Page 196 of A Realm of Shattered Lies

I clear my throat. “Never mind,” I say. “I’m sure it’s a boring story, anyway.”

Farin narrows his eyes in suspicion, but he creates space between us, regardless.

That’s good, because I’m not sure what I might have done had he lingered close any longer.

CHAPTER 81

NOX

I hesitate at a familiar oak door, my fist brushing against the gnarled planks as I will up the courage to knock.

A set of carvings marks the door frame. Each for marking the height of a twin.

There’s a slash above the shorter ones, where Zora got jealous that I was outgrowing her and pulled a stool out to the doorframe to carve her own slash when no one was paying attention to her.

My chest constricts when I see it, and in my mind, I hear another slash, the carving of a knife against her flesh.

My throat aches, a knot forming in it, and I don’t know if I can bear it, showing up here at my parents’ when I couldn’t save her. When I didn’t save her.

I didn’t save either of them in the end.

A shadow flickers across the fogged windows. Before I can make the decision to run, the door creaks open.

“We’re clo—Nox.”

My father’s voice trembles on my name, wiping away any question I had of whether he would recognize me. Before I can respond, he’s practically ripped the door off its hinges, wrapping his arms around me, his strong, calloused hands grasping at the nape of my neck.

“My son. Oh, my son…”

Panic stirs through me, but it’s an old reaction. Though I’m still cursed with vampirism in this body, my connection with Farin has been severed, so while the cravings for blood haven’t vanished completely, they’re considerably more manageable. Especially since I fed on the way.

Still, I try not to breathe too deeply as my father weeps on my shoulder.

It’s a more anxiety-inducing encounter than I imagined. Mostly because I keep waiting for my father to ask about Zora, but he doesn’t. I recognize soon that he’s also waiting for me to ask about my mother, and my stomach plummets.

Dead. My mother is dead. She must be.

But then my father pulls away, wiping his tears from his crystal-blue eyes, and I finally get a good look at him.

He’s fae, meaning he’s hardly aged since I last saw him, though I suppose the same can’t be said for me, since I was only a child when I was taken.

His midnight hair has grown out, and he looks less like the clean, orderly father I remember and more like a male struggling to survive alone in the wilderness.

“Your sister?” he finally asks.

I swallow, then shake my head slowly, unable to face the lingering hope in his gaze.

“Ah.” It seems that’s all he’s able to choke out for a moment as he presses his fist to his lips and squeezes his eyes shut.

It’s all my fault, I should add. I didn’t save her, I should admit, but I don’t. Can’t.

“Well, we’ll have to be gentle with how we tell your mother,” he finally says, straightening his back, though his shoulders still droop with weariness. “She’s…. Well, I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

The brief relief that swarmed my chest at the news my mother still lives is replaced by an innate dread, but I’ve no time to ask what he means as he leads me to the back room.

I try not to, but I can’t help but note the mess that’s accumulated after all these years.

My parents were always the cluttered sort, mostly because they were always trading wares with the passersby that frequented the Serpentine right off of my parents’ property.

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