I couldn’t.
“But she’s not though.”
“Are you sure?”
I swallowed, looking up at him.
No.
I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Racking my brain to remember exactly what Caius had said last night, I processed out loud.
“Caius knew all that stuff about Mom because of Dad, which doesn’t make sense.
” A memory from when I’d briefly spoken to Dad in the tunnels came back.
“He didn’t seem surprised about the fae, the way Rissa and Olive were . . .” That should’ve been a red flag.
I groaned when it hit me.
Even if Dad had somehow made it up, which was highly unlikely, Soren had written the exact same name in his logbook.
He waited patiently.
I lifted my pounding head wearily. “Your logbook.” I chose my words carefully to avoid saying anything about Mom having been taken or the particular fae who’d taken her. “It said, ‘Maeve Donovan, previously Maeve Thorneveil.’ It even said the Grimhollow clan.”
His forehead wrinkled. “I would certainly remember if I’d met a member of the Grimhollow clan.”
“Well, her name is in there.”
Soren’s frown deepened and he sat back. “I wonder how that escaped me,” he said, almost to himself.
“It was a little over a week ago.”
His frown remained for a moment, and then he straightened. “If Gwen was on duty when your mother came through, the name would be unfamiliar to her, since she’s not from either court.”
“So . . . my mom is actually fae?”
I needed to hear him repeat it.
It didn’t feel real.
“Not merely a fae, Brynn. She’s from one of the most influential families in the Shadow Court.”
Okay. Mom was fae. Mom was super important. Mom had signed some contract where she had to leave us to go . . . home, apparently. And now . . . “Do you think she knows that my dad and sisters were taken?” I whispered. “Do you think she . . . did it?”
“I highly doubt it,” Soren replied quickly. “You said there was a week between their disappearances?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t do any of the typical thinking gestures that humans would do, like stroke his chin or tug on his hair, but he got extremely still as he stared at the wall. “And your father seemed to know about the fae?”
“I’m not sure, but . . . if he knew Mom’s real name, then he probably did . . . right?”
Soren nodded slightly to himself. “If that’s the case, then perhaps your father was conducting his own search for your mother, unbeknownst to you. Perhaps he accidentally drew the attention of the fae that like to coerce humans across the veil.”
“But that doesn’t explain why they—” I choked and stopped, unable to say, took Mom in the first place.
Soren drew a deep breath, seeming tense, not meeting my eyes. “The clan your mother is from . . .”
“The Grimhollow one?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.
“Yes.” He pressed his lips together. “They’re . . . known for hating humans.”
My brows rose, but he wasn’t finished.
“If they allowed your mother to come to the human world, it’s almost guaranteed it was temporary, likely under a contract of some sort that would require her to return.”
Memories flashed back at his words. Mom had seemed to know her kidnappers.
They’d specifically mentioned her having a contract with them.
When I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to picture that day, one thing in particular that she’d said floated to the surface: I thought I’d have a little more time.
“I think you’re right,” I whispered as I opened my eyes to frown at him. “Does that mean my mom has no idea they came for the rest of us?”
“I can’t say for certain.” Soren’s distant gaze refocused on me. “But Caius is right about not wanting to get on the Grimhollow’s bad side. I highly doubt anyone in court would take her family intentionally.”
Great. So this whole thing was one big accident?
I found myself angry at Mom for not telling us. Not just about whatever contract she’d signed, but about the fact that she wasn’t even human—that her own kids weren’t fully human. That I wasn’t just human . . .
“I’m part fae.” I whispered it like a secret.
“It makes sense.” Soren nodded to himself.
“You don’t react as strongly to the naming magic.
” He ticked each thing off on his fingers as he listed them.
“The glamours hold longer than they usually would for a human. You were able to remember despite the magic preventing you from speaking. Overall, you seem to have an affinity for our world, whereas most humans struggle.”
It was a lot of evidence.
“I think I actually saw through a glamour . . .” I bit my lip, eyes darting to his. “Dad saw police officers when Ivywren and the other one showed up, but I could see who they really were the whole time.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Does that mean I’d be able to see through yours too?”
With a cocky smile, he shook his head. “No. Ivywren isn’t skilled at glamours. She can only enthrall humans. Nevertheless, it’s still impressive that you saw past it.”
