Chapter 9 #2
“Thank you, Slade,” Amanti told him. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Good to see you back on your feet, Aunt.” He hugged her, exchanged a few words with the others, and left.
“Rydian,” Amanti said into the tense silence. “She can’t do what’s needed if she doesn’t understand. Tell her.”
I closed my eyes for half a second. When I opened them, Aurelia was still watching me, jaw set, firelight tracing the planes of her face.
Waiting.
Gods, I had wanted to do a better job of this part. Instead, I’d made it all worse.
“The Midnight Court isn’t what you think,” I said quietly. “The reason no one came to aid Concordia or Sevanwinds is because they can’t.”
“What do you mean they can’t? Are their hands tied behind their backs? Are they cursed to perpetual slumber like my people?”
“Not quite like Summer, but in a manner of speaking, yes, they are trapped.”
The fight in her eyes turned to wariness. “By whom?”
I sighed, knowing that once I put the truth between us, there’d be no taking it back. It would be a barrier, unbreakable, that would only create more distance. But she needed to know.
“Long before the Great War, the gods favored the Midnight fae, gifted them, and imbued them with dark magic that rivaled any other kingdom in Menryth. We respected that power and were careful about how it was wielded. We kept to ourselves. Nurtured our own people. Allowed the rest of the realm to rule their own lands how they saw fit. Ten years ago, those same gods who’d preserved our power threatened to take it away again. ”
“Why?”
“In the aftermath of the Great War, the gods struck a precarious truce that lasted centuries. Three decades ago, another power rose. A new one that violated that truce, threatening to plunge the realm into pure darkness as a result.”
“Heliconia,” Aurelia said, anguish brimming in her gaze now.
“So, the gods came to us and made a new deal,” I continued. “One that ensured the survival of the realm—and our kingdom with it.”
“What kind of deal?” Aurelia asked warily.
“The Midnight heir swore an oath to the gods.” Keres scowled, as she always did about this part of the story. But I ignored her. What was done was done. We could only go forward now.
“What oath?” Aurelia demanded.
“A blood vow to protect and fight for the one fae who would prove powerful enough to stop the rise of evil and destruction. Someone chosen by the gods themselves. But until such time, in order to preserve our power and our people for the moment they were needed most, the gates to our kingdom were sealed shut. And they remain so until the Chosen One we’ve been waiting for unlocks them and calls us to war. ”
Aurelia paled.
“And so, we wait, our people locked inside their kingdom until it’s time,” I told her quietly, watching as she processed it all.
Her part in it.
What it all meant.
What she was expected to do.
“Are they awake?” Aurelia’s question broke the silence—and my heart.
I nodded, knowing she was thinking of her own family. “Yes. They are awake and alive and well inside the walls.”
Keres and the others didn’t say a word, but I knew they were all biting back the rest of that truth: Our families were inside the walls, but we remained out here.
“That’s good.” Aurelia’s eyes searched mine for a long moment, as if she could find another meaning there, some softer truth. But there wasn’t one.
“Which gods sealed the gate?”
I felt the others’ eyes on me, but I ignored them, not letting my gaze waver in this moment. It was one of the questions I knew would ruin things between us. Even so, I found myself relieved this was the one she’d chosen to ask.
“Was it the Fates?” she pressed. “Because this tattoo they gave me—”
“It wasn’t the Fates,” I told her. “And they’re not who gave you that tattoo either.”
“What are you talking about?” She shook her head. “The morning after the curse, I woke up with this. It’s a symbol of the gifts they bestowed—”
“The Fates don’t possess the gift of furyfire,” Keres said.
Aurelia frowned, reaching up to touch the inked mark on her neck. Her gaze cut to Amanti. “You told me—”
“You assumed,” Amanti cut in gently.
Aurelia’s hands fisted. Black smoke escaped.
“Princess,” Keres warned.
“I know,” Aurelia snapped. She forced her fists open, and the magic winked out. A moment later, her breathing calmed.
I shot a look at Keres, impressed.
The fae warrior simply crossed her arms.
“The tattoo is the gods’ mark for their Chosen One,” Keres said into the silence. “It’s imbued with their power. Part of their whole mission to right the balance or whatever.”
Daegel muttered something at her, but she threw up her hands, saying, “If everyone else is going to tiptoe around it, what do you expect me to do? She deserves to know. She’s not made of glass.”
Aurelia shot me a pointed look. “Glad someone thinks so.”
“Aurelia,” I began.
“Which gods,” she said again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Keres open her mouth. But I beat her to it, taking the fallout onto my own shoulders as I said, “The Furiosities.”
Aurelia swallowed hard. Then nodded slowly. I braced myself for furyfire or some weapon aimed at my head. But she didn’t even move.
The silence stretched.
The others just waited, but I remained tense, prepared for a fight. An interrogation. An inferno.
Finally, she looked at me and said, “What happened to your face?”
Thorne snorted loud enough for it to echo off the walls.