Chapter 26
Shutting the door behind us, we come into an extraordinarily large cottage that doesn’t look like a tree at all, more like another illusion from the outside. My brows are practically touching my hairline at this point.
We’re greeted by a wide stone mantel that sits in the far right corner of the room, angled at a small kitchen and a round wooden table with four chairs. Next to that sits a domed window overlooking the forest with a settee large enough for reading and napping.
My eyes slowly graze the area—lining every visible shelf is a lifetime of books. Herbs hang from the exposed beamed ceiling, the earthy, floral aroma hitting my nostrils a second later. Milena heats the kettle on the stove.
“Have a seat,” she tells us.
After a moment, she sits, handing us both a steeping hot mug of tea with a tray full of muffins. It tastes of honeysuckle and chamomile with the faintest trace of fresh rain—crisp and sweet.
“You’re Elynor’s daughter?”
“You knew my mother?” I ask in disbelief.
She flicks her gaze between us. “What is it you need from me? I don’t see how I can help either of you.”
Rydian leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’re one of the last Siphons. From what I’ve gathered, you used to work closely with King Elion, and we would like to know why you’re in hiding.”
She removes her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose, then holds her mug and stares.
“I might kill Bess for this. It’s been so long since I used my magic, afraid the king will somehow track me down for it.
But then again, he replaced me almost as soon as I left.
” She sighs. “King Elion and I disagreed on what was ethical. He wanted me to experiment by extracting memories from the Fae—criminals at first, but then it changed. He had a very specific goal and agenda. Little did I know, it started to pull their essences, leaving them without their magic. I didn’t feel comfortable taking the very thing giving our land life, criminal or not. ”
That explains why I haven’t been as skilled with my magic—removing my essence.
“What happened?” I ask.
Milena shakes her head, lost to her memories, thumbing her bottom lip.
“He started to obsess over it. I’m not entirely sure why he was wanting me to continue, but it was during the time of the treaty—years after the War of the Veilstone.
When Elynor wasn’t queen yet. I didn’t even know she was a Shadovar until she was sneaking out of the castle, informing me that she could get me out if I wanted.
She knew I didn’t agree with Elion—I was never quiet about it.
She offered to help me go into hiding. We stayed in touch all those years up until her letters stopped coming.
I never knew what happened to her.” Milena’s eyes soften as they meet mine.
“You look just like her by the way. I should have recognized it as soon as I saw you.”
Rydian stiffens at her words, a small shift.
“You knew my mother and she came to find you… as in, she was here in Elderheim? What do you mean? How was she in the castle?”
I glance between her and Rydian, confused, because I don’t remember anyone mentioning to me that my mother was a resident, suddenly realizing that she shared the same walls as me.
“She was sent here by me a few years after the treaty as an informant before she became queen,” Rydian explains, eyes locking on me.
“At the time, I was Andre’s second-in-command, leader of the army’s informant operations.
I knew her before she married Andre. She had insisted on going to Elderheim since we needed the information on what Elion was planning to do with the Veilstone.
She worked her way in as a king’s guard, staying around a year. ”
“You sent her here?” I growl.
I’m stunned at the new information that was just revealed, knowing that he could have told me before coming here. Instead, I find out in front of a stranger after almost getting my face eaten off by a Howler.
Milena chuckles. “A king’s guard, hah! They had a whole relationship, Elynor and King Elion.
She fled shortly after she received her Varethin and took me with her.
She was afraid that King Elion would see it and immediately know what she was.
” She points to the top of her head, where Elynor’s birthmark sits.
Elynor had a relationship with King Elion?
It’s hard to imagine my mother wanting a relationship with the very king who stole my memories.
A thousand questions climb to the surface, yet I can’t get a single one out.
My hand settles on my stomach as nausea consumes me, leaving me to stand and pace—to process.
The fire suddenly presses against my skin, leaving sweat to trickle down my neck, when my hand settles on my chest, right over my racing heart.
“Impossible. I would have known about that,” Rydian hisses.
If my mother was close with King Elion, it would explain his motivation of capturing her after fleeing the castle. Was I captured because I was in the way? Was it revenge? More questions fly through my head when I land on one I don’t dare ask in front of Rydian.
Then my curiosity spikes again, my brows furrowing as I recall the term Varethin—in Rydian’s memories and Milena’s description of my mother, thinking of what I saw in Ivy and Orin’s hair just a few days ago. Is that common?
“What is that, a Varethin?” I ask quietly, unsure if she even hears me as she scoffs at Rydian, eyes narrowing.
“You wouldn’t have known—she didn’t tell a soul,” Milena says.
“The only people who knew were me, King Andre, and whoever else was in Castle Alvonia at the time. From what I heard, Elion was frantic over her disappearance, not realizing that she was Shadovar. He had placed his wards around the castle shortly after he found out what she was.”
“You’re lying,” he accuses.
She leans forward, pointing a finger. “You don’t get to show up on my property uninvited, come into my home, and accuse me of lying.
