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Chapter Twenty-Two
Ash
The Folk all loved their fucking names, and I was learning every single one that the Brid went by.
The Brid. Lady Brid. The Seelie Queen. Seelie Ruler. Queen of Dawn. Wielder of Words.
The more important a fae was, the more titles were bestowed upon them. It was ridiculous. Pompous.
I already knew the Carlin’s. Unseelie Queen. Lady of Elements. Queen of Winter.
The seelie had a name for Nua too. He’d been the Golden Son, but not anymore. Not since he refused to kill me and was banished after our mother missed her chance to kill him. Now he was simply known as the Traitor.
It made very little sense to me, seeing as I’d been welcomed onto seelie land and into the Brid’s court—the very person Nua had been banished for not killing. She’d wanted me dead as a boy, but now that I was full fae, I was of use to her?
She hadn’t tried to use my fae name to get me to do something yet. I didn’t know if she ever would, but I was eternally grateful for my secret second name, just in case.
She didn’t feel like my mother. Mags had been my mother. Mags had raised me and looked after me and loved me. This woman had abandoned me as a baby and tried to have me killed.
I regretted ever coming here. Ever going to the Midsith to see her. I’d allowed my hot, festering rage for the Carlin to cloud my judgement, making me focus only on my fervent need to destroy her as she had destroyed me.
Odran had been right. The Brid’s words were her weapons, and she’d still had those in the Midsith. I still wasn’t entirely sure how she had managed to get me to obediently stand at her side in there and get into her carriage to come here without any resistance. I’d just… done it. I’d been scared for Nua and Gillie, but I’d still just… obeyed her.
And now I was stuck. In a bigger house, in another court, but no different to how I’d been stuck in that cottage on the Carlin’s land.
I’d been given a sumptuous room in the palace. I ate breakfast and dinner with the Brid every day. She called me her son and cooed about how beautiful I was, how she could see herself in my glorious fae form.
It was all a game.
We danced around each other, always wary, always careful with our words. I didn’t know what she suspected of me, but I knew she didn’t trust me fully. And I didn’t trust her even a tiny bit.
I found out that I could still go into the forest—I wasn’t actually trapped here, like I had been on the Carlin’s land—but I didn’t dare visit Nua and Gillie until I knew that the Brid wasn’t having me followed. And if I left for good, she’d come looking for me. Just like the Carlin had.
I’d been a complete fool.
I’d thought I was getting better at being fae. At navigating my way through the Folk’s customs and traditions and tricky words. But I wasn’t. I was still too naïve and impulsive. I wasn’t calculating enough to deal with the Brid. I was only twenty-one, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t know exactly how old she was, but I knew she’d been alive for centuries. How was I supposed to compete with that?
I walked into the dining room after a week at the seelie palace and waited at the spot already laid out for me, not sitting down until the Brid swept into the room and placed a delicate kiss on my cheek. She smelled cloyingly sweet, like rotting flowers.
I sat when she did, feeling vacant as we started eating. A Folk server appeared to pour our tea, looking away quickly when I smiled at them in thanks.
I missed Nua and Gillie fiercely. Our easy breakfasts in the tiny sidhe kitchen, which was always warm and smelled faintly of earth. Laughing at the sheer amount Gillie ate. Drinking coffee and talking about what we would do that day.
“I think it’s time we invited the Unseelie High Fae for dinner, don’t you?”
I froze, unable to look up from my plate as the Brid’s smooth, musical voice pinged in my consciousness. When I sensed her eyes on me, I slowly carried on eating.
“Why?” I managed to ask in a flat voice.
“To show that bitch that she didn’t win. That she will never win.”
On the surface, it sounded like she was on my side. That she wanted to put up a united front—mother and son—to show our strength and bond.
But I knew she was full of shit.
I nodded once. “Of course.”
“Wonderful. I’ll get the staff to start preparations. We’ll serve spring lamb. And venison. Some form of roasted bird especially for her youngest son.” She snickered cruelly.
