4. LONNIE

4

LONNIE

THE DUNGEONS, OBSIDIAN PALACE, EVERLAST CITY

" A ll these years later, I still remember flashes of my old life," Mother said. "I was often lonely, but well cared for. My family was wealthy, and I didn't see my parents often. I was raised by our housekeeper. She was called Orla, and she was from Ireland?—"

"She was from where?" I interrupted.

"A nearby country," she said dismissively "Orla believed in fairies, and she told me stories about them. She warned me not to venture too far into the woods, because the fairies stole pretty children."

I swallowed thickly. I could see where this was going.

I'd known from an early age that my mother was a changeling—a human child stolen from another realm to serve the fae. She'd spoken about it when telling Rosey and I why we should never trust fairies, however she'd never gone into so much detail.

"One day I was playing in the woods behind my house and I saw them," Mother continued.

"The fae?" I asked.

She shook her head. "A group of Underfae, though I didn't know then what they were. They were barely larger than my doll, and dancing in a ring of toadstools. Being only a child, I played with them. Then, only a few days later, I was taken from my bed just as Orla promised."

"How?" I asked, leaning forward with interest. "Why?"

Mother shook her head, as if she wished to shake the memories from her mind. "Not all humans born outside of Elsewhere can see the fae. I was told later that all changelings were taken because they had the sight."

Even here in Elsewhere, not all humans were able to see the tiny creatures that guarded plants and rivers. I'd always been able to see them, but never once had my mother indicated that she could as well.

"I didn't know you could see the Underfae." I was unable to keep a slight hint of accusation out of my voice.

"I wish more than anything that I could not," she spat. "Filthy, evil creatures."

I ran a weary hand through my hair. If I let her linger too long on this topic, she'd devolve into a bitter rant about the evils of all magic. For a moment, she'd seemed willing to share more than I'd ever learned before. I had to get her back on topic.

"So you were taken from the human realm and brought to Nightshade?" I prompted.

My mother blinked at me, as if she'd forgotten her train of thought. "Yes. I spent ten years in Nightshade serving the court and learning to worship the Source. The court of Nightshade was just as evil and depraved as the capital. Every inch of the city was filled with zealous priests and fanatics, all united in worship of the Source.

"Living there was an absolute nightmare and I swore that one day I would find a way back to my family."

A sick feeling churned in my stomach. "What happened?"

"When I turned 16 I was assigned to be the wife of one of the priests who served at the Source. There was no point in trying to escape after that."

I gazed at her, eyes wide with shock. This was the first time she had ever brought up this topic in our entire relationship. To my knowledge, my mother had never been married; in fact, she always avoided any questions about who my father could be. My mind raced with anticipation, a sudden realization dawning on me.

"How long were you married?" I asked, forcing my tone to remain even.

"Six months," she spat bitterly, her face twisting with the ghost of old pain. "For those six months I was no longer required to work in the kitchens or clean the temples, but I also wasn't allowed outside. Each day I felt more and more like a prisoner, and every evening I dreaded the moment when my husband would return home. If I tried to leave he would have killed me, and often I thought I might simply let him."

I glanced at the floor, simultaneously horrified and morbidly curious. "Why did it only last six months?"

"Because one day I decided I couldn't stand it any longer," she replied bitterly. "I knew one of us had to die, and I didn't much care if it was me or the monster who called himself my husband. So, one night, I waited for him to go to sleep, and stabbed him through the eye with my hairpin."

"And that worked?" I blurted out incredulously.

Mother nodded. "In Nightshade, many things were made from source-forged steel. My only regret is that he was killed instantly, and never even knew what had happened."

I gaped at her, a whirl of tangled thoughts coursing through my mind. It was little wonder why Mother hated the fae, when she'd known nothing but cruelty from them.

I couldn't help but notice the similarity between her story, and how I'd first killed one of the fae, and with that thought, the nervous anticipation that had been building in my stomach collapsed. If she'd killed this nameless Fae priest, he wasn't my father. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

A part of me was angry that I'd never known any of this before…but then, I supposed it made sense. Even if Mother had wanted to talk about her past–and she clearly didn't–I'd been barely more than a child when she was taken away. Hardly old enough to know the truth of what had happened to her.