King or not, I do not have to help you. Isa’s the only reason I’m giving you this information, because of who her mother is.
You can take what I tell you however you want, but I am no liar. ”
I dart my eyes between them, suddenly feeling extreme respect for her, especially if she’s speaking to Rydian the way she is. Anger flashes across his face, and he scoffs with a shake to his head.
Then she pivots to me with a sigh. “A Varethin is a mark of Aurelia—mate marks. Aurelia’s is found in the hair, tying you to someone in the realm by the color of it.
Though both realms have their own versions as Elderheim’s are typically colorless marks on the skin.
Your mother’s mark was tied to King Andre, which is why she fled. Where is Elynor?”
I blink, masking my shock as my stomach sinks.
Does that mean I’m tied to someone in Aurelia—that the color in my hair isn’t from birth?
If that’s the case, it directly ties me to the realm, meaning everything Rydian’s been telling me has been true.
That I’m from Aurelia and I’m the heir to the throne.
Although he showed me his memories and I can wield Aurelia’s magic, I still had my doubts.
But now those doubts have been squashed in a matter of seconds.
Nausea curls in my stomach at the thought of my presumed responsibility to rule Aurelia, as if it’s just now sinking in.
I suddenly feel as if I have no choice but to accept it, whether I want to or not.
I used to dream of my freedom, slipping from Alvonia—out of the castle—for a quiet life in the woods somewhere.
This newfound responsibility is the complete opposite of that.
What am I supposed to do, run a realm and throw balls as a queen of Aurelia?
That thought alone leaves a whirl of apprehension crawling up my spine.
Rydian stands to pace. “We aren’t sure, but we’re looking.
Elynor was captured during the battle twenty years ago.
Do you happen to know where he’d keep her?
” he asks, but she shakes her head, and he lets out a defeated breath.
“What of the siphoning? You said he was experimenting. How does memory siphoning work?”
His auburn hair brushes against his brows, his cloak swooshing from the sudden movements near the fire that crackles behind him. I lean against the wall near the windows, willing my heart rate to slow as I take it all in.
Milena hums. “As you know, the king is a very powerful Scry, which allows him to see glimpses of his future. Before I left, he was having me place those memories and essences into crystals for his own personal use, telling me it was detrimental to the future. Storing them for what, I don’t know. I left before I could find out.”
Elion’s archive suddenly flashes across my mind and what I found in those drawers, my thoughts whirling with more questions.
“Can they be put back? If these crystals… or memories are found, can they be put back into the Fae they came from?” I ask, hope rising in my chest.
“Yes. If they can be taken out, they can be put back in.” She eyes me over her glasses, and a relieved exhale leaves me.
“And can you put them back?” I mutter.
“I haven’t used my magic in a very long time, but I should be able to. Can you wield any magic at all?” she asks after a moment, brows furrowing.
“Some,” I admit. “I used to not be able to do any, but over the last few weeks, it has been growing rapidly.”
She points a finger at me. “Don’t breathe a word about your magic if you suspect your memories are being stolen.
When we pull a memory from someone’s mind, it’s attached to their very soul—their essence.
But over time, you’re able to grow some of that essence back.
After all, it’s ours, regenerating similarly to the blood in your veins but at a much slower rate.
It takes a few years to replenish, but once it starts, it grows rapidly. ”
Her words reassure me of my decision to remain quiet.
But if it only takes a few years to replenish, does that mean my memories have been taken more than once? If my calculations are correct, the essence stolen from me as a child would have regenerated by now. I should have been able to wield magic for years already. Right?
“That’s good to know. Do you know who the Siphon is?” Rydian asks, something we desperately need to know.
He’s stopped pacing, facing Milena with his arms crossed, somehow making her cottage feel compressed—almost claustrophobic with how large he is.
“Mm.” She nods. “I do. It’s my grandson, who’s now King Elion’s second-in-command. He was appointed shortly after I went into hiding.”
I quickly recall Rydian’s memories of Ivy mentioning that King Elion’s second-in-command killed King Andre. But it’s me who’s confused, knowing that King Elion doesn’t have one—not that I’m aware of. I’ve only ever seen Theron at his side, and as cruel as he is, he’s no second-in-command.
“And what’s his name—your grandson?” I ask.
“His full name is Witt Dralor, but the last time I checked, he changed his name. He was a sweet boy, but his parents died during the war, leaving me to raise him after. He was pretty much raised in the castle while I worked for King Elion, but when he hit adulthood, something changed,” she says.
During the war? So that means that he’s been around close to when King Elion took the throne.
She frowns. “He became unpredictable and could switch between moods in seconds, as if he was a different person entirely. He’s the last Siphon ever born in this realm and is fully at the king’s disposal. He’s dangerous, but I’m not sure what he goes by now.”
Rydian looks off to the side when a look of revenge hardens his features, his brows lowering. It casts shadows over his eyes, giving him a dark edge, and I swear that I see them moving as he clenches his fists.
The tight line of his jaw reveals someone who’s willing to destroy anything in his path. Anything to avenge his king, no matter the cost.