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“There are few things that will get you ostracized in the Otherworld as quickly as being poor and being weak. And growing up, that’s what people thought of me and my mother—that she was a scribe because she could only wield weak amounts of magic and her son couldn’t wield any at all.”

My heart is beginning to hurt. I didn’t expect this when I asked about his mother.

“Being seen as poor and weak made us targets,” he continues. “For my mother, it came in the shape of bad men. There were several fairies who went missing on our island after they encountered my mother. She never breathed a word about what happened, and I didn’t know better at the time, but…I don’t doubt my mother did something to them.”

“And what about you?” I ask.

“What about me?” Des responds.

“How did you get around being a target?”

Des smiles, but it’s a little malicious. “I didn’t, cherub. I just got around my mother’s second rule.”

Rule number two: Des must control his temper.

“Fairy children love nothing more than picking on the vulnerable,” he says. “My mother couldn’t stop the bullying, and she couldn’t prevent me from defending myself, so she coached me on how to fight and how to separate my emotions from a battle.”

Who was this woman who was once a part of the royal harem before she became a lowly scribe? Who made her son control his magic and his temper but still taught him to fight?

“I don’t understand,” I say, “why hide your power in the first place?”

Des strokes a hand down my back. “That is a question for another time. But for now, I will tell you this: ill-fated mothers, cruel fathers, and friendless childhoods—you and I, cherub, really do share similar tragedies.”

Chapter 24

“You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” I tell Des.

The two of us sit in a large atrium among a throng of other Solstice guests, all dining on tea, fruit, nuts, and breakfast pastries as the sun glitters in the large glass windows.

I lean back in my seat, kicking my feet up on the edge of the table before I realize I’m wearing a dress.

Whoops. This is why I don’t usually do dresses. They’re not terribly versatile. Also, this bodice is totally constricting my stomach.

I pull at it as I take in the fairies around us. Des and I are at our own private table; his guards and the nobles of the Night Kingdom sit at the tables surroundings ours. Farther out, members of the Flora and Fauna kingdoms also feast.

On the whole, the crowd looks just a smidge worse for the wear. There might be lazy smiles and casual touches, but I’ve seen several fairies hide a yawn behind their hand, and the conversations are somewhat muted.

Noticeably absent from the group breakfast are Mara and the Green Man. Their raised table sits at the far end of the room, looking lonely.

I’m about to ask Des what’s up with the Flora rulers’ relationship when, out of nowhere, my training leathers materialize in midair, falling to the table a split second later. They knock over a container of cream and the last of my coffee, most of the outfit landing in a bowl of honey.

Oh God, please tell me I’m hallucinating.“Seriously, Des?”

The two of us are garnering attention from other tables.

He stretches, completely unbothered by the stares, the smallest sliver of his abs peeking out beneath the edge of his fitted shirt. “Training begins in thirty minutes,” he announces.

You’vegotto be kidding me.

“Training freak,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

***

An hour later, I’m clad in my leathers, my daggers at my sides and a sword in my hand.