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Chapter Twenty-Three

They had stopped at an elegant little inn. They were careful not to pick the fanciest one they feared the Northern fae might stay in. But a human woman ran this inn, and it was still a fine accommodation.

Only one thought stayed lodged in Remy’s mind: Ruadora was alive. Rua was through the northern mountain pass, and it was less than a day’s ride into Yexshire. Remy’s body still buzzed from the excitement of what Baba Morganna had told her.

Remy had lived her entire life thinking she was the last of her family, that she was the only Dammacus sibling to survive the Siege of Yexshire. She wished she had lit that red candle a long time ago, wished she had contacted Baba Morganna as a child. She would have known that Rua was still alive and that there was a safe place in the world for red witches. Remy would have gone to them straight away. She would have saved herself years of working in taverns, hiding.

Hiding, it was all she knew how to do.

As she stood in her nightgown facing the bathroom mirror, her long black hair spilling down her chest, a human woman stared back. She had been hiding in her human form for thirteen years, mistaken for a witch because of her magic. Yes, she would let slip a trickle of her fae power so she could run faster or see more clearly in the dark, but that small step into her fae self was as far as she ever let herself go.

Remy had wanted to ride through the night to see Rua, but she let Hale convince her to rest in the town of Andover. He had given her that pleading look that begged her to take it easy, if only for a day. Watching her die only yesterday, he refused to let her push herself. Remy knew she could say no, she could push Hale harder to relent . . . but she had agreed to stop because of the very reason she stood in front of the bathroom mirror now.

Hale had been right—a fae form would be so much safer in the North. If she changed, she would have the protection of her fae form . . . but she couldn’t find that strand of magic that controlled her glamour anymore.

Remy didn’t know her true face. This glamour had become who she was. She watched that human reflection, focusing, clenching every muscle in her body so tight and willing the change.

Nothing.

She tried harder, screwing her eyes shut.

“Work, damn it!” she cursed.

Nothing.

Remy couldn’t do it. She pictured herself riding into Yexshire in her human body. Riding through the ruins of a castle, the site of her parents’ murder, while she was still hiding. She was such a coward. How was she meant to claim her place on the High Mountain throne? How was she meant to lead the resurrection of her people when she hid from her own reflection? How could she face her sister only to see that disappointment on her face? She would let everyone down.

Remy took a deep frustrated breath and clenched her fists, trying again. The buzzing she felt behind her eyes and in her hands was her red witch magic, though, not her fae magic. The entire room was shaking with her effort.

Hale knocked at the bathroom door. “Remy?”

She said nothing. She couldn’t face him either. She couldn’t let her Fated mate see how broken she was.

Broken. That’s what she was—a broken, foolish coward. Her parents would be so disappointed in her too. Her parents were brave and courageous. They had faced the world with all that they were.

She heard the full-length mirror shaking on its frame, but she could not open her eyes.

Remy did not even try to save them. She did not even try to save herself. Letting the world just happen to her, she let everyone tell her what to do and who to be and she had barely fought them. It was a life of nothingness: unnoticed, unremarkable, unworthy of glory or love.

Glass splintered in front of her, but she still would not open her eyes.

That was the truth, wasn’t it? She had never fought and her body knew it. What had she done to deserve the love of her parents, her court, her mate? Her human body only knew how to fear and how to hide. She wasn’t a princess in any manner of the word, so how could she change into one? She wasn’t brave like her parents. Her body knew it.

She had not earned the right to be who she really was.

Shards of glass rained down as Remy collapsed in a heap in front of them. The bathroom door burst open and then Hale was in front of her.

“Are you hurt?” he shouted, running over to her cowering form. He pulled her hands from her face with gentle fingers. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Remy said, her voice cracking. Her face burned hot with rage as she said, “No. I’m not fine.”

“What happened?” She sensed Hale’s eyes scanning her body, searching for where the shards of the mirror may have sliced her, but Remy knew she was unharmed.

“I can’t do it,” Remy murmured, balling her fists.

“Do what?” Hale asked.

“I can’t take off the glamour. I can’t change.” Remy chewed her cheek so hard she was about to draw blood.