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Hot-pink and black heads shake.
“But if your future-self’s baby was sacrificed, that’s the beginning of a new cycle,” Rachel says. “The Bloodelm Court went first. The Ivywhile Court was lost while we were at Bevington. The Rowanfury Court in South America disappeared the year Evan escaped. Then Ashegold in Ireland. We think they’re taking out the courts on ley line nexuses. Thistlemist is next.”
We all pause as Gabe brings a platter of scrambled eggs to the table. I rise from the table to help him carry dishes and utensils. I make sure Lords and Rachel have as much grilled sausages and homemade hash browns in front of them as they could want. They look like they could use a hearty meal.
“How many sacrifices in the cycle?” I ask as we dig into Gabe’s good food.
“Three,” Rachel says. “Although the Rowanfury cycle took four. We’re not sure why.”
“Strength of the unborn’s fae blood,” Darwin offers. “High fae blood would be worth more as a sacrifice, if the point is to build power.”
That seems super-elitist. “Could be. Or it could be the larger courts, the ones with more ties to the mortal world, take more oomph. They’re building up to the bigger courts. Amplifying power with cycles of sacrifices. And I hate to circle back to the elephant in the room, but you didn’t answer me.” I hold Lords’s eyes. “Did you kill Jade Kalveri?”
He snaps off a bite of toast between his straight, white teeth. “No. I was framed. I barely knew Jade. I was having an affair with a student, though.” His blue eyes flick to Rachel, who grins around a sausage. “I kept silent at my trial to protect Rachel and because it was obvious the fix was in. But I had nothing to do with Jade’s death. We think Jade’s baby was the first in the cycle that destroyed the Ivywhile Court.”
I rub my forehead with my free hand as I parse that through. Lords and Rachel. Could that be her mystery man in my time, too? “But Darwin wasn’t with Jade in this timeline. Who was the father of her child?”
“We don’t know. But the prince wasn’t the only fae lordling at Bevington, then or now.” Lords nods at Darwin.
“Fae nobility. You must keep track of each other,” I say to Darwin.
“We do.”
“Who were the other high fae at Bevington when you were there?”
“Only Phoebe from Thistlemist. My father wouldn’t have tolerated any other high fae from our court being at Bevington with me. Nor from any other of the winter courts. We’re all in competition, if not actively trying to kill each other. There were some from the summer courts, like Lethendy and Myron Mureith. But none of the summer courts have been affected.”
“Just because Jade was at Bevington, doesn’t mean the father of her baby was,” Rachel says, reasonably.
“Bevington’s an insular community, though. I’d be surprised if the father didn’t go there. I know your father claimed you,” Lords says with a nod at Darwin. “But not all fae lords claim their by-blows. The father could be another prince of the winter courts who just wasn’t acknowledged by their fae parent.”
I bury my face in my teacup while I digest that. I had no idea Darwin was illegitimate. How did I not know that? I mean, not that it matters to normal people if someone’s parents were married, but itmustmatter to the high fae.
“What does it get us if we find the father of Jade’s baby now?” Darwin asks.
“Nothing,” I respond. “Not in this Time. But if they’re at Bevington in my Time, too, that’s another confluence. It could lead us to the real killer, to the Vitrim within Evanda Hale in my time.”
Lords takes a long swill of tea and sets his cup down on the table between us with a loud enough clunk to get everyone’s attention. Staring at me, he asks, “What happens to us if you go back to your own Time and change things, like stopping the cycle of sacrifices that destroyed the Ivywhile Court?”
I glance at Darwin.
Lords thumps his cup on the table again. “Don’t look to him, Teddy, and don’t lie to me. I’m fairly sure I already know the answer, anyway.”
Darwin curls his upper lip at Lords, but I put my hand over his and squeeze. “There’s a good possibility this timeline collapses,” I admit.
“Collapses, as in?”
“It ends. Not with a bang,” Darwin says. “With a whimper.”
Rachel reaches for Lords; he wraps his arm around her shoulders.
“How likely a possibility?” Lords asks, his face paler than the skim milk in the pitcher on the table.
“Highly likely,” I confirm. I don’t bother explaining the split timeline, Fate-points, and future-me’s failing patches. Lords in this time seems very practical, and he’s gotten to the end game on his own. “Future-me felt this timeline had a decade at most.”
Rachel puts her head down on Lords shoulder.
“Everyone dies, baby,” he says to her, more gently than I’d have expected he was capable of. “We’re not in the safest line of work, anyway.”
