Page 37 of The Secret Keeper's Daughter

My mother is gone, and the one thing she left me is now back with Gunnar—the one person she must have been trying to keep it from. If she hadn’t been worried about him, she’d have told me about the sword and let me have it.

I hate Gunnar for everything he’s taken from me. He promised Mother he’d always care for me as his own daughter. Did she suspect he was lying? The sword makes me think so. She wanted me to have another option.

It took me less than twenty-four hours to ruin that.

I stare at my right palm and will it to glow, even faintly. It’s so dim in this cabin I should be able to see even the slightest bit of orange.

Nothing.

I throw my hands in the air and flop back on one of the two tiny beds, landing with a thud. The mattresses are stiff and havelittle give. I can’t imagine Harek’s family staying here often. It’s clearly for emergencies only.

Exhaustion presses on my bones, and I close my eyes. May as well try to get some sleep while waiting for Harek to return. He mentioned something about sleeping in shifts, and he’s bound to be wiped out when he gets back. I’ll rest now so he can sleep during the first shift.

My heavy eyelids close, and fatigue wraps around me like a heavy blanket. Just as I’m about to drift off, something lights up on the other side of my closed eyes.

I bolt upright and look around. Nothing is out of place. I listen for any sound.

Silence.

Must’ve been my imagination. I fluff the thin pillow, and that’s when I see it.

An orange glow. It’s coming from my palm.

My heart slams against my ribcage as I pull my hand up. The skin is glowing like before.

Impossible. My father’s sword must be back at the farm with Gunnar by now. Yet my palm is not only glowing, but it’s getting brighter by the moment.

Dizziness envelops me as I try to make sense of it. Just when I thought everything made sense, now it’s all flipped on its head again. Could Harek have found Gunnar, taken the sword, and returned already? That doesn’t seem possible, although a day ago I would’ve sworn that Harek being a werewolf or me being fae was also impossible. I can’t trust anything I know anymore.

I’m also too tired to figure out what this glow means or why I woke with a start. For all I know, this is all a bad dream. The cabin is protected from people seeing it, so I should rest while I’m safe. Harek is sure to need sleep when he comes back. I can only imagine what shifting puts his body through.

The thought sends a shiver through me. Going from human to wolf must be so painful. Yet he seemed to turn in the blink of an eye. I can ask him about that later.

A yawn escapes, and I roll over. Just as I’m about to close my eyes, my palm grows even brighter than a moment ago. I bring my hand back to the other side of the bed. The glow dims. Then I swing my arm back to the other side. It brightens.

My hand must be trying to tell me something, but what?

I inch it closer to the wall. The orange lights up more. It’s getting brighter the more I move it in this direction.

Something is going on, and I need to figure out what. I scoot as far as I can on the bed until I’m pressed against the wall.

My palm is even brighter now. Unless Harek found my father’s sword and is on the other side of the wall, I’ve misinterpreted everything about this. My palm’s activity doesn’t have anything to do with the sword—or at the very least, they aren’t as interrelated as I thought.

This is a good thing. Since I don’t have anyone to teach me what any of this means, at least I’m moving closer to understanding on my own. And Harek might know more than he’s let on. He’d already kept a massive secret. There’s no telling what else he’s been hiding from me.

Anger roils in my gut, and the orange glow brightens. Does that have to do with my emotions? I just got mad and it lit up more. Maybe I was dreaming about Harek, and that’s what caused it to light up in the first place.

This is all so confusing. If the glow and the sword have nothing to do with each other, and the orange light comes from my anger, this shouldn’t be new. I get furious with Gunnar on a daily basis. The way he treats me when Mother isn’t looking has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember, but the orange light is new. Fury can’t be causing this.

Unless my mother’s death somehow triggered all of this. Grief causing my hand to light up? That doesn’t make sense. How would that be useful? No, it has to be something else. Maybe her death cut, or loosened, my ties with humanity.

This is so confusing. If only she’d told me more. She must’ve thought she had more time. I wish she did, even if she never told me anything about my father.

Tears well, blurring my vision. Sobs make their way to my throat, choking me. Now more than ever, I need her and her advice. Who am I supposed to turn to in her absence?

My father—assuming he’s still alive. He can help me. Whatever my half-powers are, he has them fully and has certainly spent his entire life learning about them. Even if he wants nothing to do with me, he can at least spare a little time to help me. I’ll demand it. He probably sent my mother away, not wanting anything to do with a halfling. That’s the only explanation for her fleeing to the nearest human establishment and marrying Gunnar. At least he treated her well, even if he hated me.

I pull the blankets toward my face to give into my cries when my glowing palm fades. It’s enough to make me want to break something. In fact, I think I will. Harek will have to understand, given he kept such a huge secret from me all of our lives. Best friends, indeed.

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