Page 42 of To No End

His eyes welled with tears, and he wiped them away on his shirt. My tears had betrayed me as well. I wanted to believe my father’s words, desperately. This romanticized version of what was happening to me, to them. Instead of fighting it, I let us both believe, in that moment, that it was true. He would never know if it was or wasn’t. I would let him have this.

“I think so, too, Father. I will make you proud. I promise.”

He smiled back at me through wet lashes, making his eyes sparkle like emeralds in the firelight. The same eyes I bore.

The raw emotion between us fashioned an opening, and before I knew it, I had begun an onslaught of questions that had been locked away in my mind for days.

“How many other sons and daughters do you think will arrive with me?” I asked quietly, just in case prying ears were listening.

My father looked pained, like he wanted to offer me answers he didn’t have.

“I’m not entirely sure. There aren’t many High Court families left to begin with. Not since the war. That goes for Royal and Honored members. The age of conscription is twenty. Our honored allies in House Huxley and House Kasparov have children too young to conscript.”

I clung to his every word for any bit of information that I could deem valuable.

“I have no idea if it’s true, but rumor amongst the High Court is that they do not accept those who are with child or raising children under the age of conscription. One can also assume they only accept those in good health,” he said.

I rolled my eyes; obviously, to protect and continue the bloodlines. Legacy and heirs above all else, right? Thinking through what he had said about how few families made up the court, I wondered to myself how many of those included ones with children younger than twenty.

Is that what I had to do to be excluded, just get myself pregnant? The pieces swirled in my mind like a puzzle as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Young, but not too young. Free of obligations like giving birth or raising children. Healthy. Independent. High Fae. Well, so far, they had me pegged.

“Is there anything else you’ve heard?” I questioned, hopeful for more information.

“It is said that the Offering came about because the first king of our lands was faced with a dire decision. One that required him to offer up all of his sons and daughters. They were referred to as the Forgotten Fae.”

My eyes widened at the horrible thought of a father giving away all of his children. But I remained silent and let my father continue.

“Henceforth, the king decreed that all families of the High Court would be required to make tribute as well, if called upon. Every family complied to show their gratitude for the great sacrifice, and it’s been upheld ever since.”

I took a deep breath, trying to fathom how many years back this had gone, wondering how many times the Offering had been called, how many faces and names were lost to time.

“Father, is there anything else you can tell me? Perhaps you have some books or texts on our histories?”

I prayed he had something that I could scour for more information, anything at all that might give me more insight regarding what was in store for me or that I could use to further decipher Aster’s words.

“Sadly, no. On this matter, little more is known, for the knowledge is protected and dangerous to seek.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“I need to tell you something, Cress. You must protect yourself. At all costs. I don’t care what you’ve been taught about etiquette, using your abilities, being a lady. None of that meansanything now. Just please be careful, and survive. Now is not the time to hold back. Guard everything, including your heart.”

I had never heard my father use such a direct tone with me. There was no longer sadness or worry, just intensity burning with a protectiveness that I knew had always existed in him but rarely needed to be shown. Before me was one of the guild leaders who had survived the Seafarer rebellion, who had encountered all sorts of vicious creatures and peoples along his travels and returned without a scratch. His words became brands in my mind. I spent the rest of the evening in his study, silently thumbing through random books and maps by his side.

We no longer offered each other words, only the comfort of one another’s company. A scene we had played out many times before, when he was preparing for travels or returning from them. Together in the study, we could pore over the things that excited us. Things that were a bore to Versa and my mother. This was ours.

Outside these walls, there was expectation and tradition. But alongside my father is where the dream of a life at sea was born. I kissed my father on the cheek before heading to bed.

That night, I tossed and turned in bed with the complicated decision of whether or not I’d spend the next morning packing things to make the return trip to Trace, or continue to play out my remaining days at home.

With the normalcy of daily life, the house felt more like home again. My leaving and all the lies we’d told no longer had to be the center of attention. With that, my anxiety and tension subsided.

When I awoke the next morning, I felt free and clear-minded. For the past few days, I’d wrestled with the decision of whether or not I’d return to Trace. Gris’s letter did not help ease myresolve. Once again, I couldn’t help but ask myself if I was I putting Trace in the same position, where I’d leave him wanting more than I could give? What mental state was I putting myself in, knowing I had developed deeper feelings? I knew this now, because each day apart, the longing and doubt ate away at my every thought.

Even though I had made my mind up to return to Trace and fill the void of his absence, I was able to be present at breakfast. I enjoyed witnessing the playful flirting between my mother and father. No matter the years that passed, their love for one another was obvious. I silently hoped the same for Versa and her betrothed. That her love would be a great one. But I would not have this luxury.

The gift of time and some long-drawn-out love story wouldn’t be mine. But I did have this—whatever this thing was—with Trace. I would relish that.

I gathered a much larger pack this time, filling it with more than a handful of undergarments, which made me smile to myself when folding. I wouldn’t be caught without them or smelling like pond water again. I was preparing to be gone for at least a week. I didn’t have a clue what he had in mind or how long he’d want to spend together, but I was going to make sure I was prepared. I included a handful of toiletries, but nothing fancy to keep up the charade that I did not come from wealth.

Versa came into my room as I was preparing my things. I had already warned her that I was going to go back to him and that I might stay longer than last time. She did not try to dissuade me, and only teased me to exercise some self-control this time. Each time she joked, I rolled my eyes.

---