“So, I’m half human and half fae.” Repeating it didn’t make it more believable. I didn’t feel any different.
“A halfling.” Soren’s lips quirked up, and his eyes held a teasing glint.
“No way!” Lore’s cheer interrupted from the door as she came in. “I knew there was something about you!”
“You’re one of us,” Peregrin said with a bashful smile, ducking his head under the hanging pots as he moved toward the kitchen to grab some breakfast trays and bring them over. Lore took them, and he went back for plates.
His words hit me like a truck. One of us.
Not really, though, since I was also human.
Gwen poked Julian in a way that made him squeak as she squeezed past him into the room. “If you’re trying to glamour yourself as a door, you’re failing.”
“Ha.” Julian huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “I’m too stunned by this news to simply waltz into the room like some folk might.”
“I can be stunned and not lose my motor skills,” Gwen replied with a shrug. “Speaking of which . . .” She turned to me. “Exciting discoveries are being made, hmm?”
“That’s one way to put it.” I shook my head. Pushing up from the table before they could see the tears blurring my vision, I mumbled, “Excuse me for a minute.”
I took the tunnel to the library but stopped halfway to sink down against the stone wall in the darkest part where the tunnel curved. I wrapped my arms around my legs, pressing my face into them.
A light touch on my arm made me startle.
“Is everything all right?” Soren asked when I looked up.
His concern made my eyes fill up all over again, and I nodded. I didn’t want him to see me like this. “I just need a second.”
Instead of leaving, he frowned.
Despite his formal clothing and stiff posture, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position beside me. “Something upset you.”
I sighed. “It just all makes sense now.”
He leaned forward. “What makes sense?”
Swiping at one of the tears that had escaped, I sniffed. I’d never really said how I felt out loud before. It was strange to tell him. The words came slow, like they were being pulled out of me. “I never felt like I belonged anywhere, you know? And now it makes sense . . . because I don’t.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
I shrugged. “I might have fae blood, but I obviously would never pass for a fae and have no idea how to survive here. And now I know why I never fit in back home, because I don’t belong there either.” Aware of how pitiful I sounded, I couldn’t meet his eyes.
He didn’t let me wallow though. “Being both human and fae gives you a foothold in both worlds, Brynn.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Quite literally impossible,” he snapped.
The harsh tone startled me into looking up.
His lowered brows and stern expression softened as he sighed and leaned back against the wall. “You have sisters, do you not?”
I frowned at the mention of Rissa and Olive, because he’d met them, so why would he ask that? “Yeah.”
“Do you believe they also do not belong?”
I saw where he was going with this. Twisting my lips, I snorted softly. But he waited for an answer, so finally, I whispered, “No.”
Olive was the queen bee in her class, and Rissa had a small but tight group of close friends.
Soren tapped one finger on his knee as he watched my face. “Since the day we met, you’ve seemed concerned with what others think of you. How do you not realize that their opinions don’t matter? That you’re perfect just the way you are?”
Swallowing, I avoided his gaze.
I couldn’t pinpoint how, but that had to be fae misdirection, because it wasn’t true.
He pushed off the wall to stand, dusting off his pants, though the stone floor wasn’t really dirty. Turning to the kitchen, he murmured, “I’ll fill them in on what we’ve learned about your family, and you can rejoin us when you’re ready.”
I nodded.
After I’d wiped my face and spent another minute drawing in one deep breath after another, I made my way back down the tunnel and slipped into the kitchen as Soren was saying, “We need Ivywren’s blood, if we have it?”
“I’ll go check our supplies now.” Julian hopped up, leaving a half-eaten plate behind, passing me with a softer smile as he rushed down the tunnel.
Pulling out the empty chair beside him, Peregrin offered me the last cinnamon roll as I sat back down. “You look like you need it.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I wasn’t about to say no.
“So,” Gwen said, cracking her knuckles. “Where should we begin?”
My throat tightened.
I hadn’t expected any of them to help.
Soren hesitated, turning to me. “This is the part where we do the brain picking. If you’d rather not be involved, I’d understand.”
I blinked at him. “The brain . . . what?”
“We’ll pick through ideas, good and bad, and see what fits the situation.”
A snort slipped out. “Do you mean brainstorming?”