"So you escaped?" I pushed, wishing to keep her talking. I needed to hear all there was to know, or I might never have the opportunity again–no matter how uncomfortable these stories made me.

"Yes," Mother said. "I ran and made it as far as the Waywoods. I intended to reach the eastern shore and try to find someone who knew how to return to my homeland, but it was barely two weeks before I learned that I hadn't fully escaped my husband after all."

"What do you mean?"

She gave me a pointed look. "I was pregnant."

The anxious bubble in my stomach reinflated.

My heart pounded quicker and I wrung my hands in my skirt, the full realization of what she was saying washing over me. "So that would mean that Rosey and I are?—"

"Half fae," she finished for me bitterly. "It's the curse I've borne for twenty-two years. My daughters are monsters."

I stared at her in shocked silence, my heart pounding too loudly in my ears. "Why did you never tell me?"

My mother readjusted her position, pushing her back flatter against the bars of her cage. She assessed me with cold eyes. "If I had, would it have changed anything?"

"Maybe," I snapped. "It might have changed how I felt."

"No," she replied. "If anything, it would have given you a reason to indulge in your unnaturalness. I wanted to raise you both to be human, not let you turn into one of them ."

A prickle of heat traveled up my spine like angry flames licking at my skin. I sucked in a startled breath.

I straightened, sucking in a deep breath and pushing every shred of feeling to the furthest corners of my mind. Only a few more questions, I told myself grimly. I just need to know the truth once and for all.

"If you always hated us, why did you raise us?" I asked, my voice an eerie calm resonance. "Why not kill us at birth?"

My mother jerked. "I didn't always hate you. I tried to help you not become evil, despite who your father was. I thought I could teach you to suppress your evil side. I could never have killed my own babies, in fact, I destroyed my own life to save you."

"What do you mean?"

"You were born sickly and dying," she replied, her tone flat as if she'd resigned herself to finishing this story no matter what. "You sister was born healthy, but I knew the moment I saw you that you wouldn't survive."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "But you were wrong."

She shook her head. "No. I wasn't wrong. You were dying, and there wasn't anything I could do to save you. It would have taken magic."

"But—wait."

My mother wasn't even looking at me now. She spoke into the cell, as if she was divesting herself of years of secrets, unloading them like a weight hanging over her. Her confession was no longer about me, but about her own need for closure.

"As much as I hated it, I'd spent ten years in Nightshade," she continued. "I'd been taught to worship the Source, and I knew the stories of its power. I knew where to take you, so I climbed the mountain, still bleeding, with two infants in my arms. I begged queen Aisling to save my child, and she answered. She offered me a bargain."

"You bargained with gods?"

She nodded. "Aisling agreed to save you, and in exchange I would have to find and save her child. I had no idea who her child was, or how to find them, but I agreed."

"Why?" I spluttered, my mind reeling.

She looked at me blankly. "At the time, it seemed like the obvious choice. My baby was dying, I would have agreed to anything."

I swallowed, willing the lump rising in my throat to disappear. I couldn't cry. I couldn't give in to any anger or sorrow. Not yet. "So obviously, Aisling helped?" I asked, struggling harder than ever to keep my tone even.

"The queen poured her power into you, and the force of it caused the source to erupt. I watched from the top of the mountain as the city of Nightshade was consumed in fire and molten stone."

"So you're saying it's because of me that the entire city was destroyed."

She shrugged. "I suppose so."

"You don't seem bothered by it. You destroyed an entire city."

"An evil city," she insisted. "At that moment I didn't care, but soon I realized I'd made a mistake."

I almost sagged in relief. She might have done something terrible, but at least she felt some remorse for it— "You couldn't have known, I?—"

"As a child you immediately showed signs of magic," she continued, talking over me. "I know I'd made a mistake in saving your life."

A stone dropped into my stomach. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Another spark of heat crawled over my skin, this time traveling down my arms and lingering in the tips of my fingers.

"I'd been weak," Mother said. "and it cursed you with that foul magic even more than you already were. I tried to teach you to suppress it."

My mind felt numb with shock. I could barely even process what she was saying, much less the hatred in her gaze. "What about the promise you made to Aisling?" I asked, dazedly.

She made an angry noise in the back of her throat. "I had no idea where to look."

"So you joined the rebellion," I finished for her, understanding dawning.

