Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Thalia

Something strong and peppery hits my nasal passages, and I come out of my faint quickly, growling as I bat away whoever’s hand is in my face.

Bastien looms before me, Heph hovering over his shoulder. I turn my head and see I’m on the bed. My fingers against my temple, I try to massage away the headache I’ve awoken with.

Handing something to Heph—presumably whatever he just had me sniff to wake up—Bastien bends closer to peer at me with worry. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got sucker punched,” I mutter. Straight to the heart. “And embarrassed I fainted.”

My gaze slides to Heph as I struggle to sit up. Bastien’s hand goes behind my back, and he helps me transition to an upright position on the edge of the mattress. “My father isn’t my father?” I ask, not able to help the slightly begging tone in my question. Perhaps I heard him wrong.

“Jaron was, of course, your father in all ways that mattered,” Heph says. “But biologically, he wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand.” I rub my hands over my face before looking back to him. “How did that even happen? Was my mother… was she…”

“Not forced,” Heph rushes to assure me, and I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.

“Did she cheat on my father?” I exclaim, my question woven with a note of hysteria.

“It’s not that simple,” Heph hedges.

“It is that simple,” I snarl, coming off the bed in one fell swoop and brushing past Bastien. There’s not a lick of dizziness within me. Pure fury drives my body. “Explain how she got pregnant with another man while married to my father.”

“She did it for your father.” Heph stares at me, and I can see he believes that.

“She slept with another man for my father?” I ask suspiciously.

“Not a man… a Dark Fae.”

I shudder, knowing there’s something inside me that could potentially be insidious. It makes me sick to my stomach again.

Bastien reaches out and links his fingers with mine. It immediately calms and tempers my frustration. “Tell me the story.”

“Your mother and father tried for years to have a baby, and it left both of them so very sad, particularly your father. He desperately wanted children, while your mom would have been at peace either way. Concerned there was something wrong with her, she hoped to find a magical way to fix it. So she came to me for help.”

“To use blood magic?” I ask, aghast she’d do such a thing.

“She was desperate to make your father happy. She loved him beyond all measure, and if there was a way to do it, she was willing to break the very laws he would be forced to uphold if she were caught.”

“What exactly did you two do?” I whisper, and Bastien squeezes my fingers.

“A spell,” Heph replies uneasily. “A simple one using only a drop of her blood and a scrying pond. She was asking for a way to have a baby. She only wanted information.”

“And she got a Dark Fae instead?” Bastien guesses.

Heph’s nods sadly. “Amell. He runs the Underworld for Queen Kymaris.”

“Kymaris is dead,” Bastien advises him.

“Oh,” he mumbles, taking a few steps backward and shoving his hands in his pockets. His head bows as he considers this. “And Amell… what is he now?”

“I have no clue,” Bastien replies. “Never heard of him before.”

“Can we get back to what happened with my mom and Amell?” I snap irritably.

“I wasn’t there for the conversation. He appeared, said he was responding to her summoning. He told me to leave them alone.”

“And you did?” I snarl, advancing on my uncle. “You left her alone with a Dark Fae from the Underworld?”

“Not at first,” Heph says with his chin lifted. “I refused, even though he could’ve killed me with a snap of his fingers. But then he told your mom that he had the answers to her problems, but he wanted privacy with her. Your mom insisted I leave.”

“You shouldn’t have,” I accuse, but I also know it might be unfair to say that. If Heph didn’t leave, my mom could’ve easily bent distance with Amell for privacy somewhere else if she was intent on hearing what he had to say.

“So you don’t know what happened?” Bastien presses.

“I do, because Selena told me later. Amell said that Jaron was physically unable to have children but that he could help get her pregnant. He promised her the child would look like Selena so Jaron would never know.”

“And she took his word for it?” My voice is shrill, unrecognizable. “She trusted an evil creature from Hell?”

“Whatever her frame of mind was at that time, she did.”

“And exactly how did he help her get pregnant?” Acidic fury burns in my chest, and it threatens to choke me.

“Your mom didn’t tell me the details, only that Amell wanted something from her. She never told me exactly what happened, but—”

“He forced her—”

“No,” Heph cuts in over me. “She assured me she wasn’t forced to do anything she wasn’t willing to do, and she actually seemed grateful for it. She was at peace after her meeting with him, but if you’re asking whether you were conceived the old-fashioned way, then the answer is yes. Your mother had sex with Amell, and she conceived that very night.”

It takes all my will to choke my next words. “Did my father know?”

Heph smiles at me sadly. “I don’t know. Selena and I never talked about it again.”

“What was in it for Amell?” Bastien asks. “I can’t imagine he did it out of the goodness of his heart. He’s a Dark Fae.”

