Page 161 of Court of the Fae Princes

Damn fae. “Oh, really?” This woman is playing some fucking mind games.

“Not the least bit… because your mother is brave too.”

I stare at her. She doesn’t explain further, and I feel my eye twitching. “My mother? You’ve met my mother?”

What the hell does this Keeper of Death have to do with my mother? Was she the one who killed her? The question makes a pit form in my stomach. My father had always refused to tell me much about how she died. The assumption was that it was during childbirth.

When she doesn’t answer, I ask, “And how did you meet my mother exactly?”

Part of me wants to know. Part of me feels like this is some fae trickery, a way to distract me from my men and why I’m here, but I won’t be fooled. I’m watching the dozens of dead soldiers around the room, as much as I can in the shadows. If she wants to surprise me, she won’t.

“Oh, Cassia, how little you know. Your father must be as good at lying as he is at making love.”

I stare. “Gross.” What the hell else am I supposed to say to that? “There’s no way you and my dad… besides, my dad is many things, but not a liar. We both know you’re just trying to get in my head.”

“Hardly, Cassia,” she says my name again, but almost tenderly. “What I’m trying to explain to you, but you don’t seem to be getting, is that I’m your mother.”

I stare at her in disbelief, then laugh. “You can’t be my mother.”

This fae is trickier than I ever imagined. Perhaps she learned that my mother was the one person not involved in my life, or heard about her early death. If she thought this was going to be used against me, she’s wrong.

Her eyes shine like shards of ice. “Oh, but I am, Cassia,” she says, and I’ve officially decided I hate the sound of my name on her lips.

I shake my head, unwilling to play these games with her. “No, my mother was mortal, and she died. I know my history, so if you want to play mind games, you better play them better.”

She cackles, and I feel that something inside of me grow warmer. More powerful. “Your father must have spun you such a pretty tale to protect you from the truth, didn’t he?” She rolls her eyes in disgust and looks away.

“My father–”

“He has a great deal of fae in him, you know,” she continues, as if she’s remembering something from a time long ago. “Surprisingly, he never manifested any power. That’s what drew me to him. He was a powerful fae who couldn’t access his powers. I was a powerful fae who wanted a child, and none of the other men I’d been with had produced the heir I so desperately desired. So, I took a gamble.” She stares off into the distance, a smile playing across her lips.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You will,” she says, her voice void of emotion. “But my powers proved too great for him. It cost him the use of his legs.”

“The accident?” I whisper. She was that accident? I don’t believe it… even though he’s never told me how it happened.

I’m starting to realize that my father didn’t tell me as much as I’d thought. There are secrets in my family history, secrets I’ve been too busy to think about. Now though, I wish that wasn’t the case. If he’d told me, doubts wouldn’t be forming in my mind now about the truth of her words.

She taps her long nails on the arm of her throne. “It wasn’t so much an accident. More like a consequence of the spells that were used to ensure our love-making resulted in a pregnancy.”

My breath catches in my throat. That can’t be possible. I can’t be the reason my father lost his legs. Words float in my mind. How many times had my father told me that I was worth everything he’s sacrificed and more? Or some variation of that?

I can’t take my eyes off of her. Let’s play along here and see if we can untangle this as I do. “Was I another consequence of you being together?” Is that what she wants me to believe?

“Yes, another useless consequence. My hopes that you’d have powers to rival mine were dashed away shortly after your birth. You were just like your father. So much power, and no way to access it.” A scowl emerges on her face, as if the thought of me as a baby pisses her off.

“I don’t believe you.”

She smiles. “Do you know how the House of Death’s children grow up? Death is drawn to them from the day they’re born. Dead birds line the trees. Dead creatures emerge from the ground. Eventually, dead rise from their graves. Since your powers have emerged, you’ve been seeing such signs, am I correct?”

I know she sees the truth on my face before I can hide it by the way her smile widens. “You sent those creatures. Not me. I’m not your daughter. I’m not like you.”

“And you feel the power within you. It’s been growing since you came home, to the Kingdom of the Dead. It’s within you. Growing warmer. Growing bigger. And with powers like yours, even our dead are responding to you, aren’t they?”

I think of how the dead pointed down the hall when I asked them. Is that not normal? Do the dead not respond to the other fae?

“None of that is true.”

---