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“Don’t say that so loudly,” Etrix said, eyes flashing toward Fanon.
Garot pursed his lips, expression abashed. “Right. Fanon doesn’t like hearing about this prophesied heir, for it would suggest Ailan’s heart has moved on in the human world.”
“One’s heart and body aren’t always aligned,” Etrix said. “One can love someone while physically being with another.”
Garot gave him a sad smile, and Cora realized Etrix was probably referring to his relationship with Satsara. Had they loved one another, even with their forced pairing and infidelity? Or had he been the one she’d been with physically while loving someone else?
Garot spoke again. “Whether it’s Ailan or this child of prophecy, we await the tear in the Veil.”
Cora’s pulse kicked up as his words triggered dawning realization.
The unicorns. The mother. The child. Who do you think you are in that prophecy?
Cora cursed under her breath.
This child they were waiting for, this heir of Ailan…
Was that…her future child?
The one she’d never have?
The one Morkai had ensured would never be born?
Her stomach bottomed out, adding to the hollow feeling that remained where her magic once filled.
Morkai’s curse...
The fate weaving…
If left unbroken, the Elvyn might never have their Morkara again. The Blight could grow. El’Ara could be destroyed.
Panic crawled through her. She had to tell them. Theyhadto help her—
“There is no tear.” Fanon’s voice rang out from near the Veil. Her eyes darted to him. The first blush of sunlight crept up from the horizon, illuminating his dark glower, his blue eyes pinned on her. “The Veil is fully intact, which means you lied. You couldn’t have passed through the wardweaving. Worse, it means you’re a worldwalker.”
54
Fanon strode over to Cora, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Tell me how you got here, human.”
Lie. Lie. Lie. Valorre’s panicked words threaded through her mind.
Her shoulders sank with the weight of her own futility. She was tired of lying. Tired of pretending she was someone she wasn’t. Lying about how she’d gotten here hadn’t given her a way home. Hadn’t gotten her through the Veil.
Beneath that lie was a mountain of others she’d told.
She’d lied to the inquisitors and claimed to know nothing of magic. It had earned her her place as princess, solidified Dimetreus’ throne, but where were the fruits of such efforts now? Dimetreus’ council still didn’t trust her. Or him, for that matter. He’d lost his right to rule, was forced to abdicate according to the terms of an alliance that was supposed to be built on trust.
More recently, she’d lied to Teryn and told him nothing was wrong the night she remembered the curse, and he’d gotten possessed by a dead sorcerer.
She’d lied to Lurel. Told her the tower library wasn’t dangerous. The girl was now dead.
She’d lied to the Forest People, kept her royal identity a secret. In later confessing the truth, she’d earned their distrust.
Lies upon lies upon lies.
She used to think they protected her. Saw them as a necessary precaution. But now she found they were circular. Perpetual. Simply a way to delay the inevitable.
Mother Goddess, she was tired of it.
