Chapter 10
DAVID
Sean’s aunt was the first to move. She practically tripped through a doorway, eyes wide, stopping beside the man who—oddly—looked like Sean’s brother.
Cole spilled into the room behind her, grabbing her wrist. “Mom, don’t! He’s dangerous.”
David hid his shock behind a blank expression, but of all the people he could’ve imagined to find in this fantastical place, Sean’s aunt and sidekick weren’t among them.
Sean, on the other hand, was no surprise.
Call it intuition, but David had suspected his entire life that Sean would haunt him until the end.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” the aunt said. What was her name again? Bree? “How are you here? Does Xandra know you left?”
Louder than her words were her swirling emotions—dread mixed with joy, hysteria, and regret. A potent mixture. It brushed against his skin like debris in a harsh wind.
Most importantly, he sensed no ill will, and that in itself liberated a smidge of relief. On the trip up this unholy huge tree, watching strangers cower and go pale, he’d half imagined he was walking toward his doom.
Perhaps he wasn’t ready to die after all.
Memories of the torturous, invisible rope that pulled him through the mist sprang forth. After that agony, it took effort to inject boredom into his voice. “I didn’t get much of a choice.”
Her brow creased, and she shook off her son’s hand. “What does that mean?”
Five people stood at different points in the room, all zeroed in on him with defensive postures and strained faces. But none were armed. None possessed even a shred of threat hiding in their transparent emotions. Not even Sean.
Panic, yes. Distaste, even. But no weapons.
More relief percolated through David’s bloodstream, chased by a sense of deliverance.
Was he…free? Was this place beyond the mist the key to his liberty?
He refused to hope. Wouldn’t allow it purchase on his mind.
A redhead, inexplicably grinning and oozing incandescent happiness, stumbled a few steps in his direction. David took a cautionary step back and leaned against the door.
“He was forced,” she said, staring deep into his eyes.
“By who?” demanded the man who looked like Sean.
Her head cocked. “He doesn’t remember.”
David narrowed his eyes.
Get the fuck out of my head, he thought.
Her mouth spread into a wide smile.
Okay. So this was an unpleasant development. Could this girl read minds?
She winked at him.
David crossed his arms. “Anyone care to enlighten me on what the fuck is going on?”
Sean, his blue eyes heavy with exhaustion, sank onto the arm of a chair. “Of course it’s you. Of course it’s fucking you.” His gaze swept toward his aunt. “Someone just needs to give him a chance—isn’t that right, Blaire?”
Ah. Blaire. That was her name. Right.
Chagrin coursed through her features. “I was just trying to make you friends. Can’t you see why?”
“Wait,” said Sean’s twin, eyeing Blaire. “You knew where he was all along? We thought he was dead.”
Sean dragged a hand down his face.
Reasonably certain no one planned to attack him, David spared a moment to examine his surroundings.
The set of rooms was cheerful luxury—colorful and bright, with doorways heading off into winding hallways.
Hell, the view alone won him over. The magical, sparkly forest faded into violet mountains in the distance, vivid and glistening.
He allowed himself only a handful of seconds to take it in, then focused on the argument exploding between Blaire and Sean—him accusing her of endlessly keeping secrets, and her defending her decision not to spill what she knew about David.
Hmm. This was interesting.
But before he could glean any information, another girl emerged—no, slinked—from another room, lifting eyes like emeralds to take David in, and his entire world froze. Her gaze burned holes through every facet of his existence.
Holy shit.
He’d thought his subconscious had invented her, but no.
This was the girl. The one from the dreams and the waking nightmares.
The one who haunted his fantasies and starred in the worst, most unexplainable imaginings in his head.
The escalating argument faded as some discordant combination of emotions unearthed a deep ache beneath his ribcage.
David blanked out his expression and studied the fear in hers. Horror lit the emotional mosaic inside her like a fucking Christmas tree, powerful enough to make his stomach clench.
The woman was extraordinarily beautiful. She could grace magazine covers and shame supermodels. One could argue her perfect if not for the shadows in her eyes. She had secrets. Dark ones, if his intuition was correct—and it usually was.
Whatever these images in his head meant, wherever they’d come from, she dominated them. Some were pleasant. Happy, even. Others were appalling.
As he continued to stare, her mouth tightened.
“Stop looking at me,” she said, killing the squabble.
Okay, then.
Those discordant emotions coalesced into a deep-seated desire to annoy her. He lightened his tone, lifted the edge of his mouth to taunt her. “But you’re very pretty.”
