50
Keltania
We’re almost back to Aphelian’s cottage when Gensted slows his pace. He came without putting up a fight, even let me bind his hands. He carefully steps over a fallen tree, then stops. “Valen insinuated that you had something to tell me.”
“Keep moving.” I gently redirect him toward the path and give a light push.
He obeys, but his pace is slower than before. Stalling. How far am I willing to take this to keep up the ruse?
“I have no quarrel with Aphelian,” he says. “Except for the obvious. I can’t imagine what she wants with me.”
I don’t answer, instead nudging him from behind to move a bit faster.
He does—for several steps—then stops again. Turning, he tilts his head and frowns. The corner of his mouth curves as the top lifts just a bit. It’s the same expression I’ve made my whole life. How had I not seen the resemblance before now? How does he not see it?
“Is she planning to kill me?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. Obviously I won’t let it happen. If Aphelian attempts to end Gensted’s life, I’ll be forced to give up the charade and step in. But I don’t feel like that’s the reason she’s taken him. He must be the fire the Omen of Ice is meant to embrace—but how? If Valen is the Omen of Ice like some believe, why take Gensted away from him? “All I know is that she…has a plan.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“She’s going to kill thousands.” He starts walking again, keeping pace with me as we move through the snow. He tries to hide that he’s shivering in the cold. I am, too. Whatever Aphelian did to disconnect me from Valen seems to have taken my resistance with it. “I know you, Tania. You don’t want that.”
As we reach the tree cottage, I say, “Maybe it doesn’t matter what I want.”
He steps between me and the tree. “What you want is all that matters.” Straightening, he squares his shoulders and stands rigid. “Whatever comes next, I want you to know that it’s been an honor.”
I roll my eyes and give him a shove toward the door. Typical Fae. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
When we step through, Gensted’s reaction is similar to my own earlier. He whistles and walks toward the center of the room. “Gods above, I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“And you likely never will again.” Aphelian comes into the room. She’s changed. She’s now wearing ornate black leathers decorated in etched green vines—traditional druid ceremony armor, almost exactly like she was wearing when we met in the Dream. “I’m a bit surprised you brought him.”
“It’s what you requested, isn’t it? You said you needed him, right?” I’m proud of myself for keeping the irritation from my voice. “To prove that I’m on your side? To continue with this… mission ?”
Aphelian looks between Gensted and me, then nods. “It is. And you’ve mostly done just that.”
“Mostly?” This time I fail to keep my anger at bay. “What else do you want from me?”
“I want you by my side as I complete something set in motion a thousand years ago.” She comes to stand between Gensted and me. “Then I want you to take the Autumn throne.”
“What?” Gensted and I say at the same time.
I stare at her in horror as Gensted starts to laugh. “You— She—I—” He’s wheezing, and after spending a moment doubled over and hysterical, he manages to catch his breath. “Why the hell would you think Tania has a right to my throne?”
Aphelian chuckles. “Would you like me to tell him the happy news? Or would you prefer to do it yourself?”
“Is this absolutely necessary?” I grab Gensted’s arm and direct him to a chair in the corner of the room. I don’t want to do it this way. She’s turning something valuable that I found, something amazing, into a weapon. Killing yet another chance at connection. “Don’t you have more important things to do besides taunting Fae?”
Aphelian clucks her tongue and shakes her head once. “Apparently, you didn’t inherit your sense of humor from me.”
Gensted’s eyes go wide. “Inherit—”
“She’s my mother,” I say flatly, hoping that revelation will be enough.
“I am. And would you like to guess who her father is?”
Gensted looks between us and rolls his eyes. “Surely you’re not suggesting—”
“Gensted Emberbane, let me formally introduce you to Lily Rose. Your half sister.”
He stares at her for a moment before bursting into another round of hysterical laughter. She lets him finish, waiting patiently as he nearly knocks himself off the chair. When he’s finally done, he looks at me.
I can tell the exact moment he sees what I did back at the estate. The oddly subtle resemblance. How he told me I reminded him of his uncle’s stubbornness. Remarking how well I’d fit into the Autumn Court with my fire-red hair and temperament. “It’s impossible.”
“Magic makes everything possible,” I say softly.
“It does,” he agrees and turns to Aphelian. “And we’re going to use it to destroy you.”
“Is that so?” Aphelian’s expression hardens. She stands and stalks across to where Gensted sits. Gripping his face, she jerks his head up. “Do you really believe I would have let you gather and reacquire your magic if I thought for even a moment you stood a chance against me?”
Valen was right. She’s been a step ahead of us the entire time.
“Suria so helpfully suggested you ingest the tear. That connected us, allowed us to communicate. Then, when I heard you were reuniting the other courts in order to reinstate their magic, well… You did exactly as I hoped. I allowed it because I needed Autumn fire.”
“I don’t understand…” I school my expression, careful not to show her the concern bubbling in my gut. I don’t like the way she’s looking at him. It’s a little bit greedy and a little bit unhinged. “Why would you need fire magic?”
“I don’t—you do.”
“Me?”
“Did you know that long before my time, druids could see the future?” She clasps her hands behind her back and begins to pace the room. “Not all, of course. But there were special ones, usually just one or so a generation. Our seers were where most of the Fae prophecies come from, in fact.”
Gensted snorts. “Is that supposed to be impressive?”
Aphelian glares at him and snaps her fingers. Vines push through the mossy floor, wind their way up the chair, then wrap around him, stopping just shy of his mouth.
“My grandmother was the last of the seers, and she was the one who gave the Fae the Omen of Ice prophecy.”
