Page 31 of Fated In Forever
In retrospect, I should have expected this. Should have known the best way to get answers from a stranger—especially an enemy—was to get them to relax, catch them off kilter, then hit them with questions.
Still, afternoon tea was better than a dungeon, any time.
“Silas would tell you we’re a well-kept Silverwood secret, but that would be a lie.” I decided fuck it, if this was my last meal, I was damn well going to enjoy it. My first bite of that buttery scone melted in my mouth and I nearly moaned.
“Mom took us away from Silas when we were fairly young, and we spent most of our lives on the run. Hence the no-friends rule.” I shrugged, wondering if this high tea was about to get cut short by a stampede of guards charging out of the castle and tossing me into the dungeon.
“I’m not a slayer. I never really was one. The truth is, I finally feel like I’m becoming who I was meant to be.”
“Where is Silas now? And his brothers?”
I knew this was more of an interrogation than girl talk, and I understood Aisling’s suspicions. She had a protective nature, and my mere existence in this castle was a threat, no matter who vouched for me.
Add Malachi into the equation…she had to be having second thoughts.
“Silas is dead, as of about two weeks ago.” Unbidden, his decaying face flashed through my head and I set the scone down. “Blake killed him, which was a mercy. Like him, my uncles are now Ravok’s thralls. They’re no more than dried up husks now, but he’s keeping them alive, for some reason. Spite, perhaps.”
“How did Ravok cross paths with your family? Not chance, I expect?”
She deserved the truth, so I dove into the whole Tyrell-Silverwood devil’s bargain—what little I knew, and what was conjecture—then skimmed over Riordan’s week-long possession by a still-asleep Ravok, our ongoing war, and us tracking Ravok to France, only to walk straight into a trap.
I could have argued for understanding, told her how much I despised my father and uncles, delved into every horrid thing they’d ever done to me, but Aisling wouldn’t be swayed by pity.
“Blood doesn’t make me who I am. If anything, being turned made me see my life so much clearer. I always knew my father and uncles were monsters, but after what happened that night at Tyrell’s, I realized their atrocities went far beyond anything I thought them capable of.”
She studied me for another moment, then reached for her tea and took a sip.
“My mother was queen of this clan. Of course, I didn’t know that. She gave birth to me in secret, Brendan kept me hidden, and I was brought up thinking my real mother had died.” She slanted me a look. “I know…I should write a book, right?”
“Sometimes I think the same thing.” I peered up through the branches, wondering if it was my imagination that the leaves were gilded with gold. “But who would believe me?”
“You are so right.” She topped off our cups, then emptied the rest of the pot into the roses. “Your mother…she’s dead, I take it?”
I dipped my head, my throat closing up, eyes burning. This…onslaughtalways happened at the most unexpected times, and for a second, I couldn’t speak. “Yes.” I hated how hoarse I sounded, trying to swallow down the grief. “By Silas’s hand. She told us to run, gave us time to get away.”
Aisling drummed her fingers on the table, staring out across the gardens and beyond, to the green hills cut with low stone walls and dotted by sheep.
“My mother always protected me, even when I didn’t know who she was. She took great care to keep me hidden, and then…” she swallowed hard. “Even at the end, she protected me, when I needed it most. And that protection cost Lyra her life.”
“It’s hard, knowing you owe someone a debt you can never repay,” I said quietly, knowing that sorry didn’t begin to touch what it meant to lose a mother. “There are days I would give anything to have my mom back, to ask her all the questions I never got a chance to ask. But…well, that will never happen now.”
“Lyra taught me everything I know about being a queen. Esme taught me everything about wisdom, and Valentine…she keeps me looking good. Who is teaching you, Evangeline?”
“Fiona.” I murmured. “She’s helped me with my magic, but Riordan’s mother, who would be the previous queen, she died when he was young, and the rest of the royals I’ve met…well…”
Aisling’s lip curled. “Say no more. Most of them can rot, but there are a few decent enough ones.” Then she laughed. “But only a few. Anyway, once this current shitshow is over, and things settle down, I would be available, you know.” Her eyes glowed. “For queen training.”
I was already shaking my head. “I am so not queen material. In fact, I’m more like serf material, so all the training in the world wouldn’t help me.”
“And yet, you know how to handle a knife, and your magic…Nikolai tells me you’re a fast learner?”
“So far. Riordan and Blake have been good teachers. And Malachi, though most of our practicing was when I was trying to kill him.”
“Magic-wise, I was a shitshow of epic proportions. Nearly burned down half the castle once, if you can believe it. You can learn how to do anything, is my point. And once Ravok is gone, and this rift business is over…”
“You’re assuming it will be?”
“What can I say, I’m an optimist. What I do know is when this is over and Riordan sits on the throne, you will be sitting beside him.” I was already shaking my head, but she raised a hand. “And while you are smart and can clearly sniff out bullshit, there are certain skills you will require to be effective in that role. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a bunch of bloodthirsty savages at heart.”
