Page 25 of Crown of Wrath

He’s not mad at me. Gods, he’s not mad at all. “It was a dream, Da. She wasn’t there, or I’d have found her.”

Da stares at me for a few moments, and I see the tears welling up in his eyes. “Fifteen years? I’ve missed fifteen years of your life?”

The questions die in the silence, and I just hug him. What do you say to that? It only makes me feel so much worse. I’m the reason he missed those fifteen years. He doesn’t push, though, and he hugs me back. He pulls back and looks at me, a single tear having made a trail down his cheek. “Well, you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

I smile at him, not sure how to respond to that after the past months. Instead, I ignore it. “How did you survive?” I ask him. “You should have died.”

My father is a handsome man. He always was, and it’s not the dark brown hair that falls nearly to his shoulders or the soft smile he wears. It’s his eyes. They’re so kind and caring, and yet for all that kindness, he’s always had a kind of kenning to him. It’s an innate understanding of the world and the people in it. He’s always just… understood things. He is not a genius, and he is not a powerful High Fae, but he understands things that should be beyond him.

“I called for your mother,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I followed the thread to her like she taught me before she left.” He frowns for a moment. “Did you really send me to the dark place?”

I nod. “I did. I’m so sorry.” He followed the thread? “Wait. Did you… did you and mother get married like Trevor and Prudence did? Or did you do something different? Something from her people?”

He smiles at me, those soft brown eyes laughing rather than crying like I am. “What we did was something out of a storybook, Little Star. We didn’t see a priest. Brenna—your mother—said we didn’t need one, and that all we needed was a night when the moon hung low. We held hands…”

“…and kissed. And magic happened,” I finish. He nods. “Your souls were bound. She… she could protect you from wherever she is.”

My father just shrugs. “I don’t know. I dreamed of her, of a life with her and you, and then you woke me up. Has it really been fifteen years?”

I nod to him again. “Fifteen years.” The words come out harder than they should. More serious. What’s happened to me in the past three months? This is my Da, not a military commander. “I’ve missed you so much,” I say.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he looks around the cottage. “I’m sure it must have been hard being alone. Vesta took care of you?” His eyes take in everything, one piece at a time. The simple oak beds and dressers. The handwoven brown and green rugs that the villagers of Aerwyn made since the last time I was here.

All of it is not home, and he knows it.

“Vesta convinced Uncle Trevor and Aunt Prudence to take care of me, and she continued to be my tutor.” He nods, his mind elsewhere.

Finally, he stops and takes my hands. He feels so warm. It’s been so long since someone touched me without a real purpose. “Little Star, where are we? I know it’s been a long time, but this doesn’t seem like home.”

“Somewhere safe.” I grit my teeth. “Blackgrove is gone, Father.”

The words drag him from his thoughts, and shock floods his face. “Everyone?” The word comes out as a whisper. “What happened?”

“The Nothing. A…” How do you explain it? “A mist that consumes everything. It swept through Blackgrove and killed everyone except me, Prudence, and Trevor.”

He frowns. “Hazel?”

I nod, and he pulls me in for a hug. Tight and warm and full of human emotion without a bit of power behind it. It’s just sadness, overwhelming and honest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to me, his hands gripping tight against my midnight dress that’s become solid enough for him to hold. “She was a sweet girl.”

“The sweetest,” I agree. And, for the first time, I feel the ice around my heart cracking. The hardness I’ve built up around myself loosens. “I…”

The words won't come, but he doesn't let go. He holds me, steady and unshaken, just like I remember, and the tears break free from the icy dam I've created. For the first time, they fall unchecked, streaming down my face and soaking his shoulder. “There, there,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here for you.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. You did nothing wrong. It was me. It’s all my fault you were gone. It’s my fault that Hazel’s gone, too.”

Father runs his hand through my thick brown hair. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he whispers. “You’re just as sweet as Hazel. Maybe more so. You have your mother’s kindness in you, and there is no one kinder.”

I blink and pull away from my father. “My mother is not kind. She… She manipulated everything, Father. Everything she ever did was a lie. I grew up not knowing that she was Fae. I didn’t know I had any powers.”

He grins at me. “Was it such a terrible thing? Was it even a lie, or was it necessary for your safety? You just told me you tried to kill me when I told you the truth. Maybe you weren’t old enough for the truth?”

I pause. “But she hid the fact that I had magic.”

Da looks me square in the eye, and I can’t help but compare him to Vesta. Vesta’s word was law—unyielding and absolute.But Da’s? Da’s word was love. If it had been Vesta saying this, she would’ve called me insolent, scolded me for not controlling myself. And I would’ve been angry, defensive, and frustrated. But Da’s words? They make me feel like I’ve done something unforgivable, like I’m cruel for even thinking it. Da’s criticism doesn’t strike at my pride; it cuts straight to my heart. No matter how much I want to argue, I never can.

He wipes the tears from my cheek, his voice soft but steady. “Vesta and I couldn’t protect you if you used magic. No five-year-old listens to their parents, Maeve, so the best thing we could do was hide your powers from you. It’s been years for you—but not for me. I remember you being eight just yesterday. I remember you coming to me, heartbroken, just three days ago when those children in town called you Wyrdling. Maeve, we did what we had to do to keep you safe.”

---