Page 130 of What Blooms from Death

“They’re more stable in this one, but yes, they’re capable of going into the Above. One of the few creatures we know of that can. Much like your dog.”

“…My dog?”

“Phantom is a vaehound. Like the vaekin, his kind are born of the energy of this world, and the first of their species was personally shaped by a Vaelora’s hand and infused with their magic. They don’t live and die in a natural way; their energy is more fluid, capable of something like reincarnation—much like the magic of the Vaelora themselves. Which is why you were able to keep him from dying, I suspect, even without your fully-realized powers. And why he regained even more of his formonce he returned to this world. Because even though he’s able to find form and power in both worlds, this world is his true home.” Her voice softened a bit as she added, “You two sort of have that in common.”

The dog in question was currently on his back, paws in the air, feigning surrender. Trying to lure the vaekin in with a false sense of security—I’d seen him use the same tactic with the birds back in Orin’s yard. It coaxed another small smile from me, despite the battles and uncertainties piling up around us.

“Your brother sent him to you, you know. There are a few wild packs of these dogs that roam close to Tarnath; he found your Phantom abandoned by one of them. A dangerous thing to take in, but…” She shook her head, a reluctant fondness in her expression. “The Regent has done far more dangerous things, I guess.”

I should have been flooded with gratitude, maybe. Because Phantom had saved my life more than once, and in more ways than one.

All I could think about, though, was how strange it was that I’d received such an enormous gift from this other world—this other life—and yet the truth hadstillbeen kept from me.

“Yet another thing I’ve spent years being clueless about,” I muttered.

Thalia tilted her face toward me, a rare shimmer of sympathy in her eyes.

“I just…I don’t understand how Orin could have kept so much from me.”

“He’s not a particularly good man,” she said flatly. “Though he serves his purpose for us well enough, I suppose.” Despite her measured tone, there was obvious hurt simmering in her expression—I’d noticed it a few times, now, whenever the subject of Orin came up.

Curiosity got the better of me, this time, and I couldn’t help but ask, “How well do you know him?”

“Not as well as I would have liked to.”

“What does that mean?”

She exhaled a slow, exasperated breath. “It means he abandoned me twenty-five years ago, shortly after you were born.”

“Abandoned…so he lived in this kingdom?”

“Yes.”

I stared at her, an uncomfortable possibility pressing into my thoughts.Her eyes. That strange amethyst shade…I’d seen similar eyes in only one other person. “Was he…is he related to you?”

A muscle ticked in her jaw. “My father.”

The words stole the breath from my lungs.

How many times was it going to happen—this feeling of being punched in the gut with knowledge?

How many more things was I clueless about?

“He chose to leave this palace so he could look after you, once the decision was made that your magic would overwhelm you if you stayed here,” she said. “And aside from a brief trip to bring your brother back to us, he hasn’t returned.”

Her cold, aloof attitude toward me suddenly made some sense—because it must have seemed like I’d stolen her father away from her. Another monstrous thing I’d inadvertently done.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I sank into a crouch, absently reaching for the vaekin that had started trying to unravel the laces of my boots.

“His duty as one of the Aethers always came first,” Thalia continued. “I don’t have many clear memories of our time together—I was only six when he left to protect you instead—but I do remember the distance he kept even before you came along.The distracted look that was always in his eyes, and how quick he was to race off to practice magic whenever he could.

“My magic is relatively weak, and so, I think…I think I was a disappointment to him. I don’t believe he even loved my mother, either; she was merely a servant in the palace, and—as you know—the Aetherkin live unnaturally long lives, and so I doubt she was his first or last love. She died years ago. We almost never talked about him, but…” She trailed off with a shrug.

I didn’t know what to say.

What could I possibly have said?

I had plenty of memories of him as a very different sort of man than the one she was describing. People were complex, after all—paintings made up of all different shades, strokes of light and dark that created depth on a canvas. But I kept this thought to myself. Somehow, I doubted she was ready to hear any heartwarming stories about the lighter shades of her father—especially not from me.

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