Page 9 of Vale of Dreams

“Oh, Dame Nia,” he says. Still smiling, he leans forward and whispers, “I’m going to enjoy introducing your train wreck of a mother to everyone in Camelot. I want everyone to see exactly why someone of your rotten pedigree does not belong here at all. That’s the thing we always seem to ignore, isn’t it, when we pretend we’re so accepting of the demi-Fey? Because the fact is, your mother shagged one of those monsters, didn’t she? You’re not just half corrupt. You’re entirely corrupted. The child of a beast and a slag, that’s the breeding of your kind. And we’re all fine with it now, aren’t we, here in these accepting new times?”

After days of sleeplessness and lack of food, and then the conversation with Wrythe, I’m about to lose my temper. I want to bash his pasty face in. But of course, that’s what he wants—some way to prove that I can’t control my beastly Fey impulses.

He flutters his fingers at my mother with a fake smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Melisende.”

“Oh, call me Brandy,” my mom laughs lightly. “Mrs. Melisende is my mother.”

Trembling with rage, I watch him walk away, then let out a long breath and turn to face Mom. “Where are you staying?” I manage to say with a tight smile.

“Mr. Pendragon found me a cute place a few minutes from here.” She blinks. “It’s a bit small, to be honest, but he assured me it’s only temporary.”

“Okay. Um…did you have any breakfast?”

“I don’t eat breakfast, Nia. Have you already forgotten? I know it’s been a long time, but I didn’t think you’d forget everything about me so soon.”

“I didn’t forget you, Mom.” Of course she doesn’t eat breakfasts. Why waste the calories on food when you can simply use them to drink?

I return to her and put my arm around her shoulder. “Let me walk you back to your place, then. It’s a bit cold for you to be outside right now.”

“I was hoping you’d show me around.”

I clear my throat. “Maybe later. I have a job to do.”

“You need to drive someone?”

I grit my teeth. Naturally, Mom can’t know what I really do. “Not exactly. Something else.”

As we walk, she loops her arm through mine. “Nia, if you want to land a nice man like Tarquin, you really need to dress nicer. There’s dirt all over that cloak. When did you start wearing cloaks? It’s a bit strange, I think. And it covers up your figure. You want a clean, sleek line without pockets.”

“Land a nice man…” I’m so annoyed, I can hardly form clear thoughts at this point. “Mom, Tarquin’s not…there’s no way in hell?—”

“Oh, honey.” She pats my hand. “I know you think you’re not good enough. But he obviously cares about you. Do you really think he’d go through all the trouble of getting me here if he weren’t interested in you romantically? Now you just have to lure him in. He introduced me to his cousin Ginevra, and she’s beautiful, you know. She looks like I did when I was your age. She might be able to tell you where to shop.”

“Oh, gods,” I mutter. Ginevra hates me as much as Tarquin does. Possibly even more.

Everything about this is a nightmare. Being with my mother suddenly peels away the layers of confidence and worth I’ve found here. Underneath, I’m still the girl who would never be good enough. “Let’s not talk about clothes right now. What about you? How was your trip?”

“Long. But it was nice to have the suite.” She smooths her shirt. “You know, I was in this area about twenty-five years ago. Not Camelot, but Cornwall. Tintagel, I think. Lovely place. Great fried scallops.”

A shiver dances up my nape. “Was it twenty-seven years ago, perhaps?”

She frowns at me. “How did you know that?”

I let out a long sigh. “Just a lucky guess.” I’m twenty-six. I was conceived when my mom was in Cornwall.

“You could have sent for me, you know. You live in a castle now? You left me in that roach-infested apartment so you can live in a castle? They were trying to evict me when Sir Tarquin sent for me.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

“You’re my only child.” She sighs deeply. “I’ve always said that the best thing I ever did, my proudest achievement, was raising you. But I guess parenting doesn’t guarantee a child’s loyalty. Well…fine. This is where I’m staying.”

She waves at a two-story white stucco building with dark wood beams that crisscross the front. A sign hangs from a steep, gabled roof: Branwen’s Inn.

It looks nice enough. Leaded-glass windows overlook flowerpots, and the smell of coffee and baked bread wafts through the air. I was afraid that Tarquin would place her in the worst location in town. But that’s not what he’s planning. He wants her nearby and accessible so that he can introduce her to all his friends and acquaintances. To prove that all demi-Fey come from a twisted, dysfunctional background, and that none of us should be here.

But I’m not worried about anything Tarquin’s shitty friends might say. I’m worried for my mother’s safety—and my sanity.

“You know.” Her voice trembles, and she tucks my hair behind my ear. “You don’t even look happy to see me.”

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