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As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I freeze.
Crystal.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute—
It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
“Do you have a pen?” I ask. I think of the scrap of paper in my pocket, then decide against pulling it out in front of them. Until I can make some sense of it myself, I don’t want to give them anything else to fret over. “And something to draw on?”
Callie nods. “We had a junk drawer. All odds and ends. If it’s still in there, try the one next to the stove.”
I head into the kitchen, pulling open the drawer she mentioned. I rummage through it, trying not to let it bother me that everything inside of the drawer is as old as I am. Just like the rest of the apartment—well, the part that doesn’t look like it’s been through a tornado—it’s all been frozen in time.
There’s a notepad stowed near the back. At least five pens scattered among the old menus, the dried rubber bands, the containers of thumbtacks. I grab one at random, pray the ink’s still good, and return to the living room.
I take a seat on the far edge of the couch, placing the open pad on top of my knee. I’m no Picasso or anything, but I guess I learned enough in art therapy to draw a passable picture of something that’s just popped in my head.
Please, please, please.
My brow furrows. I can feel the lines forming as I struggle to remember the details. I only saw it once and, since I was kind of running for my life there when I did see it, there’s no guarantee that it’s perfect, but after a few minutes, I hold out the notepad to my parents.
Sketched in the center, I’ve drawn Dr. Gillespie’s weird necklace, the one he kept tucked under his shirt. There’s the string. The nail that’s an exact duplicate to the one Carolina gave me and that I lost in Faerie. The rock with the hole in the center that he used to find me hidden in the shadows. And, as close as I can get, the strange crystal that stood out to me.
Ash draws in a sharp breath. “Where did you see this, Zella? Tell me.”
“On my doctor,” I immediately answer. A second later, I frown. “And don’t do that, okay? Don’t use my name to make me answer you. It’s not fair.”
He blinks, stunned. I know he’s supposed to be my dad, but he’s also a Light Fae. From the look on his face, I’m beginning to think no one’s ever spoken to him like that.
Then my m
other rises from her place on the couch, crossing over to Ash, then lays her hand on his clenched fist, and I’m sure of it.
“Ash—” she says softly.
He shakes his head. “No, my love. Our daughter… she’s not wrong. I shouldn’t have commanded her. My apologies,” he says, turning to me with such earnestness in his gaze, I can’t help but accept them. “When you were small, using your true name was habit to keep you safe. But you’re not small anymore.”
My lips quirk in a sad, almost smile. “Nope.”
“In Faerie, we guard our true names ruthlessly. We take a second name that we answer to, but that holds no power over us. Like how I’m Ash, and your…” He shakes his head again. “How Ninetroir answers to Nine. Calling you by your true name might not be fair, but the fae don’t care about fairness. We care about power. There’s too much power in Zella. You need a second name.”
This is so strange. Go back a couple of weeks and I didn’t have any idea that I was part fae. Now I’m sitting in an abandoned apartment with my parents and the father I’ve never known is teaching me about my fae side as if we haven’t just met.
He’s right—well, about one thing, at least. Only a handful of people know my true name and, if it’s possible, I want to keep it that way. Bad enough that Rys knows it and has shown he has no problem using it to suit him, but what if the Fae Queen convinces him to share it with her? He might not have when we were all in her throne room, but what about now? I grabbed my parents and Nine, leaving him to deal with Melisandre and her guards all by himself. If I was Rys, I’d sell me out the first chance I got.
So, yeah. Being controlled whenever someone calls me Zella isn’t going to fly with me any longer. When it comes to me having a second name, though?
“I don’t need a second name. I already have one. Remember?”
“Riley?” His perfect nose wrinkles. “The humans gave you that name.”
I shrug. “So? I am half-human.”
Ash’s golden gaze slides over to his right. It softens when he looks at Callie.
On an exhale, he admits, “You are. And that might be the part that saves you.”
