Page 52

M cColl

I jut out my jaw, everything in me tightening with anger and frustration. “I’m not going inside,” I say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not sitting down. I’m not calming down, either. I’m staying right here until she arrives. And she’d better get here soon, or so help me…”

Lydia shifts uncomfortably. “McColl, please. It would be better if—”

“No.” I plant my feet more firmly on the stone step outside the door.

“Whatever my mother has done, whatever trap she’s set for Kian, I’m not going to sit inside like a good little girl.

” My voice cracks slightly. “I’m staying out here where I can see what’s happening.

She’d better get back soon,” I mutter the last to myself.

“And he’d better be alive.” My voice breaks a little.

“She will be here soon,” Lydia says. “She was clear on that. We were to contain you until she got here.”

The minutes crawl by. Every sound makes me jump, from the rustle of leaves in the wind, a bird calling from somewhere in the distance, the soft murmur of conversation between the Children of the Veil positioned around the house.

My stomach churns with anxiety, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking.

I start to pace to give myself something to do.

Where is he? What has she done to him?

The questions circle in my mind like vultures, growing more frantic with each passing moment. I pace back and forth in front of the door, ignoring Lydia’s increasingly worried glances.

Then I see her.

Finally.

A figure appears at the top of the hill, walking down the path toward the house with measured, deliberate steps. Even from this distance, I recognize my mother’s bearing, the way she holds herself like she owns the very ground beneath her feet.

She’s not alone.

Several Children of the Veil flank her, their dark green cloaks flowing behind them as they match her pace.

Behind them, more figures follow. Villagers drawn by curiosity or concern, their faces tight with worry.

The procession grows larger as it moves down the path, with more people joining from side streets and doorways.

I even spot Seraphina Blackthorne among them, one of The Seven from The Circle, her silver-streaked hair catching the light. More are gathering outside this house, trying to peer through the windows or through the open door.

Word is out that something is happening. Something big.

I start forward instinctively, desperate to reach my mother, to demand answers, to find out what she’s done to Kian. But Lydia’s hand shoots out to grab my arm.

“You can’t,” she says quietly, her grip firm but not painful. “My orders were specific, McColl. You stay right here until she arrives. We don’t want her angry. Trust me on that one.”

“Fine,” I bite out. I’ve waited this long already. Whatever she has done is done.

I watch in growing agony as the procession makes its way down the hillside. My mother walks a little ahead of them. With each step that brings her closer, more details become visible, and my heart sinks further.

Her ceremonial purple robes are torn and dirty, the rich fabric stained with mud and something that looks suspiciously like soot.

A bloody scrape mars her right cheek, the wound still fresh and angry-looking.

Her right sleeve is singed, the fabric blackened and burned in a pattern that speaks of magical combat.

But despite her disheveled appearance, there’s something in her bearing that makes my blood run frigid. The way she holds her head high, the satisfied curve to her lips, the gleam in her dark eyes. Oh, by the goddess, she looks like a cat who’s caught not just the canary, but the entire flock.

“What have you done?” The words tear from my throat the moment she’s within earshot, raw with fear and desperation.

My mother pauses halfway up the path, tilting her head to study me with those calculating eyes.

“Patience, daughter,” she says, her voice perfectly controlled despite her battered appearance. “We need to be civilized about this. Let’s go inside where we can be comfortable and discuss things properly as a mother and daughter should.” She touches her throat delicately. “I'm quite parched.”

Parched.

Is that all she has to say for herself?

“I want to know what you’ve done to Kian.” My voice vibrates with emotion . Anger, fear, resentment. “Where is he? What—?”

But she’s already walking past me through the door, which she closes as I come inside, too. She’s dismissing my questions with the same casual indifference she’s always shown my feelings.

That’s when something inside me snaps.

All the fear, all the helpless rage, all the terror of not knowing what’s happened to the man I love, it erupts in a surge of desperate fury. I launch myself at her, my hands reaching for her throat, ready to shake the answers out of her if necessary.

