Page 3 of Omission: Part 2

Not because they’re evil or uncaring, but to escape. Protect themselves.

If anyone knew I’m a healer?—

“Stop,” Mom says, her voice a lot steadier after only a few seconds, and she pulls my hand down. Keeps it in hers while giving it a small squeeze. There’s a bit of reproach in her expression, but it’s mixed with appreciation and I smile at her. Won’t deny that I’m a bit faint now, that my body wants to shut down and sleep, but I force myself to stay alert.It’s worth it to see her with more color in her cheeks.“I’m good, child. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’d never leave you to suffer if I can help.”

“And that’s my biggest fear.” At the confusion on my face, Mom sighs. “I don’t want you to heal me, sweetheart. Don’t put yourself in his path. Your father must never know of your gifts.”

“But I felt the?—”

“Poison?” Her tone is so flat. Detached and resigned. “You felt it?”

“Yes.”

“Then let it be.”

“Maman!” I whisper yell, so angry she’d even suggest that. “How can you expect?—”

“I demand it as your queen.”

“Mother, please don’t.”

“I will do what I must.” As a true royal from the original bloodline, her word is above my father’s, something he knows and hates. It’s why he threatens her with hurting me if she doesn’t comply with his authority while playing the same mind games with me. To keep us docile in front of every fae subject. To keep his chauvinistic agendas growing. “Not something I like doing, but don’t force my hand, Aya. Trust that what I do, I do with your well-being at heart.”

“Who?”

“The better question is—are your senses dulled?”

“No.” Swallowing hard, I close my eyes for a second, just enough to gather myself before meeting her unwavering stare. “I think I’m just used to it.”

“Surrounded by it.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know the answer.” The low chatter of someone outside in the hall filters into the room, and we stay quiet as the women complain about the mess made by my brother, Ruben. They’re diligent and gone within minutes, yet our ears stay perked up until their scents dissipate and Maman is satisfied they're gone. “We’ve wasted too much time. Please listen to everything I have to say and try to save your questions for another day. Can you do that for me?”

“I vow it.”

“Thank you.” The expression on her face is one of peace while she squeezes my hand tight. Her room is cold and I shiver, something Maman picks up on quickly, and her pure white wings extend before the one on my side shifts to surround me. A hug from our mother queen and I snuggle in close, laying my head on her shoulder. Exhaustion is starting to become a problem for me, but I force myself to pay attention when she starts talking again. Her voice is low. “Pure-hearted faes are easier to distinguish when you know what you’re looking for, my little Aya. Those with the dark sickness reek of it—it clings to their being—and you need to heed that warning, young one. Those high-priced sentences are paid for by their magical essence, rotting them from within for wielding forbidden magic.”

“Only the fae, Maman?”

“Not another question,” she chides softly, “but no.” Her face is sad, and she swallows hard—the hurt she carries for the sins of her people weighs heavily, but she does so silently. A true queen never complains. Never falters. “Every breathing creature can be tempted, and those that fall prey carry the pungent note.”

“But you?—”

Ignoring my inability to remain quiet, she tsks before carrying on. “That same magic is being used on me, by your father. He feeds me a dose every day via my morning duties as his mate. I hear his low incantations, smell the vileness, and know my time is coming.” Maman lifts her shoulder a bit, so I look up and now find her violet eyes…happy.Proud. “They might win against me, ma princesse, but not you. You are stronger and fiercer than what you believe and will one day rule more than one kingdom with a male as pure-hearted as you. And that man, my love, he will sweep you off your feet.”

“How do you?—”

I’m cut off this time by the snarled tone of my father; he’s yelling at someone, and it’s coming from the end of the hallway. Mother’s chambers are a floor below his and if he’s gracing us with his presence, it’s because I’m needed to play host or finish my duties as the dutiful daughter while hisunwellmate rests.

“Your mate will be yourpeace. He will be everything you’ve ever dreamed of...” Mother’s words are rushed now, an almost unintelligible whisper “…sweet, caring, and will put you above all else. Including his hatred. His need for vengeance.”

“His hatred, Maman? Vengeance?”

Yet before she can answer, her bedroom door is opened wide and my father, the king of all faes, stands at the entrance. His stare is accusatory. Always distrustful. “There you are, Anaya. Your grandfather has been looking for you.”

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