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They were a warning.

Chapter nine

Do You Get a Crown?

“You’re having dreams?”

“Had,” I corrected Wren, refusing to meet his gaze. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Aura,” my mother scolded. “Be polite to our guest.”

Snorting, I braced my elbows on the table and combed both hands through my hair. I freed a strand to curl around my finger and stared at my murky reflection in the contents of my mug. The blurry image of the girl with pink skin, red hair, and blue eyes tainted by darkness made my heart sink a little.

I was very pretty by human standards, but nothing like the High Fae, and those dark shadows around my eyes served as a cutting reminder of my own mortality. Although, a High Fae inheritance of personality traits would explain my penchant for trying to fight intoxicated men two or three times my size.

But dwelling on the confessions of my mother’s infidelity and my questionable paternity was too hard, too confronting.None of it excused the behaviour of the man who had been present on and off throughout my life. However, it did open old wounds—wounds that would flood me with guilt until I drowned or bled out.

I opted to keep my focus on the rest of it instead, though equally as damning.

“It was no accident, was it, that the caenim were following my scent?”

“No.” Wren’s tone was void of emotion. “I’ve been hunting them, and they are hunting you.”

“Were,” I amended quietly, still staring at my own reflection in the tea.

“No.Are.” Again—such short, clipped words. “There are more of them.”

Finally, I let my eyes slide up to meet his. The gold was duller beneath the kitchen light. He looked bored.

“But you closed the portal,” I reminded him, releasing the strand of hair woven through my fingers.

Wren gave me a scornful, lopsided grin. “There are other portals, bookworm.”

I squeezed my eyes shut despite the tension headache brewing behind them. “Why would more of them come here now?”

“For you.”

“Me?” My tone was flat, but my eyes opened.

“Indeed.” His gaze drifted over my hair, my face, my chest. “That dormant magic in your veins must be rather valuable.” He squinted at me. “Though I can’t see why. We thought you were human.”

“What do you mean bywe?”

Wren clicked his tongue thoughtfully, studying a crack in the ceiling as he leaned back on his hands. “The High King of Faerie was alerted to the fact that the caenim had breachedthe border in pursuit of a human.” He wagged a finger at me. “Naughty. Goes against all the fine print. Breaks a lot of rules.” He waved the same hand in the air dismissively and finished with, “He sent me to deal with them.”

I sat back in my seat, hands falling into my lap. “What, so now there’s a High King of Faerie?”

He flashed his teeth at me arrogantly. “Yes. We all got together and had a meeting and decided that theHigh KingofFaerie sounded far better than thePrime MinisterofFaerie.”

“You’re so funny,” I snapped, smiling venomously despite the hollow ache in my skull.

He bowed his head to me with irreverent modesty. “The Malum have all sorts of diabolical plans, and eradicating potential complications or threats is now at the top of their agenda. Even half-bred, ignorant ones who read a lot of books,” he added, inclining his head to me again.

I ground my teeth together at the insult, anger shooting down my arms like the scrape of a hot poker, then glanced to see if my mother was hurt by the jab. I was almost dismayed to find that she was simply watching the exchange with a faint smile on her lips. It was as if she knew the High Fae’s violence, ridicule, and cruelty well and adored them anyway.

“In the worst-case scenario,” Wren went on heedlessly, “the High Kingmightneed to summon all of faeriekind to his behest. The Malum are ugly, bitter creatures, and they all smellrevolting”—he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and making an exaggerated gagging face—“whereas the High King is the most handsome, talented, and clever person you’ve ever met. So,obviously, you’d offer your allegiance to him and fall under his protection. The Malum probably want to stop that before it has a chance to happen.”

Faerie politics made me want to throw myself into the claws of the caenim, but I kept my expression neutral as Iconsidered the information—specifically, the threat that all of it posed to my family if absolutely any of it was true.