Chapter 24 #2
Zillah whirls on him. “What? All this time, what?”
His throat works as he swallows. “I discovered I could shift around eight. At first, I was afraid of it, and I never touched it, but as I grew older, I saw it as a chance to sneak away, move unseen. I should have told you all, but I kept it to myself. Not maliciously, it was just my secret. My freedom.”
His gaze drifts, distant. “The first time… I was climbing trees, higher than I should’ve been. I’d already been warned, but something about the skies—” he huffs a humorless laugh, “—they called to me. That day, I didn’t choose wisely. The branch snapped beneath me.”
He swallows hard. “I was falling. It would have broken my neck. The ground rushed up, and terror filled me, alive in my veins. I threw my arms out on instinct, and suddenly I wasn’t falling—I was rising.
Wings beat where my arms should have been.
I was a raven. Thrilled. Horrified. I didn’t even know how to shift back. ”
His hand trembles at the memory. “I flew to the forest floor and sat there for hours, begging my body to be mine again. Finally, the magic relented. And I swore I’d never touch it again.”
He drags a hand over his face. “But one day, years later, I risked it. I was curious if it was still there. I found that age and understanding my magic made it easier to shift. So I started flying here and there. Just a way to clear my head, a way to see the world from a whole new perspective. I felt so free in the sky.”
“One evening, I was flying… and I saw him. Father. He was meeting a man in secret, wearing Guardian armor. I couldn’t see the man’s face. Couldn’t hear their words. But then—then Father turned, and the man stabbed him and fled.”
His voice cracks. “I panicked. I flew down. He was already gone. Dead. And I—” His hand shakes.
“I never told what I’d seen. I thought maybe he’d been part of something dangerous to be meeting in the forest like that.
I thought telling might dishonor him, or even risk Mother.
And if anyone knew what I could do, I’d be recruited immediately into service as a Guardian when my place was now needed at home. So I kept silent.”
His voice breaks completely. He bows his head, weeping silently. Without thinking, I grip his hand. Zillah seizes the other, both of us anchoring him.
Elaris sips her tea, unhurried, nodding as though this moment is exactly as she foresaw.
“He knew what you could do. He knew you would share in your own time. Though he never meant for you to be in the skies that day. We corresponded, here and there, throughout the years. He knew that helping that guard would eventually cost him his life. But he also knew—there were greater Threads at work. And that was his part in the final weaving.”
Lowan exhales, a sound like ten years of guilt breaking free. His shoulders sag. “Then tell me—how does he fit into all of this? Who was the child? The one that cost my father everything?”
Elaris sets her cup down, her face solemn. “Ahh. Another truth first.”
Zillah’s voice is low at first, almost trembling.
“Father always told me that our power Manifests based on who we are deep inside. Deeper than even we know when it first shows itself. Fate gives us the power we need to make a difference in the world. So when mine took shape as shielding, I felt proud. Like I could really do some good in the realm.”
“Then Sirona’s showed as healing, just like Mother.
She was only two years younger than I. We were children—too young to understand.
But Mother and Father were so proud. ‘Another healer!’ Mother had cried.
And I—” Her breath falters. “I was jealous. Jealous of her power. Jealous of the pride in Mother’s eyes.
Sirona was already a little ray of sunshine, looked just like Mother, and now she was to be trained up in Mother’s shadow.
The dark thoughts I let in about myself. About her…”
Her voice breaks, and she covers her face with both hands. Selene slides closer, resting a steadying hand on her shoulder. Lowan stares at the floor, silent. After a moment, Zillah drags in a deep breath and forces herself to go on.
“It wasn’t until I met Selene that I came out of the anger, the jealousy.
I felt the truest form of love, both for myself and for this other person.
I realized Sirona had no control over the power that Fate had given her.
I was punishing her for no reason. I saw I was the issue.
My insecurities were robbing me of life.
Sirona always joked that Selene brought out my best qualities, but it was true.
For so long, I wasn’t very kind to her. Not until Selene changed me.
I never confessed it to Sirona. Never told her she had deserved none of my coldness. And now…”
Silent tears streak Selene’s face as she cups Zillah’s cheek.
Her voice shakes, but it is steady with conviction.
“She knew you loved her. And loved her fiercely. She would not want you to carry this any longer.” Zillah nods once, sharply, wiping at her eyes.
Her shields are gone; what’s left is raw and human.
