Page 32 of How to Keep a Fae

“It was different then,” I say. “They were not mine.”

“Adaline,” she says. “I love you well. You are the sister of my heart, and I tell you this bluntly, not out of cruelty, but because you must be strong. They are not yours. They were merely gifted to you for a time. I pray that when this is over, they will be yet again. But we do not get to choose. They are never truly yours unless they claim you as a mate.”

I sob piteously at her words, even though I know they are the truth.

“There are ways,” I say. “You said there were ways. If I could have hidden my heat, maybe... Maybe forgone the herbs.”

“There are rumors,” she says. “That is all any of us have. And who knows, perhaps this is better than becoming like Denna, where she never feeds or experiences intimacy ever again. Losing a man you love is hard enough. Losing a mate is a thousand times more devastating. Trying to go through your heat without the herbs might also have hurt you badly, or worse… Please don’t ask me to do that again. I cannot be the one who watches you die. And think of August and Jayga. Think of what it would do to them when they returned and found you too far gone even to tend. Maybe lost to them completely.”

Her words rock me. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks.

I was not in possession of my wits when I begged her to help. My actions were selfish and borne of desperation. I am not alone. My actions have consequences for those I care most deeply about.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I should not have asked that of you. Nor been frivolous with the life that the Goddess gave to me. If the risks impacted me and me alone, I would take them in a heartbeat.”

She pulls me to her, tucking my head against her chest while I cry. “I know you would,” she says. “I know.”

Time passes, my tears ease. I feel wrung out, not only from my heat, but from the weight of many secrets.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I say. My heart thuds sickly beat inside my chest. “What you told me about Denna, about her being mated. I didn’t know that part.” I can feel her confusion although she continues her gentle strokes and does not interrupt. I swallow. “But I do know that the warrior who died, the one she loved, the reason she became a house mistress and not a feeder anymore, was the father of her first and only child.”

She stills, then her hands tighten. “Oh, love, sweet Adaline. I didn’t know.”

“How could you,” I say bitterly. “It’s not like she ever lets it show.”

Chapter Twelve

August

When I enter the practice chamber, my father is talking to Cecil. Aurelius cuts an imposing figure with his long ebony hair tied at his nape and his burgundy silk suit with silver embroidery trim. We are of height, although his build is a little leaner.

His presence here sends me reeling.

I’ve been reeling since I got back from my last patrol, and they allocated me to another feeder because Adaline was in heat.

The thought of her suffering through her heat, even with herbs, makes my gut churn. I’d taken from the feeder offered to me via her wrist. A transaction, nothing more. The spark I used to feel with a feeder, any feeder, was simply no longer there. She’d been accepting and did not appear to be traumatized by my rejection that I could see.

It made sense. Sometimes, warriors needed to take fromothers even if they were mated and vice versa. It didn’t always have to be about intimacy.

The warning bells should have been ringing at the time. That only happened later when Jayga, wild-eyed, slammed me into the wall and demanded to know if I had betrayed our queen. He wasn’t looking to get one over on me. Nor hoping I had fucked up to better facilitate his own claim. No, he was protecting the emotional well-being of the woman he loved.

It pissed me off that he would doubt me even if I did understand the underlying emotions driving his actions.

“What the fuck is an imperial doing down here?” Jayga mutters, sidling up next to me. He’s not looking for an answer. It’s more an expression of mistrust. He is not the only warrior in the room eyeballing Aurelius with wary interest.

Imperial.

The word leaves a bad taste in my mouth. My father is so much more than a mere imperial. To the warriors here, the term is close enough. Beneath his regal attire lurks a warrior whose skills have been perfected over many centuries—at least I have long suspected as much. But it is his imperial blood that elevates him to something far beyond that humble rank. He plays the role of diplomat now, but he has played many roles over his long life.

He lived through the great battle of Sendar. He is extraordinary in every way.

“He looks a bit like you,” Jayga muses.

My father turns, and his steady gaze locks on me.

“Very similar,” Jayga continues, oblivious to the warning bells still clanging in my head. “Uncanny, actually.”

“That is understandable,” I say slowly. The unease amplifies the longer Aurelius continues to hold my gaze. “He is my father,after all.”

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