“I never knew,” Heph replies. “But I know there was some favor owed. I know Selena felt that the gift of conception was worth the infidelity against Jaron.”

That word.

Infidelity.

I can’t wrap my head around my mother doing such a thing. The love she shared with my father was so pure and infinite. She’d never betray him in such a way, and part of me hates Heph for destroying my image of her.

“I need some air,” I reply, tugging my hand from Bastien’s and walking out of the cottage.

Bastien won’t follow because he knows me well. He knows there are times when my upset requires solitude, just as he knows there are times when I need something simple… like the touch of his hand on mine just moments ago.

How could this be? How could I never have had even a hint that Jaron wasn’t my father?

My biological father, I mean. He was truly my father, and it doesn’t matter if he didn’t have a hand in creating my physical form. He had a direct hand in creating everything else about me, and there is so much of him in me, I can look in the mirror every day and see him smiling back.

I walk to the pond and sit on a bench under a paper birch tree that filters the light into pink dapples on the ground at my feet.

Shadow magic.

Heph says I have shadow magic inside of me but how does he know for sure? Is it a guess, or did I show abilities at some point? Did Amell tell my mother I would have that part of him?

A horrific thought strikes deep, and I almost can’t breathe. What if Amell wanted a child to help him rule the Underworld? What if he gave me shadow magic so that he could one day drag me under to live with him?

I jump off the bench, looking around wildly. My chest heaves as fear threatens to suffocate me. I’m consumed by an overwhelming urge to run as far away as possible. Back to the First Dimension… or another dimension. Anywhere he can’t find me. I’ll live the rest of my days alone and I’ll give up everything, but I’m not about to become—

“Easy, now.” Bastien’s voice surrounds me, as do his arms. I hadn’t realized he’d come out of the cottage. “I got you. Deep breaths.”

I turn and burrow in tight and let him hold me. I don’t need long, because he’s reminded me that I’m not alone.

“What’s the play?” I finally ask as I tip my head back.

He loosens his hold so he can look at me. “We need to know about the shadow magic. Heph says that Amell told your mother you would be part fae and have abilities. He called it shadow magic because it would be inside you, hiding in the corners, ready for you to use when you needed.”

I frown. “That sounds prophetic.”

“Agreed,” he replies with a grimace. “But Heph said he was an original fallen angel, so whatever you have inside you is powerful.”

Pulling away from Bastien, I turn to look out over the pond. The water is clear with rose colored sparkles on the surface. I focus inward to evaluate the pleasant buzz of magic that pumps in my veins. I look for any shred of darkness that could be lurking, but I don’t feel anything strange at all. “How do I use it?”

“Heph says we can attempt to summon Amell and ask.”

I whirl around to Bastien, and I can tell by the look on his face he hates the idea. But I can also tell he’s not going to argue with me if I agree.

“Let’s do it,” I say without hesitation. I came here prepared to learn blood magic. To do whatever it takes to defeat Ferelith.

This is no different.

“I thought you’d say that, so I’ve got Heph gathering what he needs. He’ll be out here in a moment.”

I nod and nibble on my fingernail, a horrible habit I succumb to when I have way too much spinning in my brain. I think this is the right thing to do. Bastien would prohibit it if it wasn’t. I truly don’t see any other way, and I need to make things right.

“Your mother did the best she could,” Bastien says as he pulls my hand away from my mouth, and my eyes fly to his. “Don’t spend any energy holding this against her.”

I take stock of my feelings. “I can’t afford to think about it now, but I might need you to remind me of that later.”

“I will always remind you of what a great woman your mother was, how much she loved your father, and that she only ever wanted what was best for you and him. I also know she’s dead, and you’ll never understand her reasoning, so all I can ask is that you give her the benefit of the doubt because she has never once given you reason not to.”

I frown at him. “When did you get so wise?”

“When I was forced to make the hardest decision in the world where you’re concerned,” he says, and the reminder is like a slap to the face. The source of the demise of our happiness.

I’m prevented from responding when the door to the little house opens and Heph comes out carrying a bowl, a corked brown pottery jug, and a wickedly sharp-looking knife.

I watch silently as Heph sets the bowl and knife on the ground and then uncorks the jug. From it he pours black salt—an ingredient often used in protection spells, potions, and amulets—in a large circle around the bowl.

When he corks the jug and sets it aside, I ask, “Now what do you do?”

“Not what I do,” Heph says, nodding at the bowl and knife. “It’s your blood that needs to be spilled to call Amell because it’s his blood you’ll be spilling too. You need to get in that circle, pick up the knife, and call your father to you.”