Home to Brian.
I thought I’d spent a few nights in Wintermoon, dancing and laughing, falling in love, making love under a blanket of stars night after night… Imagine my surprise when Brian told me I’d been gone for months. I felt as though I had lost all touch with reality. He was out of his mind with worry.
As the days passed, I began to doubt my fae lover. His intentions. His words. The very words that had so thoroughly entranced me were now poisoning my mind. My heart.
I realized that he’d lied to me. Used me. That he would only do so again, and through my confession I promised Brian I would never return to the fae realm. To my Wintermoon noble.
Alas, it wasn’t long after that I learned of you. And I knew in that instant I could never love anything more, regardless of your parentage or how you came to me. You were and are a blessing…
I skim through a few more entries, each one growing increasingly dark.
He knows, my sweet girl. I don’t know if he’s got spies on me, or if this was his plan all along—to leave me with child in hopes of one day claiming you as his own, another subject for the royal court, another witch to do his bidding. But he knows about you. He knows I’ve got you, knows how much I love you, and he will use that to manipulate me…
And another, a few nights later:
He’s haunting my dreams, turning them into nightmares. It’s the only way he can reach me, for he’s not strong enough to come to our realm. He promises me the world, and I know his words are poison, yet…
Again, the letters take a turn, oscillating between revulsion and obsession.
He came to me again last night,she writes.His voice like liquid silk, his touch like fire. I know I should resist him, but my resolve is weakening. He asks about you. He has always wanted a daughter, he says. A female heir to his fae lands, his immeasurable wealth, his magic. He assures me he will spoil you. When I refuse his invitations, he becomes nothing but darkness and flame. Even in dreams, his temper is destructive. And yet, he is shockingly beautiful. I wonder if you will inherit his eyes…
The entries only become more cryptic and strange, alternating between declarations of her borderline obsessive love for my fae father and her paralyzing fear of him. Fear for herself, yes. But mostly, fear for me.
He’ll never stop hunting you,she writes—the same exact phrase Draegan used. Not searching for you, not reaching out to you, buthuntingyou.He will use every bit of power and connection and influence he has to find a way into this realm or to bring you to his. It may take days, it may take years, but mark my words, he will find you…
“I can’t,” I finally say, turning off the tablet. “I can’t read any more tonight. It’s all just… it’s too much.”
Rook’s wing draws closer, and I lean into his touch, steadying myself with his calming presence.
“Brian Avery wasn’t my real father,” I whisper, the revelation washing over me again like a dark wave. “And he knew. Goddess, no wonder he tried to sell me off to a demon. He probably resented me. Probably looked at me and saw nothing but a big neon sign reminding him of my mother’s affair.”
My mother’s affair.
The words sound so preposterous, I almost laugh.
For my entire life, I’ve only ever known her as a ghost. A woman who died giving birth to me, frozen in my mind as wholly perfect simply because she didn’t live long enough to hurt or disappoint me.
But she wasn’t perfect. She was as flawed and broken as any of us.
I know it’s irrational to judge her for it. I didn’t know her, didn’t know her relationship with my—with Brian. Didn’t know what would make her fall in obsessive love with a fae noble from an evil court, unable to see through his manipulations.
But for some reason, the proof of her flaws—written in her own words, a shockingly intimate tale—breaks my heart anyway.
I wanted her to be above reproach. Not just in my mind, but in life.
“My father is… Wintermoon,” I say. Another dark wave. Another icy chill. Even at a whisper, the word makes the hairs on my neck stand on end, skin prickling where the rune is undoubtedly glowing. “My rune… Do you think my biological father marked me? Or his magic did, somehow? Like it just knew I was… Wintermoon?”
“Another drink?” Draegan asks, taking my empty glass. When I shake my head, he says, “Yes. I’m concerned the rune might be a sort of… A way for the fae to find you.”
“A tracking device?”
He nods. “The Wintermoon fae… They’re possessive and cruel, Miss Avery. When I said they would hunt you, I wasn’t exaggerating. The noble knew about you from the start—he’s very likely been tracking you ever since. I’m sure it’s only by the grace of the failing portals that he hasn’t come for you. Your mother mentioned he wasn’t able to travel here, and it’s certainly only gotten more difficult for him in recent years. That’s a good thing for us, but we can’t rely on that alone.”
“If he’s anything like his kin,” Jude says, and I can’t recall a time when I’ve ever seen him so pale. Not even when I first told him about the mages who carved my back. “He’s relentless and bloodthirsty. He’ll stop at nothing to try to take you—emphasis ontry. Because if I catch so much as awhiffof Wintermoon blood…” The color returns to his cheeks, fire rising beneath his gray skin.
“It’s important that you’re aware of all of this,” Draegan says to me. “And you must be vigilant. But it’s not for you to lose sleep over it. Wewilltake care of this.” And then, kneeling before me, a rare moment of vulnerability in his eyes, “We will take care ofyou. Always.”
He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it. Let him fold his giant fingers around mine. He leans forward, pressing warm, soft lips to my forehead.
