Chapter 8 #2
“He wants the jewels I stole from him. The Mist King used precious stones to amplify his power. He experimented with corpses and dark souls in his pursuit of true immortality—and came frighteningly close. The Summer King and I suspected he couldn’t be killed, not completely, so we stripped him of his jewels and buried them deep at the heart of the Islantide.
The jewels were sealed away, but we told the world they’d been destroyed. ”
She exhales, her shoulders sagging. “I hoped that, given enough centuries, the shard of his soul that had survived might have withered into nothing.” Her eyes lift to mine. “I was wrong.”
“If he isn’t dead,” I say slowly, “how did you remarry?”
Fae marriages are until death.
“I didn’t,” she replies. “Not truly. It was a pretense, agreed upon to secure alliances. Shadowlands unions aren’t as public, so no one knew. Before you.”
“Me?”
“You’re the only one I’ve told.” She grips her cup tighter. “If something happens to me—”
My heart slams. “Don’t say that.”
She cups my cheek. “If I don’t return before the next moon, you need to find a mirror and summon the Shadow King. Tell him about Armand. Tell him that only the last drop of Bloodsinger blood can open the jewels’ tomb.”
My stomach plummets as she goes on. “Armand thinks that means my blood and my children’s blood—any and all of my descendants bearing the name.
Let him believe it. It will keep him occupied and buy us time.
” Her gaze sharpens. “But you must tell Damian Sombra that Morrigan bore a child. He must protect her at all costs. She is the sole key to Armand’s cursed treasure. ”
“But you’re Mabel Bloodsinger,” I whisper. “The last Dark Queen of the Red Forest. The most powerful witch to ever live. You can tell him all of this yourself.”
That earns me a thin, weary smile.
“Be that as it may, I’m getting old. And I can’t protect you outside this house, not until I find some answers. I have to go back to Faerie. You should stay here until I return.”
A boulder of nerves crushes my chest. “I have a job. A fiancé. A wedding to plan—”
Mabel pats my shoulder. “You won’t have any of that if you die, my darling.
I told you the day would come when we’d have to fight for our lives.
I just didn’t expect it to come so soon.
The reavers tasted your blood. If you go home, you’ll lead them straight to your mortal lover.
You’ll endanger him and his family. They have no idea Faerie exists, let alone how to defend themselves against its magic. ”
My heart races. She’s right, and I hate it. She’s been trying to pull me deeper into coven affairs for years, and now I can’t go back to my life at all. Funny how that worked out.
“Nick texted me,” I say. “He plans to fly home next week.”
Nick should be the one to take over the coven. He’s hungry for it.
Her lips press together. “Nickolas must stay put until we know more.”
The knee-jerk reaction to deny it all rises again. I understand what she’s saying, but I desperately, maddeningly don’t want it to be true. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”
The corners of her eyes wrinkle. “Then you need to stop drinking your Angelica tea—and cancel that wedding for good.”
Both parts of that sentence floor me, so I tackle them one at a time. “You said I should never stop drinking it.”
Truth be told, I haven’t been as disciplined in drinking it the last couple of days. I skipped it the night Kerri died and the next morning, too. Is that why I was able to cast the spell? Because I didn’t have as much Angelica in my system?
Mabel gathers my hands in hers. “The time has come for you to choose: do you belong here, with mortals? Or are you ready to embrace your magic? Because you can’t accompany me to Faerie without it.”
“Me? Going to Faerie?” I take a step back, shaking my head. “I barely have any magic at all.”
Not long ago, I would’ve said none, but the effects of the séance shook me to my core.
“Maxine, you have more powers than you remember. I shielded you from them to protect you, but I can’t coddle you anymore.
I’ve done you a disservice letting you think you belonged here with mortals, because I desperately wanted something else for you—a simpler life.
That was foolish of me. You’ll wait for me here while the tea works its way out of your system. I’ll explain everything when I return.”
“You said I could choose to stay here.”
Her face wrinkles like she swallowed a mouthful of myrtle seaweeds.
“You could stay, that’s true. But what happens after you marry an architect you met a few months ago?
When he sees who you truly are, and what your blood howls for, he’ll run a mile.
” Her eyes soften, and she squeezes my upper arm.
“We can only hide from ourselves for so long, darling.”
The spotlight above our heads bursts into sparks. I want to say she’s wrong—that she misread the situation, that I’m sure about my decision to marry Lachlan—but she always knows when I’m lying.
Her gaze drifts past me, her tone shifting as if addressing someone else entirely. “And you… You’ll have to decide if you belong to the light or if you’ll vanish into the dark.”
She’s not speaking to me anymore. She’s speaking to E.
My pulse swirls.
“So he’s not involved in all this?” I ask.
“Oh, no. He’s just…lost.” She frowns, the way she does when she’s weighing something heavy, or even doubting herself. “What’s meant for you won’t walk past you. It was only a matter of time before you two met.”
“Why won’t you tell me anything about who I was?” E asks quietly. “At least tell me my name.”
Her expression softens, her eyes creasing with a mix of warmth and regret. “Even when you knew your name, you didn’t know who you were. You hurt a lot of people trying to figure it out. No matter your past, you need to decide who you are now, and what you mean to do with your life.”
“Do ghosts have a life?” he huffs.
That faint trace of annoyance I remember from the day I told her I was getting married shines in her eyes. “Do you want a life, my starlight?”
Starlight… The tenderness in her tone quickens my pulse.
“Who would choose this empty existence over the alternative?” E mutters begrudgingly.
Mabel takes a careful sip of tea. “That’s the question, ain't it?”
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or freaked out that E isn’t just a construct of my mind—or a fever dream sent to prey on me. Mabel likes him, I can tell.
She gulps down the rest of her fortifying tea and sets the cup aside. “I have to go.”
Walking to the sunlit window, she slides it open, letting the late autumn breeze rush in.
I spring to my feet. “Already?”
She leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead. “You two be good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Wait—”
In the blink of an eye, Mabel shifts into a white raven and takes flight, wings catching the light as she disappears into the wind with a sharp caw.