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“Of course they did.” She shook her head. “And was she?”

“Yes. And she was teaching me too.”

“Good. I should have started with you long ago. I’m sorry I didn’t. Although I don’t think I would’ve been much of a teacher for an Archfae.”

Quiet fell between us again as I thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I was afraid, I think. There were times that I wanted to, really. But I was scared that you’d be upset and leave. I was so worried about keeping you safe that I forgot you were growing up all along. Forgot you were becoming a powerful Archfae yourself. The years went by so fast, I think I just lost sight of it.”

“You should have at least told me that night. The night I left. I wouldn’t have gone into the world so blind.”

“I know, Hal, I know. You’re right. And I have thought that every day since you left.”

Another pause. The waves lapped in a soothing rhythm at the stone edge near our feet.

“Do you miss Fenodyr?” I asked.

My mother was quiet a moment. “I do. Although I don’t think about him as much now as I once did. But I dream of the Fiadhain every night, and of him often. I do still miss himdeeply. What we had… It was what they write stories about. He was like no one else I’ve ever known. And I don’t expect I’ll ever meet a man like him again. He was as much a part of the Fiadhain as the sea was, as the trees, the rivers, the creatures. Missing that wilderness and missing him are the same.”

“Would you go back to him? If you could?”

A longer silence this time. “I couldn’t leave you and Noirin here. Or at least I always thought I couldn’t, but you’re both already grown now. She’ll be out of the house and on her own soon. But I still don’t think I could leave you both.”

“But without us to think about, would you go?”

“Ah, that’s a hypothetical I can’t comprehend. The two of you are as much a part of me as my own heart. That would be like telling me I had to cut off my arms and leave them here before I could go back home.” She paused in thought. “But... maybe if I knew you were both safe and happy, if I knew I could come back to you, or that you could visit me. Maybe then I would go. If it were possible. But since the Veil has been sealed, well, there’s no chance.”

“Maybe with the power of an Archfae we could figure it out.”

My mother looked at me and smiled. “With your power, perhaps you could. But I would never ask that of you. If you want to forget all about this and live a quiet life as a human woman, I can cast that glamour back on you. It may not be as good as Fen’s, but it will get you by. We can make you disappear again.”

“No.” It was definitive. “Even if I wanted to, it’s too late for that. But gods above and below, Mother, an Archfae?” The gravity of it was sinking in now. I had tried to prepare myself for this conversation, but this was so far beyond what I could have imagined that it overwhelmed me. How could she not have told me for all these years? How could she let me live my life thinking I was something I wasn’t, suffering the consequences of a fae-touched appearance when I had the power of a demi-god lurking beneath my skin?

“If you won’t hide it, then I think you only have one real choice. Learn to master it. Use it to your advantage. There are worse things to be,” she said.

“Worse things to suddenly find out you are, you mean,” I snapped. After a lifetime of lies, I did not appreciate her trying to tell me what to do with the truth.

“Hal, you realize this might make you one of the most powerful being in the Midjalend. Maybe eventhemost powerful being.”

“And I’m supposed to be happy about that?”

“No, I didn’t mean–”

“Didn’t mean what? To have an Archfae daughter? What am I supposed to do now? I’ll be a target to every king, every country.”

“You think I didn’t think about this? You think I didn’t agonize over this every day of my pregnancy? You think I wanted to leave Fen, leave my home, for this? I did thisfor you, Halja. All for you. To keep us alive. So I will not apologize. I do not regret my choices, not for an instant. And I don’t regret you, either. So don’t twist my words on me. I made my choices and I stand by them.”

Silence settled between us.

She was right. She had made a great sacrifice for me. But I wasn’t ready to let it go. Wasn’t able to reconcile that she had turned my childhood, my identity, into a lie. Not yet, at least.

“Why do you stay with him?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t want to try to raise you alone. I wanted you to have a home.”

“I understand why you settled with him in the first place,” I said. “I asked why you stay.”