Page 10 of Heir to His Court

Those too familiar summer sky eyes stared at me, serene. “You are. . .rude.” Maman’s even, slightly disapproving tones.

I pressed my eyes shut though I knew it was foolish, then opened them again. My mother's image simply folded her hands in front of her, lifting a thin brow.

This was a torture, and a gift. The Fae did so love their double-edged blades. The High Fae did so love their pleasure kissed with pain.

“You are not my mother,” I said.

“No, I am not. But I am the root of your mother's bloodline.” Juhainah paused. “Well met, granddaughter.”

“I amnot your granddaughter.”

Yes, yes, if Darkan were here, he would be incandescently furious, shouting instructions at me.

I would rather Renaud fed me to a hundred of his courtiers than face this.

“Whatever you wanted from me,” I said, “if it required my willing participation, you will not get it now.”

I wanted to say never, but I wasn't a complete fool. With my bank of memories returned, those years of training formed a more complete education. I hadn't had time to rifle through everything, but I better grasped that what I didn't know about the realms beyond Everenne crippled me.

“We will see. I had thought this form would comfort you. If I've made a mistake, I offer my apology. You are not my enemy, granddaughter.”

“Stop calling me—”

“You are not my enemy, and I bear you no ill will. It is not your destruction I desire.”

I held up a hand, my fingers trembling with the effort it took not to unravel. “Please forgive me, Exalted. If you desire coherent conversation with me, you'll need to give me a moment.”

I turned on my heel, giving her my back, and went through Susenne's breathing exercise. I had to indulge myself this much to have any hope of a calm conversation.

This bitch.

This infernal, manipulative bitch.

I didn’t have the skin for this. I needed time, and quiet.

Slowly, inexplicably, the crash of the waves against the shore soothed me. Juhainah had chosen our location well. This cliff side, this beach, this ocean would always be the place I thought of when I thought of comfort, and home.

Realization strangled the breath in my lungs for a second. For all my years fighting for Faronne, and peace in Everenne, it was Avallonne that was home. Avallonne I yearned for in the well of my soul. It made sense, after all, since this was the Kuthliele seat. How had my mother stood this ache?

But. . .how much of this ache was Raniel’s?Howentangled were our thoughts, our emotions?

“Grief is sharper in the young,” Juhainah said, stepping up to my side. She stood close enough that if I shifted, our arms would touch. “And richer in the old. It cuts babes, but drowns those past any claim of youth.”

My mother had died when I was so young. I had dreamed of standing with her side by side, looking out over our people in quiet discussion.

“Can you bring her back?” I asked—I had to ask, though it revealed how I might be manipulated.

Even as I asked, I anticipated Darkan’s—or Raniel’s—intense displeasure. But it wasn’t as if Juhainah didn’t already know.

“There is a twilight of time between life and death where I might intervene, but once gone cannot be reclaimed. I am sorry, child.” She gazed out at the ocean, her voice a gentle murmur, strands of her golden hair brushing my arm. “Does this form truly bring you no comfort? I can take another.”

“No. . .” Foolish of me. So foolish, Aerinne. But Darkan wasn't here to say so. “No. Let me have her for a few more minutes, even if it's a lie.”

She turned to me now, her eyes still kind, wise, calm. “It is not entirely lie.”

Another deep breath. “Why have you brought me here, Exalted?”

“Walk with me.”

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