Page 162 of Court of the Fae Princes

She seems amused by my denial. “Does your father still carve his little figures?” Suddenly, she produces a finely crafted wooden tree from her throne. “He always had a way with them.”

I feel sick. “It’s not possible.”

“And he’s the charmer, isn’t he? Even after he lost his ability to walk, I kept him around. He amused me. The man could make me laugh, he could tell a story, and he has the voice of an angel.”

He does. How does she know this? Is she guessing? She has to be guessing.

“But he had a weak heart. Far too soft. From the moment he set eyes on you, he was in love. He loved you more than he ever loved me. And when it was determined that your powers were locked away, a useless source of nothing, he disagreed with what had to be done.”

Had to be done?

My heart clenches as I grasp everything she’s telling me. “You…you gave me back to the woods.”

She nods, and her apathy freezes my blood. “It’s what we do with the weak ones–the ones who dilute our bloodline. It’s true that it’s rare for a fae to have more than one child, unless they’re mated to more than one man, but it’s believed that if the children are returned to the woods, we have a chance once more.”

If she’s telling the truth, she tossed me out like trash. A living child, all because of my lack of powers. “So my father…”

“He retrieved you,” she finishes my thought, but her disgust flows through her words. “I don’t know how he did it, how it was even possible, to drag himself out to the woods, to escape our lands without me noticing, and to hide you away with your grandmother. Truly, I’d thought you died and he fled because of my choice. I never thought–”

I picture my father, unable to use his legs, stuck in this dark place, witnessing these creatures tossing his daughter in the dark woods. She’s right. How he got out, how he saved me and brought me to safety, I’ll never know. But I believe he did it.

Something in my soul feels warm and cold at once. There are so many pieces from my past that feel like they’re sliding into place, so many missing pieces, even from my father, that make sense. Why he never spoke of my mother. Why he never spoke of how he was injured.

And then there’s this woman. My mother. The instant I think the words, something inside of me shifts. An acknowledgment. I believe her.

Tilting my head, I realize what was familiar now. We both have the same hair color, the same eyes, the same face shape. If I spent my life in the dark with the dead, letting my soul wither away, I might look like her when I grew older.

And I hate it. I hate the deep realization that she’s telling the truth. That she’s my mother. That this horrible woman and I share blood. She doesn’t deserve to share blood with me.

“Why does any of this matter? You threw me away. That’s the end of our story.”

She leans forward on her throne. “That was the end of our story. Until you matched with the princes. Until I felt your powers surge free. Until I realized a way to get everything I wanted and more. I only needed to find the right path through you to them.”

“The deal you made with them. You knew my answer would be no,” I whisper. The sound of my voice echoes through the chamber until it’s drowned out by her laughter.

She shrugs. “I took a gamble on it after utilizing my sources. After learning just how deep your distrust, fear, and hatred for the fae lay.”

No, she couldn’t have played me this easily. “And now you plan to what, take down the whole fucking kingdom?”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation. “The dead will rule. I will rule. And the fae will remember why they should always fear the House of the Dead.”

I snort. “That’s stupid.”

She lifts a brow.

“What’s to stop the good old iron demons from killing you?”

She smirks. “Perhaps my army of undead.”

I feel it. My powers inside of me, growing, warming. She’s right. This place… something about it is changing me. I can feel it. Fuck, I can sense every dead person in this room. I can sense if they were men or women, soldiers, healers, or something else. When I shift, I feel them shift, responding to me.

She stares. “Your power is blinding. Magnificent. One day, I’ll have a use for it.”

I shudder. “No.” My word whispers through the dead, through the crowd, to the castle, where more dead stiffen at my word.

“I know that your concerns lie with your father and grandmother. I know they are everything to you,” she says. “If you go to them now, I will gift you all the wealth, power, and privilege your life has been missing. You three will remain unharmed. I will give my word to you.” Her face is still, void of any emotion as she awaits my answer.

I glance away from her, and my gaze lands on the princes. This is all too much. Too much information. Yet, as I look at them, I know it’s not. I can handle this because nothing has truly changed. She’s dangling everything I’ve ever thought I wanted right in front of me. All I have to do is say the word.

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