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THE HERMIT: SHINE YOUR LIGHT WITHIN. THE ANSWERS WILL BE THERE.
Huey flies in circles next to me on my way into the kitchen. I didn’t plan a destination when I walked out of the great hall, other than anywhere away from the twins. I need time without Atticus or Jace nearby to distract me so I can figure out what to do. Right now, I’m feeling too many emotions—anger, sadness, betrayal, worry, and love—to know which one should win out.
Rona appears in front of the stove. “The formal presentation didn’t go as expected?”
I laugh but it cuts off on a sob. “Not at all.”
Huey hops on the table as if my distress causes him the same. He chirps and clicks at Rona, and she nods. “Much to learn,” she says to him like they’re agreeing in a conversation not even my runes can translate.
“You two know a language that the runes don’t?” I ask, wanting to focus on something…anything other than Atticus’s dealing with a demon in order to get his claws on me. When he could’ve just asked, could’ve just—I cut off that line of thought. What could he have done? Flown off the church roof and dropped into the hospital parking lot one night to ask me to come to his realm to be his queen? Sure. I probably would’ve marched upstairs to check myself into the psych ward.
Rona grins at Huey. “Hudyakis and I mostly speak in mental telepathy. We ancients all have the ability. But that’s not what brought you into my kitchen, is it?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. “Have a seat. I’ll put the kettle on.” Moments later, she settles a cup in front of me at the kitchen table before taking the chair across from me. She climbs atop stacked books to reach the table from her cross-legged sit. “Drink. It’s already cool enough.”
I take a sip and cough, a burn tearing along my throat. “This is more alcohol than tea.”
“Seemed like the whiskey would do you good.” She waves her mitten-covered hand and a plate appears on the counter in front of Huey. He happily pecks away. “Can you forgive Atticus?” she asks.
I suck in a breath. “Going straight for the kill? You didn’t even let the liquor loosen me up.”
“I’ve been with the boys their whole lives. Doesn’t mean I agree with what he did.”
“He could’ve found a way to get me here other than luring me to the house for a demon to hand me over like a wrapped gift.”
She nods, her pointed ears hanging low. “Perhaps. Although I will say that losing Dyphena shook his confidence. He’s an honorable gargoyle most of the time, but he’s ruthless when it comes to protecting his twin. He would do whatever it took to save Jace. And you, I suspect, although he came to that realization later.”
“He lied to me. Maybe by omission. But it feels like…I don’t know.” I search the tea as if the answer might hide there.
“Betrayal,” she says.
She’s right. My stomach turns, and it’s not the whiskey making me ill. “Yeah.”
“Does his lie make you not love him?”
I shouldn’t answer. I haven’t even told the twins of my feelings for them. But hot tears slide down my cheeks. Swiping them away, I shake my head, afraid to trust myself not to break down if I say more about loving them out loud.
“Sounded like love to me with all the racket coming from the upstairs bedrooms,” she says with a cackle.
“You’re such a perv for listening.”
“I’m a dirty old lady, and at my age, it’s allowed.”
“Then you should know that’s not love. It’s lust.” My lie doesn’t fool her.
“You young people always think you invented sex. Where do you think the humans got their creative kinks? Besides, I’ve watched the way you look at them, talk with them, let them push you to your limits in training. That’s love.” She gives a thoughtful hum. “Could you ascend to the throne and watch Atticus from afar without having him by your side?”
“No.” The thought hurts.
“Then I suppose you’ll have to consider what it would take for you to forgive him.”
“I’m not sure I haven’t already, and I kind of hate myself for that weakness. What would people think of a queen who can’t even stay mad at someone whose lies could’ve gotten her killed?”
“Who cares what people think? You can’t make everyone happy.”
Her bitter truth stings because I’ve wasted years working to do just that. “I try.”
She tips her head, a crocheted bonnet slipping dangerously to the side. “Let’s start with what would make you happy.”
“That’s selfish.” I hide my face in my teacup.
