AllFreeNovel
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“You mean I’m supposed to be there. Whatever I do is what was supposed to happen.”
“Mostly, yes.”
“Then you can send me back to them. That means I can save them.”
“No.”
“No? But you just said—”
She holds up one finger stopping me.
“I said what was supposed to happen is what will happen. You cannot save all the MacGregors. Their fate is sealed. That does not mean you cannot help. That you cannot, perhaps, save the one you care so much for.”
“And the rest?”
She shakes her head. My heart flutters in my chest as I consider her words.
“Okay, I want to save him.”
“Good. Drink this.”
I stare at the offered cup. Her long, snowy-white fingers are wrapped delicately around it, holding it out as the most natural thing in the world. Except it’s not. It’s a binding, a contract, that places a hold over me in some way I don’t fully understand.
“What is it you’re asking of me?”
“That you accept your role. Take on your destiny, before it overtakes you.”
“I don’t know what my destiny is. How do I embrace it?”
“Listen to your heart. It will tell you.”
“Nice. Cryptic. Vague. Love it. Are the stories true? If I eat or drink Fae food, am I bound to your realm?”
Her smile doesn’t leave her face, but it does fade from her eyes. She pulls the drink away and turns her back on me.
“Yes,” she says. She turns back around, and her perfect skin has signs of age on it now. Her hair is no longer lush, but lank. She looks dimmer, somehow less. “And no.”
“What is happening here?” I ask, sweeping one arm wide to take in all the Fae realms.
“Have they not told you? We are dying. As your world progresses, our world is fading away.”
“And what is it I’m supposed to do about it?”
“You are the Destroyer. We cannot make that change for you. We can only play our role in your story.”
“My story?” I ask, numbness creeping along my limbs.
She nods. The cold numbing sensation invades my chest, stretching towards my heart, making it hard to breathe.
I drop onto a bench by the table. “Why me?”
“Tell me of your mother,” the Queen says.
“I didn’t know her well, she died when I was very young. I was raised by my Dad.”
“What do you remember of your mother?”
“Her smile,” I say, the image coming unbidden: Mother smiling as she looks down on me in my crib.
