Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
‘Her mother volunteered to produce the heir. She always had a thing for your father, to be honest,’ he said, snickering, while I nearly gagged.
Ew. We would not talk about that. ‘Are Miriam’s eyes a characteristic of some nightmare fae?’
‘No.’ Isaac shook his head. ‘Some say her eyes represent the amount of blood spilled on both sides. Though she hates the reasoning.’
No shit. I wasn’t aware of the burden that rested on her shoulders. The pressure on both sides. It had to be unbearable. ‘Did she get them from her mum?’
‘No, her mother’s weren’t red.’
Oh, no. ‘Weren’t?’
He sighed. ‘Corporal Lotus died in a coup organised by the sympathising faction against your father. They wanted him dethroned for aligning with the enemy.’
‘She lost her mum?’ my voice broke.
‘He slaughtered every member in retaliation, proving his allegiance.’ Isaac suddenly looked exhausted. ‘Lotus… she was a great friend. And a spectacular fighter. They would have never got her if she weren’t pregnant.’
The world around me collapsed. The depravity of the puritans had always been a known and a constant threat, but even so, I always believed they held on to at least some morality.
I couldn’t believe it. ‘They attacked when she was pregnant?’
‘They didn’t want a nightmare heir,’ he said, his tone solemn. ‘But she was so far along the baby survived. Nobody had ever seen your father so… It’s like the Isles themselves attacked those responsible.’
‘How so?’
‘The Isles are sentient. The lore says that the kings, typically, have some reign over the land, but it hadn’t been seen before or after. To be honest, once he organised governing factions over each of the Isles he stepped away into the shadows.’
I didn’t understand. ‘So the Isles aren’t ruled by him?’
‘Your father made it clear he retained the right to step into politics at any point to make sure the history doesn’t repeat itself. Otherwise, he doesn’t feel the need to force his will on the dark fae.’
Something about his recollection confused me. ‘Are nightmarists not considered dark fae?’
Isaac clicked his tongue, deep in thought. ‘Depends on who you ask. Technically, we should be, but a lot of our population don’t even want to be considered that anymore.’
Honestly, I couldn’t blame them. After what I’d just heard, I kept asking myself how some of us could be so cruel. Poor Miriam never even got to meet her mother.
‘Do you consider yourself a dark fae?’ I asked him.
He nodded. ‘Yes. Wrongdoings of a small number of lunatics shouldn’t get to change who I am.’
‘Makes sense.' My voice grew quiet. ‘They probably wouldn’t consider me dark fae either.’
He narrowed his eyes, studying me. ‘Why wouldn’t they?’
‘I’m a halfling or rather a cross-breed since I seem to be part witch, fae and dark fae.’
The soft smiles of his kept stunning me. The roughness of his interior just didn’t match them. ‘Who cares what they think?’ His hand lightly squeezed my leg. ‘You’re dark fae to me.’
‘Thanks,’ I whispered as the skin under my jeans shivered under his warm touch.
Taking the hand away and locking his arms behind his head, he explained, ‘Besides, we’ve got more halflings than you could imagine.’
‘Oh really?’
‘A lot of the people on my Isle decided not to engage with other dark fae and opted to find partners elsewhere,’ he explained. ‘We’ve got part witches, part fae, part shifters, and even humans. If you can imagine it, we probably have them.’
‘That sounds remarkable.’ My head spun with how inclusive the place must have felt. ‘So versatile.’
‘Certainly makes the festivals interesting,’ Isaac chuckled, sipping on his liquor.
‘What do you mean?’
The mischief in his eyes warmed my insides. ‘Witches and shifters aren’t exactly known for their asceticism, are they?’
Ooh. ‘You mean... Erm… Their lack of inhibitions?’
‘Precisely. That’s a nice way to put it,’ he laughed earnestly.
Why would he mention that? ‘Do you attend such festivals often?’
‘Why?’ The frosty eyes of his sparkled as he straightened. ‘You want to accompany me?’
‘Ha. My dragon likes to call me sexually challenged, so I think I’ll pass,’ I joked and watched his reaction.
Isaac choked on his drink, hacking loudly before setting the glass back on the coffee table. ‘She calls you what?’
‘Anya has a sense of humour and what seems like an unwavering libido. Or maybe it’s all dragons; I’m not quite sure.’
The struggle to keep his face straight was palpable. ‘Why does she call you sexually challenged, Ava?’
I snorted. ‘My misanthropic nature plays a part, though it’s mostly my funereal love life.’
The intensity in his gaze made me look away, as he purred, ‘It can’t be that bad; you’re a beautiful woman.’
It was my turn to laugh. ‘You’d be surprised. I’m a little… withdrawn. River and you are the first men I ever truly felt comfortable with.’
As I said it, I realised he was the first person I ever shared my mate’s real name with. If he didn’t know it yet, he caught on quickly.
Isaac’s eyes widened before he leaned down and grabbed my hand. ‘I’m very happy to hear that.’
The connection between us was unexpected but didn’t feel forced. Actions spoke louder than words, and the man before me had been trying to help me grow stronger for a while now. He deserved my trust, and I deserved to give our friendship a chance.
Isaac’s shadows enveloped our hands; the gentle darkness pushed between my fingers, forming rings between my hand and his. It was playful and encouraged my powers to come out to join in.
The green energy of my witchcraft flowed through my palm, joining the little chase as it followed the path of his shadows, only to dart away the moment Isaac’s power tried to connect.
It became an elaborate game of hide-and-seek, one he was letting me win.
Until, all too soon, the direction of his darkness changed, making them collide.
It was rough and pleasant. The shadows craved to dominate, circling my witchcraft in a wild pursuit that it strangely appreciated. The sliver of shadows that lived inside me twitched keenly, though it didn’t move to link.
Tired of questioning everything about my life, I let them be, just as Isaac had. He watched our interfused powers, mesmerised, and seeing him so content reminded me of our conversation from a couple of days ago.
Loneliness was a cruel punishment for staying true to yourself. I was glad I could at least be of some use, since he probably didn’t have many people around him he could trust.
I hoped he trusted me.
Because I realised I trusted him.