She scowled. Even that was pretty. “I’m not a piece of art.”
He lifted a brow. “Aren’t you, though?”
The beautiful woman glared at him. Specks of blue and gold sparkled at the center of her green eyes. His attention dropped to her Cupid’s bow lips, and his mind blanked. Through that emptiness, one image emerged—
He reached for her, but she spun away, flashing him a dazzling, seductive smile. “Come and get me.”
Images like that usually flittered away as soon as he tried to explore them, but this one stuck. She was there. Right there in his head.
What did it mean?
Pushing off the door, David strode toward her. She didn’t retreat, though she clearly wanted to, judging by the sudden snap of terror icing her emotions, swirling against his soul like snow. He ignored that and peered deep into her eyes. “I know you.”
The jagged edges of her expression softened. “No. She’s not me. Whatever you’re remembering, it isn’t me.”
“‘Remembering’? What does that mean?”
Sean’s twin inserted himself between them, hands raised. “Why don’t we sit, and I’ll explain?”
Tension leaked from the room, though the air was still thick with hostility that kept David on guard.
Before he could decide whether he wanted to be agreeable or put up a fight, a warm—no, hot—hand slipped into his own, driving happiness straight to the core of him.
Shock froze him as the redhead dominated his field of vision, grinning wide.
“I’m Autumn,” she said. “And you’re sitting next to me. ”
David pried his hand from hers. The strange joy faded. What the hell—
The seven of them scattered around a large wooden table piled high with food, and Kywyn—after introducing himself as Sean’s father, of all people—proceeded to tell David a bizarre story. Something about creatures called Indies and a dying realm that was supposed to be immortal.
When it was done, David blinked at Kywyn, unimpressed. “So these immortals. Luxorians? Whatever. The full-blooded ones. Why don’t they fight these Indies?”
“Most Luxorians don’t look human. They wouldn’t blend in. We lavanié have human looks and immortal strengths. We serve as the realm’s stewards in Viterra. It’s our birthright.”
David pressed his lips together, unclear why no one else saw the problem. “Our birthright is that we fight in honor of beings who look too weird to do it themselves?”
Autumn burst into laughter. “He has a fair point.”
“He sounds like Galadaine,” said the girl who hated him. Isobel, he’d learned. Isobel the hater.
“Who?” David asked, though the name sparked in his head, an instant familiarity.
Isobel smirked. “Why don’t you tell him the rest of the story, Kywyn?”
He winced. “Bel, I don’t think—”
Her eyes cut his way. “Tell him, Ky. He wants to know. Who’s Galadaine?”
Others shifted at the table. Sean had his jaw tight, arms crossed, gaze trained on a basket of bread.
Kywyn sighed. “I’d really prefer to have your mother here for this conversation.”
Taken aback, David glanced at Bree. Wait, no. Blaire. “My mother?”
Beside him, Blaire’s expression turned contrite. “Xandra is not your birth mother, David.”
Given the number of life-altering bombs dropped that morning, David shouldn’t have been surprised, but his heart didn’t quite understand, and it kicked up to a strange, painful rhythm.
Alex Berkeley was not his mother. Maybe it should have been a relief to know that the woman who’d never loved him hadn’t actually birthed him, but instead, existential dread swallowed him whole.
He froze it all, hiding behind the practiced apathy. “Then who is?”
“Your mother is of noble birth. She is the descendent of one of the Sovereigns I mentioned before,” Kywyn said. “She traveled to sylph lands some time ago, but a messenger will be sent to retrieve her.”
Tingles spread along David’s spine. “She’s—a Sovereign?”
“For now,” he said, voice gentle. “But you’re of age. Tradition states heirs be crowned on their twentieth year. Now that you’re home, you will be coronated. We…we thought you were dead, David.”
David’s voice came out raspy, and he hated that show of weakness more than he hated this story. “Fantastic. So, now that I’ve risen from the dead, I have to wear a crown?”
Kywyn swallowed and said nothing.
“If I’m an heir to the supposed throne of this place, then why wasn’t I raised here?”
Loaded glances exchanged between Kywyn and Bree-Blaire, but Kywyn was the one to speak.
“Your mother believed it too dangerous to raise you here. She sent you away under the care of her friend, Xandra, but we’ve received no news of your welfare in almost two decades.
The Council forbade her to leave and check on you. ”
A bitter taste saturated David’s tongue. He’d been abandoned to his psychopath father by an absent mother. What could have been more dangerous in this place than the life he was subjected to there?