Chapter 35
“You fucking traitor,” Sloane breathed, allowing Elios to take her place at Jasper’s side as she stood. Tears shimmered in her eyes, freely falling as she looked upon the man who had been like a father to her. They were not of sadness, but of anger.
Betrayal.
It was a sensation I had been all too familiar with. Experiencing it at such an early age had done nothing to lessen its keen sting as it tore through flesh and grasped my lungs.
Sloane struggled to remain upright as she whispered, “How long?”
Ballard opened his mouth to speak, his voice faltering. “Sloane, I?—”
“How. Fucking. Long?”she seethed. Sparks danced at her fingertips, a manifestation of power so raw and potent it could incinerate everyone in this room in a matter of moments if she willed it to.
Leonora cackled, drawing Sloane’s attention away from Ballard. “Oh, sweetheart, I have had Ballard under my thumb for decades.” She walked toward him and patted his cheek, watching delightfully as he turned to her with all the hate he could muster. “When I met him, he had no direction or purpose, just a worthless, wandering witch. As an elder’s son, he could have been destined for greatness, but Ballard was content to live in his father’s shadow like an indolent child until I came along.”
“She dug her talons into a vulnerable young mind, twisting and molding it until they spilled long lost secrets which were never meant to reach the ears of anyone outside the covens.”
Ballard had spoken these words only days ago, the secret confession spilling from his lips like soured wine. There had been a time when I vowed to make the traitor pay, even knowing they had likely been coerced by my mother’s evil.
But I had never imagined it would be someone I knew, or that punishing such betrayal would bring me no joy.
“It did not take long for him to open up to me.” She pouted theatrically. “Just a poor, lonely woman who understood the shame of living in someone’s shadow. And suddenly, every bit of information I had been searching for across the centuries was in the palm of my hand.”
“You were never poor,” I spat through gritted teeth.
She smiled down at me. “Perception is different from reality, is it not? And it is all too easy to make those who are weak see what you wish.”
“So, you willingly gave her our secrets?” Sloane asked, unable to tear her gaze from her uncle. “And for what? Your opportunity to shine?”
Ballard’s face fell. “I have been trying to atone for my mistakes ever since I realized what I had done, Sloane. I swear I have. If you could just listen to me?—”
“There is no time to listen!” she shouted, shaking her head. “Because from where I am, it looks like you’re standing against us, Uncle.”
“I’m afraid that is my fault, darling,” Leonora purred, eyes brimming with excitement. Everything she ever wanted was within reach—all the scheming and death and lies—it had all led to this moment in time. She gestured between Ballard and Sloane. “Your uncle—is that, right? Well, he has been hiding you from me for a very long time. And you would have remained hidden if you had not answered a desperate call from an old friend.” Her gaze slid to Jasper, who had not moved.
“Hidden? What do I have to do with any of this?” Sloane asked, bewildered.
“You were the one thing she could use to control me,” Ballard said in a mournful whisper. “I tried to stand my ground, to refuse to give her information. For a while, I succeeded.” He looked away. “ But I would rather be executed for treason than lose you.”
“And that is what makes you weak,” my mother hissed, jerking her head back to him. “Love makes you weak. I would not have made it to where I am today if I had allowed such a frivolous emotion to rule me.”
Her words, while no surprise, still reminded me of an inescapable ache I had been attempting to soothe my whole life. All the pain, tears, and trauma had been due to her negligence and unquenchable thirst for power. All my pain was born from her lack of love.
I felt a presence beside me, a warmth which enveloped me in a comforting embrace. Calia had slowly extended her hand, placing it atop mine on the dirty concrete floor. I did not want to look at her, for her to see the aftermath of my own mother’s cruelty in my eyes.
But then I heard her voice in my mind, clear as day. If I had not already been on my knees, I would have fallen and wept.
Please, Rion,she begged. Look at me.
And though I knew I would regret it if we were caught, I did. I let her see everything—every broken, jagged, tortured, cruel piece of me. It was all I had retained in her absence, a glaring reminder that I had let my trauma consume me until I no longer recognized myself.
Her lips parted with a silent sigh, and I wondered if I had ever seen a more hauntingly beautiful creature. Even here and now, with blood on her skin and frightened rage in her heart, there was an eager defiance shining in her gaze.