Ambrose had told me how he met my mother during the rebellion. They were comrades, and even after Ambrose became the leader of the rebels, my mother remained under his command.

It was unbelievable to me that Mother would ever work with Fae, but now it made sense. If she was forced to seek them out for information on Aisling's child, she would certainly prefer to associate with those who sought to tear down the fae monarchy rather than supporting it.

"That's right," Mother confirmed. "King Gancanagh was in the North at that time."

"Trying to take over the rebellion?" I asked, remembering the rest of what Ambrose had explained to me. "Gancanagh first tried to take over the kingdom of Elsewhere, and when he was unsuccessful he returned to Underneath and challenged the former king for that throne."

"Correct," Mother sneered. "I suppose your princes told you that?"

I flattened my lips. They were kings now, not princes, but it didn't seem worth correcting her. "Yes. Did you know that Gancanagh is Bael's father?"

She scowled. "I hardly cared to learn more than passing gossip about the royal family. The Everlasts do not matter to me, nor do they have anything to do with this story."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking the retort I longed to throw at her. The Everlasts had everything to do with this story. Their family history was as twisted up in this as mine was.

"Gancanagh told me that he knew where the heir was."

"The heir?" I asked, confused.

Mother narrowed her eyes, seeming annoyed that I didn't understand. "Aislings child. Her heir."

It was my turn to be annoyed. For someone so filled with hate, my mother certainly knew a lot about Fae history and religion. She spoke of Aisling with no awe or confusion about who she was. I supposed she had learned of the ancient queen while living in the theocratic territory of Nightshade.

"Well, where was the heir?" I asked.

My mother smiled bitterly. "For many years he refused to tell me, holding the information over my head as long as I was willing to work with the rebellion. I assumed he was somewhere in the North, as Gancanagh was equally interested in stamping out the last person who could challenge rule over Elsewhere as I was in finding and freeing him. I kept in contact with him while we lived in the valley near the source, and all the while tried to keep your magic hidden. Unfortunately, that became impossible."

"What do you mean?"

She looked at me with something akin to disgust. "No matter what I did, that horrible power would leak out. Everywhere you went, you would summon Wilde creatures to you. At first, it was just the Underfae, but then it became worse. As you grew older, any creature with magic would become fixated on you and follow you around like a moth to a flame. You would play in the forest, and come home riding some monster claiming it was tame."

"I don't remember that," I interrupted.

"You were very small. No more than five, and already your power was more than I could handle. I knew by the time you reached adulthood, there would be no chance of hiding it unless I forced you to stop. I invented rules to prevent you from encountering magic, but you broke them. I tried beating you for it, rewarding you when you surpassed it, but nothing worked. You weren't afraid of me."

"So you taught me to fear the fae instead."

She nodded. "It wasn't difficult. I paid some members of the rebellion to attack you, so you'd fear both them and the forest."

Unconsciously, my hand flew to my ear. I remembered the attack she spoke of, and she was right—after that, I'd known that the fae were evil. They were dangerous, and I could never disobey my mother's rules again.

"Why would you bring us to the capital? If you were so worried I'd use magic, why take me to a court full of it?"

She grimaced. "You'd stopped using your powers intentionally, but there were still the occasional incidents. You'd have an argument with your sister, and the afflicted would swarm our home. I knew it was only a matter of time until you realized you had caused the attacks, and it was no random coincidence. Ganacangh visited me once again, and offered to take you from me."

I gasped. "Why?"

She grimaced. "I assume to bring you to Underneath where your powers might help him in his quest to hold on to his throne."

"Why not let him?" I asked bitterly. "If you hated me so much."

"I didn't hate you," she said verdantly. "I hated the magic, but I still foolishly believed I could stamp it out of you with time. At least I might be able to lessen it, after all, your sister was half fae as well and never showed a shred of that horrible power."

"Yes, she did."

A dark sense of contentment washed over me. I longed to confront my mother with this information, knowing it would undoubtedly infuriate her. It was a small way to get back at her for the pain she had caused me. "Rosey was a seer, she dreamed of the future almost every night."

My mother stopped, her words cut off by her surprise. After a moment, she swallowed, and fixed me with a contemptuously glare. "Liar."

I laughed. "I wish I was lying. You certainly taught me how to do it well. Was that really for protection, or were you just assuring yourself that as long as I could lie I was still mostly human?"

