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“I have not spoken to him since that night,” my mother snaps back.
“I’m so sorry,” the little girl cries. “Whatever I did, please tell me; I can take the truth.”
Clarance Walsh narrows his gaze on me. Dark eyes pinning the younger me with a hatred I’d never witnessed until that night. “You can, can you?” He looks over her head at my mother, then back to her. “Your mother is a whore, Bronywyn. You are no Walsh. You are no child of mine.”
My heart shatters into a million pieces, those pieces shattering into a million more when I see the grief all over my mother’s face. Studying her as a woman now, I see the way she looks at my father, the way she is all but begging him to love us anyway.
“Mother?” the little me asks, her voice cracking.
“I’m so sorry, Bronywyn. You must know that I—”
The door slams open, and robed council members rush in. My father grabs my shoulder and pulls me back as my mother kneels before them.
“What is happening?” Tarnley asks. I don’t respond, far too wrapped up in what I know is coming. “It’s true then?” an older woman with stark white hair comes to a stop just beside my father. She glares down at young me, and I remember the way her eyes were so cool—so evil that I’d been haunted by them for years.
“It is.” My father’s tone is sharp, broken. “She broke The Accords.”
“No! Mother!” the young me screams as she lunges forward.
A sob breaks free, and I cover my mouth with shaking hands. Tears stain my mother’s cheeks, but she does not flinch when the woman moves closer.
“And this child, she is the spawn of the hunter?”
“We do not know,” my father replies. It’s a lie. I hear it now even as I’d been too terrified to pay it any attention before. Why did he lie?
“We should terminate her, just to be sure.”
“No!” my mother screams.
“You will not be harming her until we know for sure,” my father replies coolly. “She may be the bastard child of the hunter, but she may also be mine. I will give her until she turns nineteen, but if her powers do not come in, if she is, in fact, an Astor, I will kill her myself.”
Tarnley audibly gasps behind me, and I turn toward him, not wanting to relive my mother’s murder. My father spared me by shielding my eyes then, just as I hide now.
“Councilwoman Walsh, you have betrayed your kind by sharing the bed of a hunter. For this, you will be executed.” My mother cries out moments before a heavy thud fills my ears.
The young me screams.
“Get her body out of here before my other daughter wakes up,” my father orders.
Footsteps thunder as they move right past us while Tarnley holds me against his chest. I know why she showed us this memory, why this is the one that came to mind. The shadow is toying with me, trying to drive a wedge that will never exist by showcasing all of my secrets.
Bring it the hell on.Tarnley and I are too strong.
“Is this real?” he asks, releasing me. “You’re a witch. Does that also make you— “
“My biological father was an Astor. Clarance Walsh force-fed me potions to ensure my magic came in on time. He couldn’t be embarrassed again, not after it was made known that his wife was an Accord-breaking whore.” I sniffle, my chest tight.
“Shit. You’re an Astor.”
“Half. Rainey’s great-grandfather was my biological father.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Why would I? Being an Astor means nothing to me. It’s simply a name.”
“Did Agatha know? You two were friendly.”
“No. No one knew.”
