Page 134 of The Curse of Golden Blood
Ylvena's perfect composure cracked just slightly. A flicker of something that might have been annoyance. "Innocent? There are no innocent people in war, Miralyte. Only those too naive to understand the stakes."
"The stakes." I tested the golden chains again, feeling them drink the heat from my skin like hungry parasites. "And what exactly are those stakes? Your wounded pride? Your fear that someone might challenge your pretty throne?"
"My fear?" She laughed, the sound sharp enough to cut. "Child, you have no idea what real fear looks like. What it means to hold power when the alternative is watching everything burn."
"Funny. That's exactly what you're threatening to do."
The blade at Pelbie's throat pressed deeper. A thin line of blood appeared where steel met flesh. Pelbie's eyes found mine, steady despite the pain. Despite the terror she had to be feeling.
She mouthed something. A single word I couldn't quite make out.
"You think I killed her for politics? For some petty grab at power?"
"Didn't you?"
Ylvena's white eyes held something that might have been pity. "Tell me, sister. Do you remember the day you arrived at the hunter's home?"
The question hit like ice water. I tried to think back, to grasp those precious fragments of childhood that had sustained me through every dark moment since coming to this realm.
Nothing came.
"I... I was young. Ciradyl and I were—" My voice faltered.
"You weren't sisters, Miralyte. Not by blood." Ylvena moved closer, her voice almost gentle. "Ciradyl was the hunter's true daughter. You were the changeling left in her cradle."
I met her gaze steadily, feeling something solid and unshakeable settle in my chest. "Blood doesn't make a sister, Ylvena. Ciradyl was more family to me in the few years I knew her than you ever were."
Ylvena's expression flickered, as if she hadn't expected that response.
"The real infant, the hunter's true daughter, was slain that night," she continued, but there was less certainty in her voice now. "I made it so, claiming her as Emystras's child to hide you. The realm believed you were the one who died."
I stood perfectly still, letting her words settle between us. The truth didn't surprise me as much as it should have—perhaps some part of me had always known there were pieces missing from my earliest memories.
"Ciradyl was your sister only because she chose to be," Ylvena continued. "She loved you despite what you were. Raised you as family even after she discovered the truth."
"When did she find out?"
"Two years before her death." Ylvena began to pace, her robes trailing light like comet tails. "I was always watching, you understand. From the moment I left you in that cradle, I kept eyes on you. Made sure you were safe, that the magic I'd bound inside you stayed dormant."
"Bound?"
"Did you think it was a coincidence that your power never surfaced until you came to the fae realm?" Her smile was sad, almost apologetic. "I wove suppression into your very bones. Made it so the fae blood in your veins would sleep, silent and still, until the time was right. I even made you immune to fae magic—a protection, so no other court could sense what you were and steal you from me."
The rot. The realization hit like a thunderbolt. That's why I'd been immune when it should have killed me.
"But some things are impossible to hide completely," Ylvena continued. "Your true heritage had a way of... bleeding through. Small things. Subtle things that a mortal might not notice."
"But Ciradyl noticed."
"She was observant, your sister. She saw how magical creatures were drawn to you. How birds would land on your shoulders without fear, how the forest went quiet and watchful when you passed through. The way moonlight seemed to cling to your skin on certain nights." Ylvena's voice grew softer. "She noticed how you never fell ill, how cuts healed faster than they should. How your eyes would catch the light like a cat's in certain angles."
My throat tightened. I remembered those moments. Ciradyl asking me odd questions. Watching me with an expression I'd thought was concern but now realized might have been something else entirely.
Fear. Understanding. Grief for what it meant.
"She started testing you," Ylvena said. "Small things. Leaving iron near your bed to see if you'd react. Sprinkling salt across thresholds to see if you'd hesitate. Watching to see if you cast a reflection in silver mirrors."
"I did cast a reflection," I whispered.
