19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Magic can be tricked for a short time, but its vengeance will be threefold." – Lord Quincy, Seventh Lord of Sídhetír.

I t felt like the earth dropped from beneath me. I didn't know which way was up. The voices surrounding me became nothing but blurs of noise with no meaning. Lord Byrne was lying. I was not his. How could I be his? It wasn't possible.

My mother would've told me. Wouldn't she? She wouldn't have kept such a thing from me. I swallowed. Vis Ryan had been against lying, but she hadn't told me who my father was. All she'd said was he was as good as dead to me.

She was correct. Lord Byrne could never have been my father. He might as well be dead.

Hands fisted, I tried to slow my breathing, but I couldn't. The bells ringing in my head grew louder and louder like I was in the belltower of the church.

Cethin , I thought. God, I wanted him to take me away from this. To hold me. To banish all thoughts.

"How old are you?" Blodwen snarled, shaking me. Her face had stretched, taking on a sharper, more feral appearance. Small conical horns protruded from her forehead.

I had no idea if she'd asked me this multiple times or if this was the first time. Oren was yelling, but Lord Abnus held him back. Lord Byrne and the rest of the Byrne brothers—my brothers—were shouting. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I could have had a family. When my mother died, I could've been a part of this family, but Lord Byrne hadn't acknowledged my existence as more than a pitiful ward he'd taken in.

"Why?" I asked him, but if he heard me over the chaos, he didn't react.

Blodwen shook me again. "Are you older than Oren?"

Acid burned my throat. Lord Byrne had hidden his bastard, half-fae child because of when I was born. I was Oren's elder brother. I was the seventh son of Lord Byrne. The ground rumbled as the first tears slid down my cheeks. Oren was freed from his shackles, and I was chained by ones that had always been there.

She shook me again, her fingers digging into my wrists.

"You will let go of him, Blodwen, if you wish to retain your hands."

Cethin's voice washed over me, and some of the all-consuming panic dimmed.

Blodwen hissed, releasing me like I'd burned her.

I turned toward Cethin. His white hair was pulled into a high tail, leaving his long ears exposed. More tears slipped from my eyes, and faster than I could track, Cethin stood before me. He wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"What's wrong, my Aidan?"

I didn't answer, for the words wouldn't come. How could I iterate the fear, the anger, and the betrayal coursing through me? My language didn't have the words, and if it did, I didn't know them.

"Prince Cethin," Blodwen said, voice low and dark.

My eyes widened. Prince? He was a prince. Cethin's eyes didn't leave mine and his thumb continued to move in a smooth arc.

"I was going to tell you. Tonight."

No emotions bled through the wall of shock. His revelation was not even close to the most shocking of the afternoon. The snow continued to float down at increasingly fast intervals, and the wind had turned dangerous.

"Breathe, Aidan," Cethin whispered against my ear, so he could be heard over the gale. "You must calm yourself."

"You are the one who placed the mark on him?" Blodwen asked, but it sounded more like an accusation. "Do you deny it?"

"Why would I deny the obvious, Blodwen? Aidan is my mate," Cethin answered, his hands sliding down my back and hauling me against him.

She snarled, teeth sharp and pointed. "You are not allowed to become involved with the heir. It was an agreement between the two courts after the signing of the contract."

"It wasn't a formal promise, and I didn't know he was the heir until after the mark was struck. There is no unraveling the magic."

"It's an unfair advantage," she yelled.

Abnus said, "It hardly matters, Blodwen. Aidan is only half human. Can the contract even continue?"

"True," she said, facing Lord Byrne, who kept trying to catch my eye, but I couldn't look at him or any of the other Byrnes. My family . They were my family. "You attempted to trick us," she continued. "To bind your eighth son to us while holding back your true seventh son."

"Oren is my legitimate seventh son. I was never married to Aidan's mother," Lord Byrne said.

I scoffed. I was his bastard, half-fae son. How nice of him to proclaim it and the fact he didn't consider me his.

"You think magic cares about human nonsense?" she spat. "Aidan is the one to inherit Sídhetír. Even now, the land responds to his call."

"Oren is my seventh son," Lord Byrne repeated like he wanted to believe the words himself.

This time Lord Abnus chuckled without a trace of humor. "Repeating what you wish to be true does not make it so, your lordship."

Lord Byrne looked away, and Lady Hester took his hand. That action hurt my heart for some reason. They both had known who and what I was, and yet they had concealed it from me. They knew of Oren's desire to be free, and yet they'd forced him onto a path he didn't need to follow.

How could they?

The ground quaked, and the manor groaned, windows shattering under the strain.

How could they?

The wind danced across the garden as the snow fell so quickly the world turned white. It was quickly becoming a snowstorm, far too early in the autumn.

How could they?

"Aidan," Cethin said, holding me closer. "Breathe."

I couldn't do as he asked. My lungs refused to inflate, and black spots bounced in my vision.

Blodwen pointed at me. "You would deny who he is, Lord Byrne, when the very forces of nature are responding to him? Aidan is the heir, and you attempted to deceive us. That is an act of war."

