Page 161 of A Cursed Son

I go up the stairs and dare to look back one last time. Marlak isn’t looking at me. It’s as if I didn’t exist. Azur and a pixie are putting something on his wrists, some kind of armbands made of some black metal. I’m surprised to see him subdued like that, defeated. Without his magic, it makes sense. And it still strikes me as wrong, illogical, as if there’s something I need to notice.

“Astra, let’s go,” Otavio says.

I turn and follow him. Some things need to be left behind.

What I thought we had was a lie, and at least the lie is over now. Am I even married? I don’t want to wonder if he ever liked me, if there was ever any hint of truth to anything, because those are silly thoughts that won’t change the past.

But it doesn’t make sense.

I want to smack myself. I’m stupid, that’s all. Things don’t need to make sense. But Otavio’s presence in front of me reminds me of his teachings, of the importance of understanding people’s motivations. Well, Marlak’s motivation was activating his dagger.

It doesn’t make sense, though. Why did he wait so long to bring me here? Why did he cut leaves for my dress? That was for his friend. His need for my magic even explains why he wanted Nelsin and Ferer to protect me. It doesn’t explain why he took me to the Nymph queen and introduced me as his wife. What does it change, though?

Outside, by the entrance, the huge rock is shattered, and two more pixies stand by two round silver carriages. I can’t imagine how they got here, through this dense forest, considering there are no horses or trails. Otavio leads me to one carriage and we enter. Through the window, I see three pixies putting on some kind of harness, then flying. A few moments later, we soar into the air.

The pixies are carrying us with those thin, delicate wings. This is worse than wingless Cherry Cake.

Otavio’s expression is serious. “How are you?”

I’m not even sure what to say, or if the question makes sense. I just shrug. “Fine.”

He sighs. “I told you not to go ahead with this wedding, Astra, I did. Thankfully, despite your foolishness, we were still graced with luck and were able to save you from that maniac’s grasp. He almost killed you!”

I don’t think my life was in danger at any moment, but that’s not a point worth arguing. I give him a polite smile. “Thanks for saving me.” I should be more thankful, I know, but there’s a void where my heart should be.

I look out the window, see clouds below us, and can’t believe how high we are. On top of everything, I’m feeling queasy wondering what could happen if those pixies decide to let go of this carriage. Useless thread of thought.

Otavio’s still staring at me as if I had failed a test. “It was so close. Now listen to me, and listen carefully. We’ll need to play it right this time. King Renel knows you’re Tiurian, but other fae don’t. Not yet, at least.”

I tremble. “Yet?” I must have misheard him.

He nods. “I had to… adapt the plan. You’ll learn more about it soon. For now, all you’ll have to do is seduce the fae king.”

I don’t know how to reply. Why is it that he talks to me as if he had the right to tell me what to do? Perhaps because my life has always been that way in the Elite Tower. I was raised as a tool, and it’s no wonder he sees me as one. But this is not the time to try to defy him or to change a dynamic that goes back nineteen years.

There is something I need to point out, though. “But he knows I’m not Driziely.”

Otavio laughs and waves a hand. “Driziely. Krastel. Fae don’t care about human nobility. But he’ll want a Tiurian bride, one with purple hair and royal blood.”

My heart pauses. My breath hitches. I feel cold all over, then I blink, stunned. “You know who my parents were?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “Of course not. Tiurians don’t have kings or queens—but Renel doesn’t know it. It’s all a game. All pretend. And it doesn’t matter. Use your skills and seduce him. That’s your assignment. For glory and revenge, we’ll need the might of the Crystal Court.”

I was too stunned to think, too brokenhearted to feel, but it’s time for me to smarten up and try to understand what’s going on. “Whose glory?”

He holds my hand. “You have no idea for how long I wanted to tell you, how much it pained me to see you alone, sad, unaware of your own power, unaware of… everything. I’m Tiurian too, and we’ll regain our glory. You’ll be welcomed by your own people, and you’ll be yourself again, without any fear.”

My people. I’ve always wanted to meet my people.

No. I’ve always been ashamed of my people. “And yet you let me grow up thinking we’re monsters, darksouls. You told me my magic was dirty, dangerous. You never told me my magic could be traced.”

“I had no choice. You raise a snake in a mouse nest, you need to make sure it looks, thinks, and talks like a mouse. You think it’s easy to raise a purple-haired Tiurian in the castle of her enemies? A child? What can you tell a child?”

“I haven’t been a child for years.”

“Enough of this.”

“Or what? You’ll replace me? Are Tarlia and Sayanne Tiurian as well?” My heart bleeds as I consider how much we could have shared, all the ways we could have supported each other.