She deserved so much more than I could offer her, and yet, despite everything that lurked in the dark memories of my past…
She had only wanted me.
More than that, she had never asked me to change. To her, I had been enough just the way I was. It was something I had not realized I was searching for. I had never known what it felt like to just simply be loved—without question or expectation.
Being loved by Calia had opened my eyes to how wrong I had been about so many things. She made me want to better myself, to not let the horrors of past dictate my future.
As if understanding all of this, she simply nodded, her voice sounding in my mind once more. I know, she whispered.
For just a moment, I forgot where we were or the dangers we faced, so focused on the sensation of her palm against mine. I took us away, casting an image of us—sitting alone on a quiet hill amidst a galaxy of stars. Instead of the sharp copper tang of blood, I inhaled the sweet mint scent of her skin. She was soft and warm as she leaned into my touch, and the only sound was my name leaving her lips as I trailed my own across her neck.
There is nothing I would not do,I told her mind-to-mind, to ensure you walk away unharmed.
Even if that meant I could not say the same for myself.
Escape would prove difficult with Ballard aiding my mother. He had rendered Jasper and I useless, turning our brains to mush within our skulls. The former lay slumped on the floor, still unmoving. Elios and Calia had seemed unaffected, unless he had simply not turned his gifts on them.
We were running on borrowed time, and I did not know how long Sloane could keep my mother talking. She might make it out unscathed if I could find a way to get Calia to her father. I was unsure where they could go—my mother would not give up so easily—but I knew he would not let anything happen to her.
I glanced over my shoulder to where Elios crouched next to Jasper. The god met my gaze and knew what I intended. His eyes softened, and though he bowed his head slightly, there was hesitation in the set of his shoulders.
“Just look at my son and the mess his love has made of this situation,” my mother said, brushing past Sloane and Ballard to where Calia and I sat together. She gripped my hair, pulling my scalp until all I could see was her.
Staring into her eyes was like staring into endless, empty pits of darkness—so devoid of light that hope had no chance. She knew no emotion other than greed, and it had corrupted every facet of her being.
Calia grabbed Leonora’s arm, attempting to pull her away, but my mother was too strong. Leonora threw her off and spit at Calia’s feet. “This is the woman you are ready to throw everything away for?” she asked, her lip curling in disgust. The way she perused Calia made me sick. “A fat, fae, whore whose first inclination for resolution was to jump from a window? Where was her love when you needed it most? Or is she just so unbearably stupid that she thought some noble sacrifice would be enough?”
“Let him go,” Calia snarled, pushing to her feet. I could barely make her out in the periphery of my vision, and I hated that Leonora’s hideous face would be the last thing I saw.
“Calia,” I warned, shaking my head. She refused to acknowledge me, standing her ground against a woman who had nothing to lose.
My mother laughed, tightening her grip. “Or what?” When Calia said nothing, Leonora smiled. “You are nothing, nobody, a bag of useful blood. A silly girl who believes she can make a difference. You think your love matters to anyone but you? Please, If I did not need you alive, I would have already killed you for being a constant nuisance.”
“You claim to know what it is like to be helpless,” Calia said, softening her tone. “Then why not try to use your station to make the world a better place? You have the ability to make sure other women never have to feel like you did.”
Leonora scoffed. “I was not helpless. I was powerless. I had all the ambition, all the drive of those in higher stations and yet, I was repeatedly overlooked.” She clicked her tongue, looking at me. “Your father was the worst, you know. Every night, he would come home and complain about the state of the world, and when I would tell him what needed to be done, he told me that violence was not the answer—another weak-hearted man made soft by love.”
“You can’t fight violence with violence and hope to win,” Calia said, flicking her gaze behind us. “At some point, the path of least resistance needs to be taken.”
“That is what those who are weak say,” Leonora snarled. “And I was tired of being weak—forced to cower indoors and watch the rest of the world prosper while we were cast in endless, inescapable darkness. The path of least resistance?”—she barked out a cruel laugh—“There is no resistance from the dead. I wanted to walk into a room and have those around me tremble. I wanted to watch them bow at my feet, ensuring I would never be looked down upon again. It could have been different without all your incessant meddling. I could have been respected, revered. But instead, I suppose fear will do just as well.” My mother looked away, clenching her jaw. “My husband was useless when we could have had it all. He just stood by in the darkness with the rest of them, doing nothing to help our people rise to power when he had it at all his fingertips.”
