Page 141 of Fallen Court

I turned my attention back to the mirror as I wrenched down the neckline of my shirt and found more Theban—not in the dark ink of shadow magic; instead, it was in the same tawny hue as the ones racing somewhere else on my body. But these symbols remained fixed firmly in place, not moving from their vigil over my heart. Seven of them. I clapped a hand over my mouth as I realized what they were, but it was too late. Tears rolled down my cheeks, their heat at odds with the cold confusion that had taken hold of my entire body.

And peeking from behind my shoulders—

“Who are you?” Ciara asked angrily.

I forced myself to turn and face her—and found a gun leveled directly at my head. “It’s me. Cate,” I murmured, holding my hands up and hoping I could prove it to her. “I’m still Cate.”

My own heart was still beating in my chest. My thoughts swirled and swarmed inside my brain, trying to process what was happening. I was still me.

Wasn’t I?

How? How? How?

Ciara’s arms shook, her finger hovering over the trigger. She studied me, her gaze sweeping across my face in swift, sharp passes as if looking for proof.

“You saw me go into the stall,” I pointed out, annoyance thawing some of my shock.

Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it. The gun remained pointed between my eyes.

I looked at her, at the perfect skin of her arms, her neck, her face. It was unblemished. No tattoos giving her away. Not a single ancient symbol to show that she was thinking this over. Nothing to tell me if she was capable of shooting me, and somehow that was exactly the answer I needed.

“You aren’t going to kill me,” I said softly.

She flicked the safety off. “You don’t know that.” But her voice cracked.

Maybe I was wrong, but I doubted it. “You won’t.” I swiped at my tears, my eyes straying to the effigy on the floor. I considered for a moment before I bent and picked it up.

The gun tracked my movement, Ciara beginning to breathe heavily.

“Willow…” I forced myself to swallow, something made difficult by the knot in my throat. “She came to the Avalon.”

With her dead tulips, poking around, looking in my purse… And when I was finally ready, when I finally took the ring off. A laugh burst out of me. I plucked the thread fully off the effigy, and my shoulders felt lighter.

“Start explaining,” Ciara demanded.

I turned around, still clutching the tiny doll, determined to make Willow explain later. Ciara’s eyes followed it. The gun stayed on me. My temples began to throb, because cramps, a period, and a life-altering revelation weren’t enough for one day. Now I was getting a migraine.

Worst. Day. Ever.

“Put the gun down, and I will,” I snapped at her. “And have some sympathy. I’m PMSing.”

She blinked a few times, and then her arms collapsed to her sides, the gun clattering to the floor. “I just need you to answer one question.” Her voice shook. “Does Lach know?”

I slumped against the wall, my thoughts drawing together my brows, which only made my head hurt more. “Kinda.” I closed my eyes to help with the pain. “Yeah, I think so. At least, he guessed it.”

Ciara crossed her arms as her body began to quiver. “And you?”

I should have expected a follow-up question, but I frowned at her. “Wait, you think that I was keeping this from you?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

That made two of us. I drew a deep breath, startled to find my lungs burning. My hand shot to my chest and began to rub.

“It’s a tad harder to breathe on Earth than the Otherworld,” she said, her voice softening. “You’ll get used to it.”

She stared at me for a minute like I might transform again, like she didn’t quite trust her sight, and I couldn’t blame her. Slowly, she took a step forward, her gaze zeroing in on my neck. I clamped a hand to the spot in alarm. “What is it?”

“Theban,” she whispered, “but it’s…” She lifted her head, looking into my eyes, and her mouth fell open. “Oh gods… Are you… It’s not possible.” Her attention drifted to my hand, to the engagement ring I wore, but I knew she was seeing something else. She was seeing the color of those tattoos. Not Nether Court black. Not the iridescent pearl of the light courts. “Does Lach know?”