AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And Kirran…”
I stop and face him, bracing myself.
For a moment, he just studies me. Then his placid expression falters, and he averts his gaze. He settles his hands behind his back and looks down at the gardens. “Your mother informed me that you believe me to be disappointed in you.”
A knot forms in my throat, travels into my chest, but I can’t make myself move.
He shakes his head, still speaking toward the glass. “You are mistaken. Though, I grant that I haven’t shown this well. The loss of your brothers has been…devastating. When initial reports came, I feared…that it was all four of you.”
His words float like early morning mist, hovering long enough to turn the world silent.
I remain a tree in his presence, rooted in place.
“You are my son. The same as your brothers. Despite our differences, I’m proud of who you’re becoming. I am glad you’re home.” He stiffens and angles his gaze toward the back wall of his study. Bookshelves fill the space. His voice softens even more. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Thank you, Father.” The words come out thick, but I force them anyway.
A quick tip of his head, a flash in his golden eyes as he finally glances over. “You’ve surprised me. I hope you will continue to surprise me.”
I meet his gaze with a wry smile. “I’ll see you at the masquerade.”
“Very good, son.” His chuckle follows me out the door.
* * *
I arrive at the ballroom early enough to torment myself with anticipation. My father’s words bounce around in my head, too unexpected to pin down. But beyond that, my thoughts roll over everything I studied that morning. I hadn’t dared return to the halls of history. Not with yesterday’s panic still burning inside me. And after it became clear that Alia’s stepfamily had anticipated my interrogation plans, I tried the halls of records instead and searched through countless family trees.
Not every fey has manifestable magic, but many do. While magic doesn’t always follow bloodlines, it often attaches itself to them, leaving children with gifts similar to their parents’. Yet like nature itself oftentimes surprises, families with no hint of memory or illusion magic can produce a child with it. Just like a man with storm magic and a woman with the gift of song can produce a son whose magic is killing.
I confirmed that both Alia’s stepsisters are gifted with rot induction. Her stepmother’s magic of preservation isn’t all related to what happened between Alia and me, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t otherwise involved.
Beyond that, I learned nothing else helpful.
I sigh and try to push the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is announcing my bride and marrying her. We’ll figure everything else out later.
But a cold hiss lurks at the back of my mind, insisting that what we don’t know might change everything we think we do. That nothing is what it seems at all.
I do my best to suffocate the doubts.
The first minutes of the ball creep by with no sign of Alia. As my insides churn, the sun fades beyond the windows. The world outside grows pink, then violet, and finally settles into a deep blue. Amber light silhouettes dancing guests against the darkened glass.
Nothing.
A few times, I catch glances darting my way — my father’s, my mother’s, some of the advisors he surely informed. I stand silent and alone, waiting. Begging the doorway to reveal her. My thoughts tangle themselves up to match my stomach, and memories from seven years ago swell to burn my throat. Heat engulfs my chest until I can barely see straight.
I don’t want to believe it. Can’t accept that history has simply repeated itself.
She promised to be here. Shepromised. She knows what this night means to me, to us. For us.
I stop myself dead, both hands balling into fists.
No, I sent soldiers. If she’s not here, something’s wrong.
Magic sizzles through my veins, itching for release. Seething with a resolve fierce enough to steal my breath.
I won’t fail her again.
I signal to Harran and several of the other nearest guards and blow out of the ballroom. Puzzled shouts and voices rise behind me, but I don’t look back. Barely look over as soldiers either fall in with me or move to secure the room.
