Page 19 of A Court of Wings and Shadows

Alahathrial’s expression didn’t shift, but something passed behind his lavender eyes—old sorrow. Deeper than any wound I’d ever known.

“I’ve been here since the Unification,” he said. “I was a soldier during the final push… one of the few who survived when the Light Court fell. The rest of my people died on blood-soaked soil.”

Tae stiffened beside me.

So did I.

“You’re the last?” I asked, barely able to speak.

He nodded slowly. “The last free Light Fae, as far as I know.”

I hesitated. “The king… he’s searching for something. We believe he’s trying to locate the Fae Sanctuary.”

Alahathrial’s gaze darkened.

“If it still exists,” he said, his voice quiet now. “It may have fallen in the years since. Hidden beneath illusions, lost to time… But I have no doubt the Blood Fae are hunting it too. They would see the last of my people extinguished. Burn the sanctuary to ash.”

Tae leaned forward. “Do you know about a weapon? One the king seeks?”

Alahathrial tilted his head. “A weapon?”

I nodded. “Something called the Virelith Crystal.”

The name changed him.

His composure cracked, only slightly, but it was enough. His eyes widened, breath caught, the old calm giving way to something almost feral.

“It was thought destroyed before the war,” he said. “We believed it shattered to keep it from falling into Blood Fae hands. If it still exists…” He shook his head. “It will be in the sanctuary. Protected by the ancestral magic of our bloodlines. Wards that even I could not breach.”

He met my gaze, sharp and solemn.

“It does not belong in human hands.”

I let the silence stretch. “So you’ve never seen it?”

“No,” he said. “It is legend. Whispers passed through generations. It was before my time.”

I studied him.

The white hair. The pointed ears. The lavender eyes that reminded me of Zander’s.

A memory rose—Solei telling me I wasn’t meant for the Order. That I was born from something ancient.

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then breathed the question I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Are you my father?”

Alahathrial smiled, not with mockery but with a softness that made the tight ache in my chest press deeper.

“I have fathered many children,” he said gently, “but you are not one of them.”

A strange breath left me, part relief, part disappointment.

“Your bloodline,” he continued, “is older than my own.”

That made me sit up straighter. “You know who my parents are?”