“What did you do to him?”

I don’t even see her move. One moment, I’m rushing toward her, and the next, I’m frozen in place, my body locked rigid by invisible bonds. Magic wraps around me like chains, holding me suspended in mid-air for a heartbeat before she casually flicks her wrist.

I’m flung backward across the room like a rag doll, my body slamming into the stone wall with enough force to drive the breath from my lungs. I crumple to the floor, stunned and gasping, my vision swimming from the impact.

Before I can even think about getting up, those magical bonds wrap around me again, pinning me to the floor. I struggle against them, but it’s useless. It’s like trying to break steel cables with my bare hands.

My mother hasn’t even moved from her spot. She pours a glass of water from the nearby pitcher and takes a sip. Then she takes another, watching me with mild interest, as if she’s observing an insignificant insect.

“Have you forgotten your place?” she asks conversationally, setting down her glass with a soft clink.

“You are out of control, McColl. Completely and utterly out of control. It’s my job as your mother to bring you back in line, and that’s exactly what I’ve done.

I cleaned up your mess, turned something around that could have been a disaster. ” She smiles to herself.

I try to move but can’t. I’m still frozen.

The casual ease with which she’s overpowered me is a stark reminder of the vast gulf between our abilities. I may have access to my power now and excellent schooling behind me, but she’s had decades to hone her craft.

She releases the spell, and I slump against the floor, my whole body aching from the magical assault. Slowly, painfully, I push myself up to sitting, glaring at her with all the hatred I can muster.

“Let me be very clear,” she continues, her voice taking on the tone that makes me feel small and insignificant again. Like a failure. “The fact that you’re my daughter will only protect you so long. You can only take it so far. Try something like that again, and you’ll be sorry, young lady.”

The threat hangs in the air between us.

“Where is Kian?” I ask through gritted teeth. “If you’ve hurt him, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” She laughs. “What exactly are you going to do in retaliation, daughter? Please, enlighten me.”

The cruel amusement in her voice makes me want to throw myself at her again, consequences be damned. But I force myself to stay still, to think. Getting myself killed won’t help Kian. I need to take a few breaths. I need to calm down. I need to do it for him.

“Please, will you tell me where he is, Mother?” It hurts me to talk to her with such respect, but I do it anyway.

I need to know.

I have to help him if I can.

“Now, was that so difficult?”

I bite my tongue.

“You can relax,” she huffs, waving a dismissive hand. “The Emptyfae King is more valuable to us alive than dead. I’m going to offer him as a gift.” Her eyes gleam. “After all, this is the era of the witch, and we must position ourselves accordingly.”

“A gift? To whom?” I have to work to keep my voice steady, because even as I ask the question, I know the answer. The horrible, devastating truth that makes my world tilt on its axis.

“To Queen Snow, of course,” my mother says with the casual tone one might use to discuss the weather.

“She’s always been good to her allies. By delivering one of the lost kings to her, we ensure that she’ll go easy on us when the time comes.

We’ll get certain privileges and garner her favor.

It’s quite brilliant, if I do say so myself. ”

The words hit me like physical blows. “You’re going to hand him to her…to Snow?” I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. I was so sure she would kill him. Not this. Never this. “You’re giving him to her to be tortured and killed.”

“Oh, moons, no.” She laughs. “He’s far too useful for that. She’ll want information about his fellow kings, their plans, their hiding places. Information he’ll gladly give.”

“Never!” I shout. “He wouldn’t. Kian is no traitor. Not like you. You went back on your word!” I struggle to my feet, my legs shaking with rage and terror. “You agreed to an alliance with the lost kings.”

“Did I?” She tilts her head, looking genuinely puzzled. “No, daughter, I believe I agreed to an alliance with Kian himself. He was to act as a go-between. And that’s exactly what he’ll be, but just not in the way he expected.”

