Chapter 39 #2
“I know all about doing what it takes to survive,” I tell her. “I get it. I do.” I nod a few times. “I’ve had to use my body a time or two,” I lie.
“I’m sorry.” My mother’s face falls for a beat or two. “It can be pleasant.” She looks at me, and my belly sours. “But mostly it’s arduous business. It’s not something you will have to do ever again, Isla. You’re—”
“I would love to know what it is you found that was so bad that Tarro had to resign over it.” I tilt my head, keeping my voice light.
“That he agreed to name you Ruler General. So bad that he hasn’t spoken a word of it since.
I have to say, it must have been really bad.
And really clever of you to uncover,” I quickly add.
I feel guilty lying to her, but I can’t help but feel that she isn’t the mother I once knew.
That she’s looking more like the enemy with every passing second. My heart aches with the knowledge.
She brightens up, her whole face aglow with that same pride. She quickly turns serious. “If I tell you, you will not be able to breathe a word, Isla.”
“Of course.”
I see the moment she decides to trust me with it, the way her shoulders drop and her arms unfold.
“I found evidence to suggest that Tarro was the one who orchestrated the murder of the Shadowfae King and Queen.”
The air seizes in my lungs.
I don’t move. I don’t blink. My mouth has fallen open. That was the last thing I expected to hear.
“You see, Tarro didn’t want peace between the species,” she continues.
“He hated the idea. He believed the shadowfae would lose their standing, their identity, if the courts began to cooperate. He feared being rendered obsolete.” She pushes off the desk and moves to a heavy chest in the corner.
She lifts the lid and pulls out a leather-bound book.
It’s thick, the spine cracked and worn from use.
“The fool kept a diary. Wrote in it every single day. Tarro liked to boast about his achievements within the pages, as though he were writing his own legend.”
She holds it up. Even from where I stand, I can see the dark stains on the cover. Ink, perhaps. Or wine.
“It is all in here. Every last detail.” She opens the diary to a page she’s clearly visited many times before.
The spine falls open there on its own, the way a book does when you’ve bent it to the same place again and again.
“He wrote about how he tried to change the royals’ minds first. How the king and queen pushed him into a corner with their insistence on uniting the fae species.
How he found it…” She glances down at the page, reading his words.
“Unfortunate that he had to go the route he did.”
My stomach drops.
“There was a young nursemaid in the castle named Dilia,” my mother says, turning a few pages. “She was so kind and lovely, according to his writings. Everyone trusted her, especially the young prince. The king and queen adored her. She had the run of the castle.”
I nod once, urging her on.
“Tarro found Dilia’s daughter. The child was still small and staying with Dilia’s mother at a border village.
” My mother taps the open page. “He made it very clear to Dilia that if she didn’t kill both the king and the queen, he would have both her mother and daughter killed and that their deaths would be slow and painful.
He wrote that he didn’t think Dilia would be able to carry out the assassination.
That she was too soft.” She taps on the top of the diary.
“It’s all in here. He was even grateful that she carried it out because he didn’t want to have to murder an elderly woman and an innocent child. ”
I feel sick.
“It’s all here,” my mother says again, closing the diary.
“And more. But that was the most damning evidence by far. Dilia had no choice. She did what Tarro demanded. She killed the king and queen, and the guards killed her for it. Just as Tarro intended. The one person who could have pointed the finger at him died in the act.”
That poor young woman, and Sebastian’s parents. Tarro destroyed them all for his own gain.
“He framed the shifterfae?” I whisper, almost to myself.
“Indeed. It was easy.” My mother tucks the parchment back into the folio.
“There was already a feud between the two species. The shadowfae are not liked. The shifterfae are liked even less. Tarro planted the seed in Lysander’s head.
Sebastian’s uncle ran with it, and so it quickly became the most logical direction to point the finger.
” She ties the cord around the folio and sets it back inside the chest. “So you see, Isla. Like I told you, I worked hard to get where I am. I had to be clever. A step ahead of the rest.”
I can’t maintain the charade anymore. “I think that perhaps you were power hungry and tired of living in the shadows as a simple farmer’s wife.
You saw an opportunity that day and took it.
You haven’t stopped since. You sound just as power hungry as the queen herself.
Just as power hungry as Tarro. I think you did this for yourself, first and foremost.”
Her face hardens. “That isn’t true. I saw an opportunity for survival and took it.” Her voice is hard, too.
“Yes, but why not come back to us, then? Why not send word?”
“I had no idea where you were,” she says.
“You could have tried, but you didn’t.” My voice wavers despite every effort I make to hold it firm.
“I made sure I rose in power so that I could protect you.”
“You did it first and foremost because you wanted to.” The words are out before I can stop them.
“I think you told yourself it was to protect me just to make yourself feel better.” A tear runs down my cheek.
I wipe it away with the heel of my palm, angry at myself for shedding it. Angry at her for drawing it from me.
“That’s not true at all,” she tells me, shaking her head.
“Isn’t it?” I ask. “Because now you serve a monster. Surely you must know that she is evil and corrupted. Even more than the deadlands. She is rotten from the inside out, and you’re friends with her. You want me to meet her.”
“Snow is a female who is ambitious.” My mother lifts her chin. “People don’t like that. They—”
“More lies that you keep telling yourself.”
“Does this mean you aren’t staying? That you aren’t—?”
“No, Mother.” I straighten and meet her gaze. “I plan on serving the realm…the people who Snow wants to enslave.”
“All lies and untruths.”
“Open your eyes. Stop fooling yourself.” My voice rises. “It is you who are telling lies to yourself.”
“Isla.” Her voice hardens. It is the same tone she used when I was a young girl. It still makes something in me flinch. “I don’t like the way you are speaking to me. I need you here with me. If you would just meet Snow, you would understand.”
“I already met her.”
“Yes, but that was under the wrong circumstances. It—”
“It was under exactly the right circumstances.” I hold her gaze. “Next time I meet Snow, it will be on the battlefield, and this time we will smite her down.”
“No, Isla. Stop this foolishness.” She takes a step toward me.
“Anyone who goes against Snow dies. You will die.” Her voice cracks a little, telling me that somewhere deep inside is someone who still cares about me.
It only makes it harder. “Snow is all-powerful, Isla. The kings are nothing. Your Sebastian is less than nothing.”
“Mother, you—” I start to say.
“No, listen to me. The kings cannot possibly win against Snow,” she continues, her voice climbing. “You need to serve the side that is going to conquer. Stay with me. Let me help you. Please!” she practically begs, grabbing my arms just below the elbows.
“I feel sorry for you. You would rather pick who you think will be the winning side than make the right decision.”
“That isn’t it at—”
“It is. It’s exactly what you are saying.” I sigh. “I can see that this is going nowhere.” My voice is quiet now. “I came to see you. To look you in the eyes. I needed to know why you left us and never returned.” I take a step back toward the archway. “I have my answers.”
“No.” The word comes out strangled. “Don’t leave me, Isla.”
“I have to. I don’t belong here.” I shake my head.
Her face changes. The softness, whatever was left of it, drains away. What replaces it is cold and rigid and nothing like the woman who held me moments ago.
“For the last time…don’t leave. I need you safe and at my side.”
Something breaks in me, but something else lets go. “I can’t do that. Goodbye, Mother.”
I turn.
“Isla! No!”
I ignore her.
“You leave me with no choice. Guards!” my mother screams. Her voice tears through the quiet of the tower, loud enough to reach the corridor outside.
I spin back, my magic flaring to life beneath my skin, shadows gathering around my fingers.
But before the door opens, before the first boot hits the carpet, Sebastian steps from the darkness.
What is he doing here?
No!