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But it’s not that.
It’s not that Skye has invited me to the Hunt—an old tradition in the light lands where humans (innocent, both sexes, all ages) are released into the Wild Woods, and then chased down by the fae in a savage hunt. So much blood. So much death. So many lives stolen.
I don’t want to go.
But…
It’s something in the letter that sparks my interest and triggers an uneasy ripple of my gut that’s suddenly turned watery.
She signed off the letter with, ‘Sister, Skye.’
Daein didn’t pick up on this as anything out of the ordinary. Light fae will call one another sisters and brothers when they are most fond of them. It’s a term of affection, an expression of like. No more than that. Usually…
Yet I know that Skye has never called me that before, and with our conversation in the parlour room, my nerves are suddenly wracked. More than that, my curiosity is piqued.
I swallow back a lump in my throat as I fold the note up and stuff it into the pocket at the back of my breeches, the one that is tight against my large bottom.
Daein mistakes my nerves. “Remember what you are, April. These humans are not your kin. Not truly.”
“But they are,” I murmur, playing along with his misunderstanding. “At least half of my blood is theirs. And I was born to be one.”
“You were raised by them, and that affects your sympathies. To survive in any of the fae lands, you must learn to detach yourself from your sensibilities. Play their games. Fondness from a litalf princess of Skye’s status is valuable to us.”
Strategic, as always.
And for once, I keep him in the dark about the true meaning of the letter. ‘Sister’ is not just a term of endearment here. It’s more than that—a code, a secret revealed, or at the least, her suspicions of what I am to her.
Behind the scenes, she must have been hard at work to track me, trace me back to her bloodline. And it chills my bones that I can be so unaware of what’s going on around me.
And it boils my blood that my own daughter put me in this dangerous position.
Daein’s voice is firm, harsh almost. “Humans here are unworthy. Accept that, April. Participate and control your emotions.”
Blankly, I look at him. He’s turned towards me, his gaze studious and detached.
I feel so far away from him, so distant and lost.
And as his eyes soften, I recognise the sadness there, ebbing in from the edges.
Coming towards me, his hand reaches out and finds my belly, swollen from all the foods and drinks I’ve indulged in during this trip. His eyes are locked onto mine, sadness swimming in them like the pale blue seas in the paintings on the castle walls.
“Would another child bring you joy?”
I’m startled. My lashes flutter as I stare up at him and my mouth slackens some. “What?” My voice is a strangled whisper.
“Another child.” He repeats this simply, no pressure, no expectations—simple curiosity as he seeks to find answers to bring me some happiness. “Will that help heal you?”
“I …” My bewildered look turns dark. “Idied, Daein. I died when I gave birth to her. You would want me to risk my life like that again?”
He shakes his head, moving to stand before me, his hand leaving my belly to cup my jawline. He lifts my face to align our gazes, misery in his.
“Your life source feeds off of mine now. You will not die. You will not come close to the end, but rather draw from my power.”
My lips pucker as I take this in.
Another child…
I’d never entertained the thought before. After Ensley, Daein took the seed again to prevent getting me pregnant. And it’s been eighteen years since that started. Not to mention my experience with labour and childbirth. The memories flash in my mind, and I know it has left its mark on me. A fear, deep in my heart and bones.
