“Not murder you, West.” I close the book and meet her gaze. “Midnight’s Lullaby is indigenous to Faerie—it’s nearly impossible to find in this realm. Whoever got it for your bouquet must’ve smuggled it in—the fae have been trying to eradicate it from their own lands for millennia.”
“Why is it so forbidden?”
“In large enough doses, the pollen can be toxic to fae. In small doses, however, it merely dampens their inherent magic.”
“Wait… But that’s… What are you saying? That I’m definitely fae?”
“We knew it was a possibility, given your reaction to Zorakkov’s blood. Now, hearing how you reacted to these flowers—”
“But I don’t have any magic. There’s nothing to dampen.”
“You might not have anywitchmagic, and the fae blood you inherited might be very, very watered down at this point. But even a trace amount would’ve caused a reaction. The symptoms you described are all signs of a body’s inherent magic mounting a defense against a perceived threat, just like your immune system does with a virus or infection. And you said it yourself—the moment the ravens destroyed the flowers, you could sense the demon. Anyone with fae blood would’ve sensed a demonic presence immediately—their magic can detect it.”
“Wow.” She goes to stand near the fire, her back to me, the firelight casting her in a golden halo. In a soft voice, she says, “So it’s true, then. Idohave dark fae blood in me, just as you guys suspected.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“Does that mean… Am I dark, too?” She turns to look at me again, her face pinched with worry.
“No more than someone who’s great-great-great cousin-once-removed committed a murder. That has nothing to do with who or what you are, West. Onlyyouget to decide that.”
It’s a long moment before she speaks again, and when she does, her voice is barely a whisper. “She knew, Rook. Eloise knew.”
“About your fae lineage?”
“Why else would she have gone to so much trouble over the flowers? She must’ve known I was at least some part fae, and she couldn’t risk me figuring out Hunter was possessed by a demon. It would’ve thrown off the whole plan.”
“Well, turns out she was right. Itdidthrow off the whole plan. With a little help from your ravens, you figured it out, and you escaped him.”
“Them. Not just the demon and the Forsythes, but my stepmom and my… Goddess, Rook. My own father. I just…” She closes her eyes, blotting at fresh tears with her sleeve. “I don’t understand how a father—even a terrible one—could stand by and let his child sacrifice herself like that. Is there a chance he didn’t realize what Hunter had become?”
“I wish I had an answer for you, West. At this point, we don’t know your father’s motivations or what he knew—or didn’t know—about the demon.”
“No, he knew. Hehadto know, just like Eloise. When things took a turn for the worse on that altar, Ibeggedhim for help. And he stared down at the floor, weak and ashamed and useless. Even if he didn’t know about the fae thing, or how deep Eloise was involved in all this, hedamnwell knew it wasn’t right. I was terrified, and my father didnothing.”
I rise and join her at the fireplace, drawing her into a tight embrace. Her heart is slamming against her chest, her body quaking—with rage, with sadness, with the kind of pain only a betrayal of this magnitude can cause.
“You’reherenow, West,” I whisper into her hair. “As far as we’re concerned, it’s his loss.”
She chokes out a sob.
“I’m not trying to minimize your pain over his betrayal,” I continue. “He’s your dad—you’re going to feel that ache for the rest of your life. But please believe me when I tell you that despite his actions—despite the actions ofeveryonein your life who disappointed or abused you—youarewanted and cared for. Even if it’s not by your blood.”
“You have no idea how much that means to me.” She finally looks up at me again, a genuine smile peeking out through the tears. “Thanks.”
“I’m only speaking the truth, West.” I cup her face in both hands and press a kiss to her forehead, lingering for as long as I dare. When I finally pull back, a spasm between my wings has me grunting like an old man.
“Rook? What’s wrong?”
“All good.” I force a smile and lower myself onto the bench. “Just a little stiff. Growing pains, you know?”
“Hate to break it to you, but your setup in here is hardly ergonomic. Is your gaming lair like this, too?”
I laugh. “Worse, actually.”
“You’re probably working on a few decades’ worth of nerve damage and spinal compression.”
“Pretty sure I read about all that in a medical textbook. You’d think I’d know better.”