"That seems a tad premature," Lord Abnus said.

She waved a hand at him. "I speak for my queen."

Abnus glanced at me and Cethin, not talking, but his look was enough. He couldn't speak for the Night Court when its prince was here. Cethin didn't bother to respond to Blodwen's declaration of war as he rocked me back and forth, making shushing noises.

Once again, Oren tried to move to my side, and once again, Abnus stopped him. I was grateful for his protection of Oren because I felt as if I was unraveling like frayed cloth. I didn't think I would harm Oren, but if something happened, I would never forgive myself.

Blodwen snarled and her glamour completely dropped, allowing me to see the true breadth of her shoulders, the strength of her muscles, and the green wings like a dragonfly's on her back.

"War will sweep you away," Blodwen said. "You hid your blood."

"This is unnecessary," Lord Byrne said. "A new contract can be struck."

Blodwen laughed. "Do you even remember the cost of the contract? Are you willing to bleed your sons dry, except for Aidan and possibly Oren?"

My head shot up, and I was not alone. All of the Byrne brothers turned to their—our father. There was one volume of the Sídhetír Memoirs that we weren't allowed to read, the one detailing the contract. The cost and how it was struck was carefully hidden to all, except for the Lord of Sídhetír himself.

"No," Lord Byrne said. "I am not Rhett. I will not give up my children to save others, but a war is unnecessary. Aidan can sign the contract."

"Can he?" she asked. "Are you positive? And why should we light fae accept it when he will be biased against us because of his bond with Prince Cethin?"

I buried my face against Cethin's neck. I didn't want to hear this. I wanted to vanish, but the land wouldn't absorb me, and I feared that even if it did, Cethin would not react well.

Lord Byrne and Blodwen kept arguing. None of my brothers joined the verbal battle. Around and around, Blodwen and Lord Byrne went, trading verbal blows. Lord Abnus jumped in every once in a while, demanding people calm down—no one heeded him.

"I don't want to be here," I whimpered.

Cethin's hands stalled on my back before returning to their previous motions. "I can take you away. Away from everything."

I didn't care where we went or about the consequences of fleeing. I merely wanted to disappear, to vanish from this fight. I needed to think without the clanging in my ears and the rumble of the ground, which I now recognized as Sídhetír.

"Place your arms about my shoulders and hold on tight," he ordered. I followed his directions, and Cethin's arms slid around my waist, securing me against him. Leathery wings spread out behind him, catching the wind and dragging us back without any effort.

"What are you doing?" Blodwen screeched.

"Cethin," Lord Abnus called.

Cethin's wings flapped, lifting us from the ground. "Taking my Aidan far away."

I felt a flash, as if the earth was warning me, and tree limbs moved in my direction, forming a wall that exploded moments later. Blodwen growled, hands dropping.

"Sídhetír belongs to my mate, Blodwen. No magic you use will touch us. If I die, so does he. It will never allow you to harm me." Cethin rose higher, and the temperature dropped even further, making me shiver.

The world whirled around me. All I could think about was Lord Byrne telling me I was his son. I was his son, and yet, he'd left me alone and Oren to suffer for a fate he didn't want. I was his. I was Sídhetír's. For so long, I'd been left to believe I belonged to no one and didn't have a place in this world. But I did. I had a family—one I already cared about.

I finally glanced around. We weren't close to Cethin's cottage, which I'd assumed was our destination. Instead, he was flying directly north.

"Where are we going?" I asked above the wind, but he didn't respond. I had no idea if Cethin's lack of response was due to him not hearing me or him not wishing to answer.

After several minutes, Cethin dove, and my stomach lodged in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding him as tight as possible. He landed on the ground, right outside of the treeline, with nary a bump. Cethin snagged my hand, stepping under the boughs without hesitation.

He led me through the trees as if he knew where he was going. I followed without a word, exhaustion dragging down my limbs and making my eyelids heavy. I wanted to lie down and sleep. Cethin walked on and on, steering me around fallen logs, underbrush, and holes with no trouble.

When he finally stopped, my breath was harsh and my bruised ribs ached. Hugging my waist with my free arm, I looked around and froze. My mouth turned bone dry as my heart thundered in my ears.

"Is that what I think it is?" I asked, my voice strained.

"Yes."

The gate to the realms stood before me.

Swirling strands of silver forged the gate, appearing like vines. In the center of the arch was a red seven-pointed star with a full moon on one side, and on the other, a glowing sun. Darkness gathered in the center with pinpricks of light. The hair on my arms raised as magic drifted from the gate in waves. Whispers came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The voices begged me to walk through, to cross the barrier into the fae realm.

I balked, shaking my head. I couldn't go in there. I couldn't leave Sídhetír. I didn't want to leave Sídhetír. Roots curled around my feet, securing me to the land. No matter what was happening with the Byrnes, Sídhetír was my home.

Cethin tightened his hold on my fingers. "You can enter the gate."

I swallowed. He was right. I could safely step through the gate, but did I want to?

"Trust me."

I did, without question. I nodded, and Cethin stepped forward, leading me into the darkness.