“So who is it, then?” She’s got no reason to lie to me at this point. It won’t gain her anything. “Is it really Valen?”
She laughs. “I understand why those simple Fae believe it’s him, but no. It was never about Valen. They would have known that if we’d given them the entire prediction.”
“There’s more to the prophecy?”
She waggles her brows. “There’s always more. The main gist is correct. The vision foretold a great shift to the winter Fae. A cataclysmic force that would either wipe them and their way of life from Derriga—or change it. But ice was only part of it.”
That bubble of concern for Gensted blooms into an ember of panic. Forget the way she’s looking at him. Now, the way she’s watching me chills me to the core.
“The prophecy showed an omen of ice and fire. On her deathbed, my grandmother told me that I would be the one to bring about this cataclysm. That it would fall on me to see it through. To see that it was born .”
“That’s…” I shake my head, momentarily forgetting why I’m here. “That’s impossible!”
“Is it? We were playthings to the Fae back then. Sources of amusement and wicked experimentation. My grandmother saw a light. She saw our salvation.” She stops pacing and takes my hand. “She saw you .”
I yank my hand from hers and stagger away. “Me? You think that I’m the Omen of Ice?”
“No. You’re the Omen of Ice and Fire.”
“I can’t be. This is just another trick.”
“You know in your heart that it’s true. I seduced Avastad and bore a child with the ability to wield fire magic. Though that wasn’t my initial plan. I intended to bear Servis’s child. A Winter-born half Fae to whom I would gift fire magic by using the rebirth sigil. My intent was to kill Avastad to gain his power. But…”
“But you screwed it up?” I can’t keep the venom from my voice.
“I did,” she says softly. “I went against everything that I believed, and I fell in love with Servis. For the first time in my life, I considered giving up on my grandmother’s vision. Then he betrayed me…” Her expression hitches, morphing into something dark and twisted. “I had to change my plan, obviously. I seduced Avastad and bore a child with fire magic in her veins.”
“She’s lying, Tania. She—she has to be. My father would never have allowed it,” Gensted says with a growl. He flashes me an apologetic frown, then adds, “A human-Fae hybrid would have been viewed as an abomination in his time…”
“I’m not lying,” she says. “But he is correct about his father. Avastad wouldn’t allow it. Fae magic was fading by then. I needed Winter magic, but it was all but gone.” She glares at Gensted. She’s seeing his father, and the hate in her eyes? It’s far greater than anything I’ve seen her feel for Servis. “Avastad found out I was pregnant and hunted me, determined to destroy a child he deemed unworthy of his blood. You were a means to fulfill a prophecy, but I loved you. I couldn’t let him hurt you, so I stashed you away until it was safe again. Until Winter magic started to return.”
“And then what?”
She frowns. “Servis’s betrayal destroyed me. I wanted to let it go, to get back on my destiny’s path…but I couldn’t. I tried to take his life, and in exchange, he took mine.”
“By binding you to his ancestors.”
“Yes. Centuries later, I met Liani and formed my plan. From the moment Valen showed up at the estate, I knew what I would groom you to do. I bargained with Liani. Told her I would give Valen’s magic to her. I woke you, raised you as an Aphelian, and unleashed you on him.” Her lips peel back in a wicked snarl. “All you had to do was kill him! The frost magic would have been yours, free and clear.”
“If I’d killed him, it would have killed me, too.” I stalk toward her. “How the hell would that have worked for your prophecy?”
“As I told you earlier, had you killed him then, before your Fae side was unlocked, the rebirth sigil would have saved your life.”
Everything in my life—in Valen’s—has been controlled by Aphelian. The weight of it, the devastating truth, makes it hard to breathe.
“The only thing left is for Gensted to use his magic on you. It will activate your dormant court magic. Then, with your birthright and Valen’s frost magic, you will imprison Valen in the Dream and destroy the Winter Fae.”
If she truly loves me—even in her own sick way—how could she ask me to do this? How could she twist the connection she insists we have?
“This is your destiny. It has been since long before you were ever born.”
“Bullshit!” Druids were raised to believe in things like visions and prophecies. I studied and learned and was as devoted as the next initiate. But recently I’ve been seeing things differently. Learning that Aphelian wasn’t the hero of our story changed things.
It changed me.
“You’re no better than Servis,” I yell at her. “You intend to use me as a tool, the same as he did you. The same way you tried to convince me Valen wanted to use me. But it was you all along.”
I stretch my hand to Gensted and make a fist. The vines binding him unravel and sink back into the earth. If she wants me to have fire, fine. I have no intention of letting her use it, though. “Do it.”
He stands and spreads his arms, a wicked smirk on his face. Flames engulf his entire body. With a grin, he stretches his arm out, his fire swallowing me.
“I am no one’s weapon but my own!”
I’m being incinerated. Every inch of my body, every nerve, is being burned away in an almost surreal amount of agony. A crushing weight brings me to my knees, an unseen force holding me there. There’s a sound like sizzling. Something crackles, and I swear I hear snapping bones.
Someone screams. It could be Gensted. Maybe it’s me. It could even be Aphelian. Maybe the flames have spread and she’s being burned away just like I am. Static fills my ears, and the pain it brings with it is all-encompassing.
Just when I’m sure there’s nothing left of me, that I’m about to take my last breath, the pain begins to change. It becomes a tingle in my knees that spreads down to my toes and back up, snaking its way throughout my entire body. A cooling balm that soothes the charred parts of me. It becomes empowering.
It becomes mine.