Page 71 of A Story of Sinners

She waived me off and disappeared into the kitchenette, remerging with a kettle of tea and three cups. Motioning to the torn couch and faded chairs in the living room, she stated, “Please, have a seat.”

The three of us moved to the living area, passing walls comprised of gnarled wood that appeared like thick roots. Leaves and twigs poked out between them, making the home feel as if it was just an extension of the forest.

She poured me a cup of tea then carefully walked past the chipped table in the center of the seating area and handed Redmond a cup. Their eyes locked onto each other, and she sucked in a breath before smiling at him excitedly. Redmond’s lip quirked up, and he pushed his spectacles along the bridge of his nose, fidgeting in his seat. His hands flailed about for a moment, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them, and then he settled on folding them in his lap. Redmond had always been awkward, but never this much of a fumbling mess.

“Redmond, it’s so nice to see you. My name is Orella, and I have been expecting you for quite some time.”

Redmond didn’t respond; he only gaped at Orella. My brow crinkled at the two of them staring deeply into each other’s gazes, seemingly lost in another world. I cleared my throat with every intention of interrupting the precious moment unfolding before my eyes.

She jumped at the sound and retreated to the couch across from us. “I’ve been waiting for you. I saw your arrival in a vision, but I never knew when it would occur.” Her eyes lingered on Redmond before she continued. “I had a hunch it would be tonight.”

“Then you know why I’ve come.”

She tore her eyes from Redmond and popped a sugar cube into her tea, slowly stirring the liquid in silence. She took one sip, hummed, and then met my gaze. “I knew the day would come when you would demand answers. Your mother and I were the closest of friends, so naturally, you would think to come to me. You were right to do so.”

“Tell me that what I am thinking is wrong. Tell me that I am just experiencing side effects from stress and nothing else, that my parents were who they claimed to be, that their mate bond was unbreakable,” I begged.

Now more than ever, I needed to believe that mates were destined, that the bond between them was forged of something thick and indestructible. That no matter what, there were no exceptions to the rule.

I needed hope for my own sake.

“I can either tell you the truth or what you want to hear. Which do you choose?”

I leaned back against the chair, the frail material gasping for air beneath my weight, and sighed. “The truth.”

She placed her cup down on the table, and leaned in to speak, her head tilted as if she were examining my features. “You have her eyes,” she said wistfully, then leaned back with a chuckle. “Your mother was a rare one, from the moment she was born. She was powerful and strong, but her powers were unlike any other fae. You’ve been told she was half seelie, half unseelie, but what you’ve been told wasn’t necessarily true. She was half unseelie and half otherworldly—something bright and strange. Just like your mate,” she said with a smile. “Your mother had some of the elemental powers that you possess, but on top of that, she also possessed another skill—something unheard of. The ability to create portals.”

“Excuse me?”

She held up a hand and shushed me like a child, and Redmond’s eyes gleamed. “Your mother met the male you called father when she was young. It was love at first sight,lustat first sight. They immediately knew it was meant to be one another for eternity.”

“The male I called father?”

“You know where this is going. Now listen and don’t interrupt any further. My time is limited,” she replied. “Your mother often opened portals, taking your father to explore strange and different lands. All was well and good, until they went somewhere they should have never gone. It was a cruel, capricious world, dark and strange. The two of them fled shortly after arriving and closed the portal, praying it would never be opened again. After that, your mother vowed to never open another portal or enter a new world. She lived up to the vow and maintained it, and the two were mated and married. Shortly after, they had your brother.”

She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Your brother was born sickly and weak. Years passed while the two of them searched for a cure, but there was none to be found for a blight that hadn’t otherwise existed. So, your mother panicked and started to explore other worlds once again, searching for anyone who displayed the same sickness. She searched day and night for this cure, all while remaining cautious to never open that door to the dark world. By the time Caspian reached a mere five years of age, he was already knocking on death’s door. Filled with hopelessness, your mother decided to do something she’d vowed never to do: she opened the portal to the Otherworld, only the slightest bit, just enough to squeeze through, and immediately closed it behind her. She ventured to the abyss for that cure and disappeared for well over a year.”

Her eyes locked on me, filled with sympathy and sorrow. “When she returned, it wasn’t alone. There was a babe in her arms. You.”

My gut twisted. What she claimed couldn’t be true. I shook my head as disgust filled my throat with bile. No, I was fae, one hundred percent fae. I was not what she hinted at.

My fists clenched, and I abruptly rose from my seat, nearly knocking over the worn armchair. “My mother would never betray my father.”

“Sit down, boy. I’m not done with the story.”

I growled—a story was all it was—but I returned to the chair nonetheless, silently seething as I directed a wrathful glare her way.

“Your mother didn’t betray your father. She would never. She attempted to bargain with the shade gods for a cure, but what they wanted in return was deemed abominable in her mind. She tried to leave, to find a way of escape, but the shade gods were never ones for choice or consent when it came to breeding. Her choices were taken from her, as well as her will to live. She had you whilst trapped beneath a mountain, plotting her escape. When the day came for that escape, she took you with her, only to find that your brother had recovered while she’d been away. The irony,” she sighed.

My head spun, and I swallowed down the vomit that crawled its way into my mouth. “My mother loved me. My father, too. If this were true…they would have despised me.”

Her eyes softened, and her feet padded around the table. She sunk in front of me, grabbing my hand in hers and brushing a silver lock of hair from my eyes. Her mouth ghosted into a soft smile. “They both loved you. They never hated you. They never could, even if they wanted to. Your father didn’t blame your mother one bit, and he chose to claim you as his own, promising to never speak a word of what occurred. Your mother told me and only me. In order to prevent the truth from coming to light, the two of us cast a spell of protection around you, so no one would ever discover the brutality in which you were conceived.”

A spell of protection. I wondered if it was why the seer Matilda had never seen image of me in her visions.

Before I could voice the thought, the oracle spoke. “Yes, my godson. Yes.”

Godson?

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