“So you killed him?” I spat, twisting my head in her grasp. Sloane and Calia both cried out as Ballard stepped forward, hands outstretched, sending wave after wave of searing agony crashing through me. My body convulsed, held upright only by my mother’s iron-fisted grip.
Her eyes flashed with surprise before her scowl morphed into a smirk. “Ah, I see you must have finally found Corvina’s journal. It was a pity she had to die. I saw such promise in her. Before, of course, I found she had been working for the Vail all along. She was craftier than I gave her credit for—I looked for that godsdamned book for months.” She must have felt me wince at the sound of Corvina’s name because her face lit up with an expression close to happiness. “I enjoyed watching you kill her, you know. It was so easy to compel you to take more than needed, to force you to drain every ounce of blood from her body until only a husk remained. Could you taste it in her blood when she finally died? Or were you too distracted by her clawing at you and trying to escape the terror of being slowly, brutally murdered by her own husband?”
“Fuck you,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Your father confronted me about it, scenting my perfume amidst her blood. He knew what I had done. Disappointing, that it took so long for him to grow a spine. He threatened to kill me!” she said incredulously. “So, it was an easy decision to lace his evening whiskey with belladonna. It was for the best, you see, finally having an excuse to be through with him. He enabled your weakness, nearly undoing all the hard work I put into hardening you when you were younger?—”
Calia hurled toward us without warning, colliding with my mother with a force that sent all of us crashing to the floor. My head cracked against the hard surface, stars dancing behind my eyes as I attempted to understand what was happening.
A figure loomed above me, placing their hand against my cheek. Urgent whispers told me I needed to get up and focus, but I could not bring myself fully to the present.
Elios stormed in front of me, stalking toward Ballard with a vengeance. Each step he took rattled the ground, cementing the witch’s fate.
“Please understand—” But Ballard’s words broke off in a choked gurgle as Elios curled his fingers around the witch’s throat.
“I understand more than you know, what we do to keep our family safe. It is what has kept you alive thus far.” He sent the witch flying backward, his body landing on the floor with a heavy thud. Ballard scrambled to his feet in time to deflect Elios’ fist.
“Get up, you bastard,” Sloane cursed, attempting to pull me to my feet. “I need you to get up!”
She turned, looking over her shoulder when I did not rise, drawing my attention to where Calia had Leonora pinned beneath her. My mother struggled to get free, bucking her hips in an attempt to throw Calia from her. My wife, ever the fighter, clung tighter.
She placed her hands around Leonora’s throat, cutting off the string of curses which poured from my mother’s lips. Calia’s beautiful laugh echoed through the room. “I am quite happy to be a fat, fae whore,” she said, watching Leonora try to free herself.
Sloane pressed one hand to my cheek and the other to my chest, bringing my attention back to her. “Focus, Rion,” she said, a shade gentler. Blue light flared from her fingertips, spreading throughout my body as she chanted soft words I did not understand. Warmth spread from my extremities, sending what felt like flurries of electric currents racing through my veins.
“Jasper?” I mumbled, focusing on the prone figure near the door.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly, eyes growing wide as she increased her power. Her voice broke as she whispered it again and again.
I placed my hand atop hers, attempting to pull it away from me. “Go to him,” I groaned. “He needs you. I will be fine.”
Sloane hesitated only for a moment before scrambling to my friend’s side. She rolled him over, leaning forward and placing her hands over his heart. Frantic words spilled from her lips as power exploded out of her, casting the room in an eerie blue glow.
The world spun as I attempted to rise, falling again to my knees. Calia turned over her shoulder, watching me with concern and indecision.
The momentary lapse was all my mother needed.
Leonora grasped Calia’s hair and tugged, breaking Calia’s concentration and grip on her throat. She fell back against the floor, chest heaving as the air whooshed from her lungs, and my mother descended upon her.
Before I could cry out, Leonora met my gaze and sunk her teeth into Calia’s neck.