“You’re not cursed,” she tells me.
“I—” I shift to Moyra, who’s still holding her potion like a weapon, poised to attack me. “What do you mean?”
“Your blackouts aren’t because of a fae curse,” Alyth tells me. “Your blackouts are you. You’re a Red Cap. The High Blade themself talked through you.”
White shock stuns me, taking my senses and numbing them hard.
I blink up at Alyth, shaking my head slowly, remembering everything she told me about Red Caps, about the High Blade.
“No—they’re not allowed in Scotland,” I try.
“I know.”
“I—I’m not a monster. I’m not a—you said they’re monstrous, Alyth. You said they hunger for blood and draw strength on violence and—that’s not me.”
It can’t be me.
This whole time, it’s been the curse; it’s been something beyond my control, something forced on me, something I could fix.
My heart rate spikes, my breathing too, and I gotta calm down, but I can’t. Can’t catch this runaway horror rising in my chest.
Alyth’s expression changes to something that looks a damn sight close to pity.
“It’s me?” I state, face collapsing in disgusted horror.
It’s not a curse. My blackouts, the way I hurt people—it’s not a curse that can be removed.
My vision blurs, eyes flickering hard and not seeing anything. Hope had set me up so high in such a short time, wobbling precariously atop a pillar, and I ignored the drop because I thought I had salvation at long last.
But now?
I’m falling off that pillar. Plummeting straight down, right back to where I was: having to accept that this is who I am, a part of me I can never remove. Only the impact of thudding back down into that reality is crushing me. I know now what it was like to get so close to rising above.
But this is me. This monstrous, unpredictable curse.
Not a curse.
Just me.
“Enough of this,” Moyra snaps. “Kill him, Alyth, or I will.”
Alyth whirls around, glaring at the witch. “You forget your place,” she snarls. “I am the Leth guardian, and you are not fae. Do not attempt to force my hand or my blade again.”
Moyra’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything. She also doesn’t lower that potion bottle.
I hadn’t connected that yet.
That me being a Red Cap means Alyth’s duty is to kill me.
Moyra rolls her eyes but keeps her potion vial locked in her fist. “Here I expected a mighty fight. A Red Cap, after centuries of silence. And you’re not going to gut him? Psh. Dull girl.”
“Hey,” I snap before I can think better of it. “Leave her alone.”
Moyra looks at me like she’d forgotten I’m capable of speech. “Careful, English Red Cap. Don’t get angry with me now. Hate to see Alyth have to change her mind about sparing you.”
“Don’t call her things, then,” I say. “She’s sacrificed more in her life to keep you safe than you’ve likely done in however many years you’ve been kicking around. I don’t understand much of this world so far, but I understand her, and I’ll not stand here and let you mock her anymore!”
My hands are fisted, my hackles raised. I’m panting where I’m still kneeling on the floor, and all the tension is now pushing outward, atMoyra.
