Chapter 21 #2
“No,” he said, bitterly, the gold in his eyes glittering as he glared over his shoulder at her. “You did this for your daughter, and nothing more.”
Tears lined her lashes, her mask slipping away. “How...?” She paused, squeezing her eyes shut and gathering herself—when she spoke again, her voice didn’t waver. “How do you know about my daughter?”
Mother be damned.
Flashes of the Little Witch played in his mind. The glimmer in her amber stare. The music of her voice, even when she feared for her life. He would never forget the way she looked before she burned him, that beautiful, vicious creature.
There was no way he’d share what happened that night with Aedlin. “Cillian knew,” he offered, the words true enough.
Aedlin gasped, blood draining from her face. “That bastard told you her secret?”
“I knew what he knew.” Zadriel bared his teeth. An ache burned in his chest, the sting of Cillian’s death too fresh—how dare she call him a bastard.
Aedlin’s upper lip curled, her focus trained on his sharp canines. Wrapping her arms around Darius, she inched away until her back hit the wall. “What else did he—”
“What Cillian shared with me isn’t what matters,” he seethed.
“What matters is you understand the people who grew up in the system your family is responsible for, who suffered the aftermath of your decisions, have no choice but to protect themselves. You don’t trust someone who would attack so easily?
They can’t trust anyone they don’t know.
If you aren’t a Halfling, they have no way of knowing you’re safe.
” He closed the distance between them, fists clenched at his sides.
“There is no room for blind trust when a mistake can cost your freedom or your life. Something, I would think, you’re learning to understand. ”
“You speak as if this was all my doing, Fae!” Aedlin shrieked, and Darius shrieked louder.
“As if I alone held all the power in my hands. The Council wouldn’t allow me to ascend the throne without a husband.
A husband who, bless his departed soul, was never interested in ruling.
” Aedlin bounced Darius and paced as best she could in the limited space, kicking up pine needles and snow as she wore a path in the ground.
“Those damned nobles made my reign a nightmare, but I fought for everything I accomplished, pushing back against their will when I could, especially when it came to saving my daughter from the Laws. There was only so much I could do... and it was never enough. I was never enough. Especially when Kalyan passed.” As soon as the words slipped free, Aedlin halted.
Her lower lip wobbled, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“Then they made me marry that horrible man...”
Zadriel clenched his teeth, jaw aching. Without thought, he pressed his hand to his chest, feeling for the pendant that lay beneath, his and Cillian’s blood crusting against the glass. “Don’t speak of my brother that way.”
“Whatever he was to you, I don’t care,” Aedlin said, a haunted look on her face.
“The Council demanded a king. It was that or our heads—they wouldn’t allow us a moment to grieve.
” Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to go on.
“Imagine their fury when Mora refused to marry Dother and they were stuck with me as queen.”
Darius whimpered and chewed on his fist, staring up at his mother with watery eyes.
There was no warmth on her face when she looked at him.
“I saved my daughter from a burden she did not wish to bear. Then, day by day, any power I had was stripped away from me, all while she was... gone.” Fury burned in her amber gaze when she glared up at him. “I’m glad Dother’s dead.”
The scars on Zadriel’s arms stretched uncomfortably, tension squeezing his muscles tight. “Did you kill him?”
Aedlin swallowed. “No.”
The words did nothing to calm him—how could he know if they were true?
A deep, menacing growl rumbled in Zadriel’s throat, but then Aedlin flinched, her hold on Darius tightening.
His face fell. Gods, he was being a brute.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. Lavender wrapped in embers tickled his nose, the scent calming the frantic beat of his heart. “If not you, then how did Cillian...”
The words died on his tongue—Zadriel couldn’t bring himself to ask about his brother’s end.
The wound was too fresh. Even now, the threads of Brennan’s curse pulsed beneath his skin, a phantom ache clinging to his bones.
He’d never forget the pain of losing Cillian...
yet, he couldn’t bring himself to ask how it happened.
“Never mind,” he muttered, adjusting the packs on his shoulder and turning away.
“Do not speak ill of my brother again. If you have no kind words to offer, do not speak of him at all.”
As he walked toward the archway leading outside, Aedlin attempted to follow. “What do you want from me?” she asked quietly.
Despite the shame burrowing beneath his flesh, Zadriel forced himself to look back at her. “There’s nothing you can do to absolve yourself of your sins, Aedlin. The Crown has fallen. Your power is gone. Help to make things better now, starting with accepting Aoife and helping me bring her to Eden.”
“Wait!” Aedlin called after him, but Zadriel didn’t stop.
Snow crunched beneath his boots, his breath dancing in the cool air, vapors curling around his lips before they dissipated.
He pulled his hood over his head and quickened his pace, weaving through the trees until he knew Aedlin could no longer see him.
She’d be there when he returned. He was certain of it.
The heavy bags he carried had all their food and supplies—she and Darius wouldn’t make it far without them.
He was a bastard for leaving her behind with nothing, but if that meant he didn’t bleed in agony in the snow until she came back or he somehow crawled to Eden, so be it.