Chapter 10 #2
A hot hand touched his once more, and David pulled away from the happiness it spread, shooting a warning look at Autumn. Why was her skin like ecstatic fire? Disarming, that joy was. Annoyingly so.
“You’ve learned the purpose of the Exorcism and how it started,” she said. “Would you like to hear the story of why it failed?”
Something tugged at David’s thoughts, some forgotten memory, the details elusive and impalpable but painful nonetheless. “I probably don’t want to hear it,” he said, “but sure. Torture me with it anyway.”
She smiled. Again. “Lhynion was the visionary. The dreamer. But his half brother, Galadaine, was the planner. He organized Lhynion’s vision into a manageable venture.
Without Galadaine, none of it would have been possible.
The Queen endorsed their efforts, backing the Exorcism with coin and an army of pixies.
My ancestor soon joined in the endeavor, but Meléan was different than the others.
Her line had been blessed with the magic of nature. She was—”
“Tempestuous,” Isobel said, focused on the middle distance.
Autumn regarded her in silence, her smile finally dimming.
Kywyn rested his elbows on the table. “Perhaps finicky is a better word.”
“She was difficult.” Bel’s voice was harsh. “She did her part when she was asked, but she was wishy-washy.”
Autumn nodded. “But she inspired loyalty, and she was an extraordinary beauty.” Pausing, her gaze found David.
The hairs on his arms and neck fell victim to the intrigue and dread, lifting to attention.
“Galadaine fell in love with her first. His abilities were rare and treacherous, not to be trusted. He had Morgan’s magic—command over emotion and free will. ”
For a split second, David’s restraint slipped, and his eyes widened. Not to be trusted.
That made sense. David wouldn’t trust someone who could do what he could do, but it wasn’t something he could change about himself. This power existed inside him for better or worse.
The magic no one trusted.
“Meléan was taken into his spell, but she came to learn she was being compelled to love him, so she left. She fled to his brother, and…Lhynion fell in love with her, too.”
Oh.
Fuck.
The realization hit like an avalanche—slow at first, a mere shift in the foundation, and then all at once. The fear in those strangers when he’d fallen through the mist. The terror in Isobel as she gazed at his face. The reluctance of Kywyn to give him this story.
Your mother believed it too dangerous to raise you here.
He’d done something. This man, who’d passed down his face and his untrustworthy magic, had done something terrible.
Kywyn sighed. “Galadaine was so jealous Meléan chose his brother that he snapped.”
Autumn took over. “He meant to kill her, raising the blade against her, wanting to punish her for betraying him.”
“But Lhynion stepped in the way,” Isobel said. “Galadaine killed his brother and let Meléan watch as the man she loved bled his life out for her.”
Autumn’s warm fingers brushed David’s arm.
“He didn’t let her free. He imprisoned her with his magic and eventually killed her.
” Her voice grew quiet. “We aren’t sure what happened to Galadaine after that.
His ideals changed. He grew to begrudge the control humans held over us, resented the throttling of our magic.
He drew in disciples who wanted to use them as a source of power, the way the Indies do, to overtake that realm and rule humanity.
They named it the Plague—an epidemic of diseased thinking that amassed thousands of supporters.
The Followers of Galadaine, they were called, an army set on crossing the mist and conquering the mortal world, and in response, the Queen raised her own army. Lhynion’s army.”
Bree-Blaire found her voice. “In death, Lhynion became a symbol, a martyr to fight for. With Rhiannon taking Lhynion’s place at the helm of the Exorcism, the Queen’s army rose against the Followers.”
Autumn shook her head, her eyes lost in memory.
“A great battle was fought, and both Galadaine and Rhiannon fell. The Followers were defeated, Galadaine’s holdings stormed.
Afterward, the Exorcism continued, but without Lhynion, it’s become a shadow of what it was, and the Indies steal more of our magic every day.
” Her gaze moved to David. “Those things you see in your head are Galadaine’s memories. ”
His body stiffened. “Why do I have his memories?”
Autumn shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He sought Isobel, because if he had Galadaine’s memories, that meant— “Do you have her memories?”
She wouldn’t look at him, at any of them. “Yes.”
Fuck it all.
No wonder she hated him.
“Do I look like him?” he asked.
Her head lifted slowly, like it hurt to match his stare. “His eyes weren’t green.”
Fear created a tiny blackhole in his chest, a growing threat of gravity. No escape.
David stared at this woman, not blinking, not moving.
Processing.
The awful truth spread, a trickle of ice water in his veins. Galadaine had betrayed them, had tried to enslave an entire species, and that same blood ran in David’s veins. He was the progeny of this…villain.
No one would ever trust him, knowing what he’d descended from, what powers brewed in his blood. His ancestor had ripped their realm apart, and they were still suffering a thousand years later. David was tainted by the very blood he’d inherited.
This place wasn’t freedom. It was another prison.
His mother, whoever she was, had known his fate and tried to hide him from it. She’d sent him away…into the arms of a monster.
He was doomed either way. Living proof that no good was ever bred in the hell created by good intentions.
Autumn’s warm fingers laced through his. “You are not Galadaine. You can do things differently this time.”
But he hadn’t, had he?
The whole hate-at-first-sight thing with Sean made a lot more sense now. He’d always wondered, always sensed something deeper. He’d succumbed to the twisted feelings without second thought. The hatred was innate. Easy.
“Galadaine,” Sean said, studying his clasped hands on the table, “did he always hate Lhynion?”
David’s focus snapped onto Sean, and the vicious loathing speared through him. He tried to shove it away, knowing it didn’t really belong to him, but the effort was futile.
Kywyn shook his head. “They were brothers. For years, they were close. Inseparable. They just—”
“Fell in love with the same woman,” Isobel murmured, bitterness seeping like poisoned honey through her emotional core.
How could anyone fall in love with such a woman? That stunning outer shell wouldn’t hide the acid within for long, even to those who couldn’t feel what he felt. Less than an hour in her company, and David couldn’t wait to put a great deal of distance between himself and her venom.
Instead, he shifted his focus to Sean, whose moments of anxiety alternated with periods of incredulity so profound, it bordered on comical. Blue eyes vivid as sapphires fixed on David. Falling into old habits, he smirked. “So here we are. Together forever.”
The muscle in Sean’s jaw ticked just as David knew it would.
“Probably should have killed me back when you had the chance,” David added, just to be a dick.
Sean threw on his lovable smile like a mask. “Forever’s a long time. Maybe I’ll get another chance.”
David pointed at Kywyn. “Didn’t you hear the story? I’m not the one who ends up with a blade in my chest.”
At that, Isobel rose from her chair and took his wrist in a vice grip. He could have avoided it, but curiosity kept him still, wondering what move she’d make.
She dug her fingernails into his skin.
“Ow,” he said pointedly.
“Keep threatening him,” she spat. “I dare you.”
Oh.
So this could get tiresome—suffering hatred for crimes he’d never actually committed.