Page 64 of Callista and the Elf

“Like losing my brother.”

“So you were willing to face one terrifying thing to spare yourself from another?”

She smirked. “Pretty much.” As I set the tray on the large desk in my private room and gestured for her to take the chair, she added, “Unfortunately for you, I discovered you weren’t quite as terrifying as you wanted everyone to believe. You have a streak of goodness that embodies honor and justice, and it’s such a core part of you that even thirteen years of a curse haven’t been able to erase it. And—”

I set a bowl of pumpkin-scented soup in front of her. “Oh, this smells amazing.”

I picked up another chair and brought it to the small side of the table, adjacent to her. “Were you going to finish telling me why I am not so terrifying?”

A light pink lit up her cheeks. “Oh, no,” she said, filling a spoon with spiced broth. “I think it would be much better to eat now.”

When she finished eating, she slid the tray onto the empty half of the desk and rubbed her hands together. “Are you ready for this?”

I jumped up and brought the Secrets book to the table. I held it as I sat down and then ran my hand over the cover, letting the tingling magic that rose from it flick against my skin. How I had longed to know the things my father and grandmother believed were so important and secret that they were worth a second language. And not just any language—the language of our enemies.

The book had been bound at least a thousand years ago, but magic kept it in pristine condition. I handed it to Callista. “I have wanted to know what was in this for fourteen years, since I was first crowned king and discovered it in the King’s Private Library. But I will only hear it through your voice.”

She took the book… and my hand. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” She squeezed my hand before letting go and opening the cover.

The first page held drawings of flowers, vines, butterflies, and birds. I’d stared at it hundreds of times, but I didn’t want to rush Callista. She moved her hand slowly over each image. “Every image pulses magic a little differently,” she said. “I could study it for hours, but… I’ll come back to it.”

She turned the page to another one I had memorized. This was mostly blank with two words tidily drawn into the middle—two words that I could not read. “Our Story,” Callista said, smiling. “The magic that emanates from this page pulses with emotion. I can feel love and satisfaction and happiness.”

Strange. I’d imagined those same feelings as I’d studied the book, wishing my head would simply make sense of the words if I looked at them long enough.

She turned another page, landed on the first full page of text, set her finger under the words on the top line, and started reading.

“After surviving the ordeal of the last few years and finally finding a… degree of peace and happiness, Dustan suggested I write down our story. I agreed with him, though (for reasons you’ll understand soon enough) I am insisting we write it in the Mother Tongue. We’ve already agreed that our children will learn it as adults, and they are the people I am writing for. I want them to know the power in their blood and the strength they carry as part of our family.

“And so I write to you, my children, and my children’s children. I know that if we can survive the things we have survived, you can triumph over anything you must deal with.”

She looked up at me, her eyes so moist I didn’t know how she was reading through them. “She loved you before you were even born. I wish I had something like this from Motab.”

I reached out and wrapped a hand around hers, trying to swallow my emotions, but failing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed the top of my hand with her free hand and blinked. “I know. Let’s keep going.” Her fingers maneuvered out from under mine and underlined the words as she went again.

“Let the record show that I, Ember, Queen of Hemlit and wife of Dustan, was born a princess in a fae kingdom that does not bear recording.”

Callista’s eyes widened, and her jaw fell. She glanced up at me, then rushed to read more.

“As my children, you are half fae and half elf. The elves and fae have a long history that is more entwined than either likes to acknowledge, but you have access to more power than any in either realm because you have such a fresh inheritance from both worlds.”

She stopped reading again, but I couldn’t look at her. Everything faded out of focus, and the floor fell out from beneath me. I tried to grab the table to stabilize myself, but I couldn’t. It was too smooth. How could I be part fae? The same people that I’d hated for so many years? How could I not know who I was—what I was—

But a hand gripped mine. Smaller than mine, not as hot, but real. Real and stable. I grabbed onto it with my other hand and felt another land on top of it. I stared at them—our four hands—holding onto each other, and then I saw a person behind them. Callista. Her hands.

She came into focus, staring at me with bright, blue eyes. “Breathe, Aedan,” she whispered.

And I did.

“Keep breathing.”

I forced another scrap of air into my lungs. Over and over.

Each breath shook a little less. Each took a little less effort.

And the room started to come back into focus. The library. Desk. Floor. None of it had actually moved. It had all happened in my head. Because I had just learned everything I’d known about myself was wrong.

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