She flinched, and didn't have to answer. I knew I'd hit the nail on the head. How would she react if she knew I struggled with untruths more with every passing day?

"Let me guess," I said wearily. "You were called on by the rebellion seven years ago?"

She nodded. "I was still bound to seek out the heir, and the longer I spent in the capital avoiding my purpose the more restless I felt. I jumped at the opportunity to return to Aftermath to seek him out, with or without Gancanagh's help. I spent years there, searching, and finally realized there was no heir to be found. I contacted the rebellion again, and got myself sent to Underneath to confront Gancanagh after all these years. He owed me the information."

I couldn't help but marvel at how many bargains my mother had managed to strike with fae royals of all sorts. Was it from experience then, that she'd always forbid me from bargains?

"And did Gancanagh help you find the heir?" I asked, dully. I barely cared about the answer anymore, my mind was too tired, spinning with all the new information.

"He did, in a manner of speaking," she said bitterly. "I couldn't simply ask him. Gancanagh is—was—the worst of his kind. He would never answer a straight question, and would do everything in his power to keep me indebted to him. Unfortunately for him, he laid his own trap quite nicely. His queens were never allowed to be seen or heard, making it all too easy to move in and out of the court as long as I was veiled."

I wondered fleetingly what had happened to the original queen, then decided I didn't want to know. Whether my mother had killed her, or they'd colluded together, I didn't desire to know anything more about Mother's double-life.

"Did you know I'd be at court?" I asked.

"No." Her tone had taken on a hint of discomfort. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you there at dinner. I'd disguised myself as the queen that night, only so I could find a moment to speak with the Dullahan. I had no idea I'd find my own daughter whoring herself out to Fae nobles."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I didn't even care about the putrid smell of the dungeon anymore. It hardly affected me as I sucked in deep breaths, forcing myself to remain calm and detached. No matter what she said about me it didn't matter. The truth was the most–the only–important thing.

"And did you find him?" I asked, dully. "The heir, I mean. Did Gancanagh help you?"

"I did," she said grimly. "In a manner of speaking. But that hardly matters to me anymore."

"Why is that?" I asked, feeling detached. Like one part of me was asking questions, while the rest was floating outside my body watching the whole thing.

"Because it wasn't worth it," she hissed. "Didn't I always tell you not to bargain with fairies? There is no winning. I made that deal to save your mortal life, but once I'd agreed that was lost anyway. I should have known there was no hope for your humanity," Mother sneered. "Your sister always did a better job of behaving normally than you did. Where is she, anyway? Is she with you, or did she escape this unnatural hell?"

I jerked, her question dragging me back from the edge of madness. I blinked at my mother, a sickly feeling climbing up my throat. "Do you not know?"

"Know what?" she demanded.

I closed my eyes, and swallowed the thick lump in my throat. "Rosey is dead. She died over a year ago."

For a moment my mother stared at me, and I saw the raw, unendurable pain in her eyes. In a way, I was glad of it. Somewhere deep down, my mother cared. Part of her was still the person I remembered, even if she was almost unrecognizable to me right now. But then she blinked, and her eyes went flat and angry once more. "Good," she snapped. "At least she never had to see what you've become."

My mother's words hung in the air, and my mind struggled to comprehend their meaning. My ears were buzzing with a high-pitched sound, and my heart raced so loudly I could feel it pulsing in my head. I gazed at my mother, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear my vision and understand what was happening.

My hands were burning.

Anger and heat coursed through my body in equal measure, the licking flames scorching me from the inside out. For a long moment, I lost track of where I was—who I was. I became nothing but flame, burning, raging, unapologetic and uncontrollable. I was born of death and flames, and maybe that was all I was ever meant for.

Distantly, I heard a scream.

I blinked and black dots filled the edges of my vision. I didn't remember getting to my feet, but I found myself standing before the cell. A haze of smoke filled the room, and struggled to focus on my mother in front of me.

She had managed to get to her feet as well, and now stood eye level with me, only the bars of her cell separating us. Her fingers clenched white around the bars, and her face was twisted with equal terror and contempt.

For the briefest moment, a stray thought flickered at the back of my mind. An evil thought.

I could leave her here.

I could burn this entire castle down, and her with it.

I was the source; the great equalizer; and like death, I would take no prisoners.