Elaris carries on, never missing a beat, like Zillah hasn’t just bared her very soul.
“That child, as you asked, has nearly grown. He was raised here on the Isle, beyond the Queen’s reach.
Your father never told the guard where he had taken him, only that he was safe and hidden.
I could not keep him, but I knew where he would be safe.
He has a part to play when the time comes.
His name is Arden. Selene will know the way to him. ”
Selene closes her eyes and reaches outward with her magic. When she opens them again, her face is pale, her voice steady. “Yes. I can find him.”
Zillah frowns, her still-watery gaze darting between Elaris and Selene. “But why? Why would Tambrose spare him? Why would Calidora even allow the risk? If she only wanted girls—if she disposed of boys so carelessly—why him?”
Elaris folds her hands, expression unreadable. “That is the question. Why would the Queen demand daughters and yet spare one son?”
Selene’s voice is soft but firm. “Because she is a Donovan. She wants the Donovan power. Sons cannot carry it.”
I blink at her. “What?”
Elaris turns her solemn eyes on me. “You wouldn’t know, I suppose. In the Donovan line, power is passed down only through females. Any sons born will have power, but they do not carry the gift.”
My throat feels tight. “What gift?”
Her voice drops, reverent. “The power to open portals to other realms.”
The words hum in my bones, though I can’t explain why. My breath stutters as memory crashes over me—the King’s hands searing my skin, his voice curling like smoke: You could just open a portal and escape. I thought he was wrong. Mad even. But now—now I’m not so sure.
The words send a cold ripple through me. Around the circle, no one argues. The thought of killing innocent babies is too vile, too possible.
“So she just killed them?” Zillah presses. “Like they were nothing?”
Elaris only lifts her shoulders in a slight shrug. “No one can say for certain. But we know this boy was meant for slaughter, and yet his life was spared.”
“Then why?” Zillah whispers, leaning forward. “Why him?”
Before I can stop myself, the answer tumbles out of me; the answer blazing with clarity through my mind. “Because he wasn’t the King’s.”
The silence that follows is sharp, every pair of eyes swinging toward me. My chest tightens, but I don’t back down. “He was Tambrose’s. Wasn’t he? Did Calidora even know the boy was spared?”
Elaris doesn’t answer. But the glint in her eye tells me enough, so I barrel on with my conclusion. “I saw the way they looked at each other back in the castle,” I drawl. “There was more between them than duty. If he were their son, Tambrose could not bear to kill him.”
“That is what it appears, though none can say for sure,” Elaris says.
The truth—or something close to it—hangs between us, fragile and heavy. Remli drawls, leaning back with a half-shrug. “Okay, so Lowan’s father had Sight, made everyone forget about it, helped hide a royal baby, and got himself killed. Right. But what does that have to do with anything now?”
Elaris’s gaze sharpens, cutting to her like a blade. “Ask me what you truly want to know, Wildcat, but be prepared to offer your truth if you seek knowledge.”
Remli stiffens. Her eyes flick nervously around the circle. “I mean… I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering this. What does any of it matter to what’s happening now?”
Elaris folds her hands in her lap, patient, unshaken. Remli looks absolutely murderous at the idea of sharing anything personal with us. She scowls, crossing her arms, but then begins in a rush, like she wants it over with.
“You all know I have a twin. We can both shift. Everything we do, everything we’ve always done. Together. The same. One trajectory.”
“Growing up, we had friends. But none closer than you, Lowan. For a while, I cherished every moment at the Veynar estate. Running wild through the forests. You trying to teach Kyler to swim, and he nearly drowning you both. They were the happiest times I’ve ever known.”
“Then Kyler fell for Sirona. Of course, I understood. She was beautiful, kind, and a joy to be around. How could he not?”
“But that left me—left us—” she gestures toward Lowan without meeting his eyes, “alone more. And eventually, it seemed inevitable that feelings would develop. Lines would be crossed. And they were. And I saw myself on this path. What if I became a Veynar? What if this eternal place of happiness and safety became mine forever?”
Her voice cracks. She wipes at her eyes, furious with herself for the tears, but the words keep coming. Finally, she looks straight at Lowan.
“It was never you I loved. Not really. I loved the idea of belonging. Of family. Kyler… he’s all I have. Our parents—” she swallows hard. “They didn’t… They weren’t exactly…”