Page 86

I refused to believe it. There was so much goodness in my mate, so much kindness and drive for what was just and fair. She couldn’t possibly be the child of the tyrannical queen who ruled through pain and suffering.

“Caldris,” Imelda said, stepping up in front of me. She halted my progress, stopping me from reaching my mate and the intense waves of grief that pulsed off of her.

“What is it?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I couldn’t feel the cold winter air on the bare skin of my torso, but the intent expression on Imelda’s face made me uncomfortable. If she was ready to tell me that my mate was the daughter of Mab, I would lose control over the rage trapped within me.

“I need you to make me a promise,” she said, hesitating as she looked back toward the fire.

“I don’t make promises to anyone but her,” I said, nodding my head to my mate. Her arms were raised toward the sky, her hands and fingers dancing as if she was playing with the very threads that hung from the constellations above her head.

“Promise me you’ll protect her. Keep her safe; not only from harm but from those who would seek to use her for her power,” she said, and I raised an eyebrow at her when she paused. She had to have known that such a promise was a given. I would do anything to protect Estrella, at the cost of the very world itself. “But if you fail to do that, if Estrella is lost to the darkness, promise me you’ll help me end it.”

“What?” I asked, certain I hadn’t heard her right.

Imelda’s face twisted, her nostrils flaring as she worried her bottom lip and sniffled. The first tear fell, and she shook her head. “You didn’t feel it, did you?”

“Feel what?”

“When she hid the moon and stars from view. They weren’t just hidden behind the clouds; it was like they ceased to exist,” Imelda said, crossing her arms over her chest to mirror my posture. The witch’s face twisted with pain, as if the memory of that loss was so great she couldn’t allow herself to think of it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, stepping around her to approach Estrella.

Imelda grabbed my forearm, halting me once more as my gaze dropped to the contact. “I mean it, Caldris. I don’t know if she is Mab’s daughter or something else, but that kind of magic could change the world. The two of you could rebuild Alfheimr to be a haven for all, or you could drag it deeper into the darkness Mab created. If Estrella cannot control the magic trapped inside of her, think of the damage she could cause.”

“She thinks you care about her. She thinks you and Fallon are her friends, and I would be entirely comfortable saying she loves you like family, even though she barely knows you. You repay that by coming to me and asking me to kill my mate?” I asked, my brow furrowing as she stared up at me with tears in her mismatched eyes.

“I love her. I have adored that girl in every one of her lives, and I know her well enough to know that she would want someone to stop her from becoming the monster she would hate. I’m not asking you to kill her just in case. I’m asking you to do what needs to be done if the Estrella we know is ever lost to us,” the witch said, her bottom lip trembling as she glanced up at the moon.

“I would gladly sacrifice this world and everyone in it for her. What do I care of your desire to have a moon in the sky to draw power from?” I asked, my eyes hardening into a glare.

“That’s not what this is—”

“Don’t ever come to me with this again, and if you ever try to harm her, I will put you down myself, witch,” I growled, striding past her to approach my mate.

“Are you going to tell her?” Imelda asked, swallowing as I turned to look back at her over my shoulder.

I studied her, contemplating it and knowing that I could have more time with my mate if she lost the sense of loyalty she felt for Imelda. It would drive a wedge between Fallon and her, leaving Estrella with no one but me to rely on. It shouldn’t have appealed as much as it did, but after centuries without her, I wasn’t just possessive over her body. I was possessive over her attention, and wanted to be the only one she spent time with.

“No,” I said finally, watching as the witch’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I would do anything to protect her. Even shelter her from the truth of your betrayal.” I turned, leaving Imelda behind me as she closed her eyes slowly.

Drawing cool air into my lungs, I willed my body to relax, pushing the stress and rage away as I watched Estrella’s fingers dance over the threads I couldn’t see. They must have been quite the sight, hanging from the sky and shimmering in the light of the moon. I raised a hand, looking down at my fingers and wondering what it was in my mate that she could see such things when I could not.

“I miss you every single day,” she whispered, the sadness in her voice cracking something inside my chest. “But fuck if I don’t hate you too. I hate you for not telling me the truth, for lying to me all my life. WhatamI? Am I her daughter? Is that why you were so desperate to keep me from the Fae?” she asked, and it took me only a moment to realize that she was speaking to her brother.

I paused, waiting for a lull in her one-sided conversation before I would approach. I didn’t want to encroach on her private moment or the ways she needed to grieve. “I can feel you watching me,” she said, her voice louder. It sank inside me, and I knew she was speaking to me; she sensed me the same way I felt her when she was near or far.

I strode toward her, dropping down onto the blanket beside her, but I kept my gaze off her face, staring up at the stars and wishing I could see what she saw. I wished we could share the glimmering threads that filled her vision.

Maybe seeing would help me understand better, and to grasp why she could see them when the Gods I knew could not. If she was a second-generation God like me, why was there such a variance in the way our powers manifested?

What would reveal itself when she stepped on Faerie soil?

She sat up finally, staring into the flames as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Was there ever a time when you felt guilt for the lives you took?” she asked, finally turning her stare to me. It was filled with the glimmering lights of the stars, the black tinted with purple and specked with gold.

“Yes,” I said, nodding as I reached out and touched her hand with mine. “When Mab first started treating me like an executioner, I felt more guilt than you could possibly imagine over the lives I took.”

“What about lives you took willingly? Did those weigh on you too?” she asked.

“Do you feel guilty? For killing Octavian?” I asked, reading through the questions she asked. She wanted another creature who’d had a similar experience to commiserate with, but I’d never taken a life without knowing the cost until I’d leveled Calfalls. Not on my own terms; not of my own free will.