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“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, love.” Ambrose furrowed his brow in concern. “Your mother is clearly harboring some resentment toward you.”

I snorted a humorless laugh. “Resentment” was an understatement.

“Having either of you there will only make things worse,” I said. “Anyway, it’s not as if she can hurt me in her present condition. I’m just going to ask her some questions.”

Neither Scion nor Ambrose looked happy, but they didn’t argue. We all knew that my mother might hate me enough to kill me, but she hated the Fae more. She’d been perfectly willing to die in Underneath rather than be stuck on a ship with dozens of Fae, and had spent the last three days starving rather than answering a few questions. Unless we wanted her to starve herself to death before providing any answers, I’d have to speak to her alone.

“Take Quill with you,” Scion said abruptly.

As if he understood his master's words, the raven jumped into the air and made a circle around our small group before coming to rest on my shoulder.

“Oooph,” I grunted, when the bird's weight landed on me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“For once, I agree,” Ambrose said begrudgingly. “You should take the bird with you.”

“Wasn’t it you who was just complaining that he’s here at all?”

Ambrose shrugged. “Perhaps the mere presence of such evil will make your mother think twice if she planned to hurt you again.”

I couldn’t quite tell if Ambrose was joking, but I supposed it wasn’t that much of a hardship to take Quill with me. I rolled my eyes and shifted so the raven’s weight was more evenly dispersed on my shoulder. “I find it ironic that the only time you two can agree is to gang up on me. Maybe you should set your own example. Isn’t there something you can do other than arguing?”

The brothers glanced at each other, then back at me, seeming wary.

“I’ve been looking through Grandmother’s study,” Ambrose said slowly.

“Fine. Then do that together.” I replied almost too quickly, jumping on the chance like a starving man on a crust of bread.

“Why?” Scion practically growled.

I shrugged, unable to think of a good enough reason why they should have to spend time together. In truth, I wasn’t even sure why I cared so much that they put aside their animosity once and for all, but I did. At the very least, it would make my life easier if my mate and my–I shook my head–hisbrother got along.

“I’ll bring Quill with me as long as you two promise to try and get along while I’m gone,” I promised.

Ambrose seemed unbothered. “Fine.”

“And agree not to kill each other,” I added.

Pointedly, no one said anything.

3

LONNIE

THE OBSIDIAN PALACE, EVERLAST CITY

Since my earliest recollection, my mother taught me the art of deception. Lie to protect others. Lie to protect myself. Lie to confirm my humanity. Somehow, in all that time it never occurred to me that Mother was lying too.

For the past seven years, I believed my mother was dead until Ambrose revealed to me that not only was she alive, but he also knew her whereabouts. She’d gone to the Unseelie kingdom of Underneath, at least partly, on his orders. However, he hadn’t expected her to be living comfortably in Bael’s father’s castle. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think of a single reason why she would have been there. Or—more importantly—why she wouldn’t be happy to see me.

If she could lie about that, then what else was she hiding? Perhaps our entire relationship was false.Maybe she’d never really loved me

Barely twenty minutes later, I made my way down to the palace dungeons.

The smell hit me first.

It was worse than I remembered, and yet I knew it would only grow stronger when I opened the door. A mixture of sweat and shit and misery. Like rotting bodies and stagnant water.

I stopped at the top of the long stairs and leaned against the wall, my head spinning. This was the other reason I’d wanted to go alone. No one needed to see my reaction to returning to this place–least of all Scion, who had been the one to imprison me here to begin with. I knew he felt haunted by the guilt of that, and I didn’t want to make it worse–not when he’d changed so much since then and we were finally in something of a good place.