Her smile is cruel. “He’ll bridge the relationship between Queen Snow, who is a witch herself, and our coven.

It’s perfect, really. Our lives are going to be so much better.

I’ll be revered not only by our coven but by all the covens across the entire realm.

I’ve paved the way for our people’s greatness. ”

“Our downfall, you mean. She’ll use you!” I shout, desperation making my voice crack. “Just like she uses everyone she gets her claws into. That’s how Snow operates. She takes and then discards when they’re no longer useful! You’re walking into a trap! Open your eyes, Mother, please.”

But my mother waves away my concerns with irritating confidence. “Nonsense. You’re being overdramatic, as always. She rewards loyalty, and by bringing her one of the lost kings, I’m proving our loyalty beyond question.”

“How?” The question bursts from me before I can stop it. “How did you manage to turn him against me? When I left him this morning, he was—” My voice breaks. “He loved me. I know he did.”

“He also spoke of love. You’re both equally pathetic.” She rolls her eyes.

He did?

Kian said the same thing. I warm and wilt all at once.

“It was easy to split you up. If you love each other so much, it should never have been that easy.”

“How did you worm your way into his head? What did you say to him?”

“There was nothing I could have said. I’m not stupid. All I had to do was speak through someone you trust.”

“What do you mean?” I ask with growing horror.

“The old woman hasn’t been truly lucid in the longest time,” my mother explains with the same tone she might use to describe a particularly clever bit of spell work.

“Her mind is almost completely gone. It was simple to use her as a puppet, to make her mouth speak my words instead of her own addled thoughts.”

Horror washes over me in cold waves. “Both times. Both conversations I had with her, that was you.”

“I let you speak with her for the first few minutes on that first day…but then I soon took over. Do you know that I thought you would see through it? I really did.” She scratches her chin, looking deep in thought.

“But you didn’t. You were so desperate for some sort of connection.

It was me. Did you truly think that she could suddenly become coherent just because you were in the room?

” She shakes her head. “I needed to set the stage, to plant the seeds of doubt in the right places. It was simply a matter of timing things correctly so that dear Kian would overhear exactly what I wanted him to hear.”

The memory comes rushing back like a bucket of cold water.

I recall my grandmother’s words about using Kian to get my magic, her strange phrasing that felt so wrong at the time.

So unlike her. And Kian…Kian had been outside the door.

The door that was ajar when I know I closed it.

He’d heard every damning word. I didn’t get a chance to correct her because she drifted off at just the right time.

It was all my mother. All her. Evil as sin.

Using my poor, defenseless grandmother as her puppet.

It’s sickening.

“You made him think I was using him.” My voice is barely a whisper. “That there was never more…at least for me.”

“I made him see the truth,” she corrects.

“You were using him, after all. Perhaps not consciously, but you did gain considerably from your association with him. And now that the usefulness of that association has ended, it’s time to move on to more profitable arrangements.

Did you truly think I would allow my only daughter to wed a fae? A fae?” she repeats like it is a curse.

“Where is he?” Panic rises in my chest like floodwater. “What have you done with him? Is he hurt? Is he—”

But even as I ask the questions, something prickles at the edge of my consciousness.

A memory, half-formed and slippery. One of the Children of the Veil flanking my mother as she walked down the path…

I pull at the thought, the threads slowly forming a picture.

He’d been taller than the rest, broader through the shoulders.

His hood had been up, obscuring his face, but I’d been so focused on my mother’s battered appearance that I hadn’t paid attention.

But now that I think about it… The way he carried himself. His movements. I would know them anywhere.

Ice shards form in my veins as the realization hits me.

It was him. It was Kian walking beside my mother, dressed in the dark green cloak of her warriors. Not bound, not shackled, not fighting.

Walking willingly.

How? Why?

“No,” I breathe, backing toward the door. “No, no, no…”

I run as fast as my shaking legs will carry me.