Page 2 of In the Blood (The Forgotten Fae #1)

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I strode into the opulent throne room, trying my best to look like I belonged.

Portraits of long dead Kings and Queens stared lifelessly down at me.

It felt as if they were judging me, hissing, “ imposter, ” as I slinked by.

And they were right, I didn’t belong here.

I hadn’t been born in the castle, but instead had been abandoned here.

My father had left the night of Mama’s death, never to return.

My throat tightened when I thought of him. I didn’t know if he’d ever remarried, if he had other children. If he thought of me, he’d never bothered to let me know.

Ophelia had always treated me like a daughter. The only thing that came before me was her Kingdom. She’d taken the throne when King Hadrian died of a heart attack, years before I’d been born. While the council had strongly encouraged her to remarry and take a consort, she never had.

She might’ve been the only woman in Aurelius with any real power, and yet she was still bound to the rules of society.

Like a hobbled horse, her freedom was an illusion.

She believed that all people were born equal under the gods, but the mostly male council disagreed.

They believed that certain people were inherently better than others—that greatness was passed down through blood.

And I believed that they’d say and do anything to justify their greed.

I glanced around the room, noting the golden bronze statues of mythical creatures that lined the walls. They always caught my eye. As a child I would hide in here, staring at them for hours, pretending I was one of them .

A Sphinx, Unicorn, Dragon, Pooka, Phoenix, and Hydra all stood frozen in place, ferocious expressions on their face, as they protected the Queen.

The stewards of the gods— the Chosen Six .

They kept harmony between all beings. People occasionally prayed to them, but they were mostly just legend now, much like the gods.

I bowed to the statue closest to Ophelia—a Sphinx, known for its wisdom—then towards her.

I’d been performing this ritual for as long as I could remember.

“You look angelic , Marigold. Although, I must say, seeing you in white gives me heart palpitations after years of watching you muddy your dresses.” She smiled with a twinkle in her eye.

“I haven’t done that in years!” I laughed. “But you’re right. White is a bold choice where I’m concerned.”

“And how the years have flown by. It has been my greatest joy, watching you bloom. I’ll get emotional if I think on it for too long.

” She, indeed, looked close to tears—an incredibly rare event.

She made a point of never looking weak. I was tempted to remind her that I was the one who should be crying—that I had to go mingle with tedious twits for the rest of the evening.

But I bit my tongue, because I knew she was missing my mother… as was I.

Mama had died on my tenth birthday; today was the anniversary of her death. Whenever I turned a year older, I was reminded how many years it had been since I became motherless. Eleven .

“I wanted to wish you a happy birthday before the festivities begin and obligation sweeps me away.

I know this day, in particular, is hard for you.

" My aunt stepped off her throne and approached me, her cobalt velvet gown trailing behind her like a snaking river.

Salt and pepper hair blended with the silver of her crown, making the sapphire gems embedded in the head-piece glow like a halo.

Rays of sunshine spilled in from large windows, highlighting her olive skin. She looked so much like Mama in this light. The same slanted brown eyes, wide smile, and oval face. She brought me in for a deep hug and whispered, “I’m so proud of you for facing your fears today.”

I leaned into the embrace, soaking it in.

Ophelia loved me; she’d shown it in a million tiny ways—providing for me, giving me the best education, spending quality time with me, even when she was busy.

But this form of affection— hugging —I could count on one hand how many times this had happened.

She was cerebral, often stuck in her own head.

It had been an adjustment at first, compared to my overly-affectionate, excitable mother.

Gods, I missed her warmth. Her hugs. Her passion.

Ophelia pulled back and took a small trinket from her pocket.

“A birthday gift. This was your mother’s.

It’s an important piece of jewelry. I’ve been keeping it safe until you came of age.

” She held up a thin gold chain. There was a single square charm that hung from it, displaying the sigil of the gods, a six-pointed star.

Six was sacred to all: we had six royal advisors, six continents, six kingdoms, and six gods. The number was believed to be lucky—blessed by the once mighty gods. Despite the crumbling temples that sat abandoned across Erador—decaying proof of dwindling faith—some customs remained.

Like most people, I rarely turned to the gods in times of need.

In fact, I had a bad habit of using their names in vain.

According to Thea, I’d onlyhave myself to blame, when I was inevitably struck by lightning.

Ophelia and her most faithful followers still honored them as if they were real; therefore, I could recite their names in my sleep: Sivo, God of Water.

Aku, God of Shadow. Cyro, God of Fire. Beira, Goddess of Ice.

Terra, Goddess of Earth. Alya, Goddess of Wind.

Together, the gods ruled and protected Erador.

“Your mother wore this necklace every day until she left us. I know she’d want you to do the same. A symbol, to keep her close to you.” Ophelia gave me a sad smile. She took my hand in hers, passing it to me. It was warm to the touch, as if she’d just taken it off.

I held back tears as I squeezed her tight. “Thank you for keeping it safe all these years. I remember seeing it on her. I’d assumed it had been buried with her.” I turned away, not wanting to remember the details of Mama’s funeral. My father hadn’t attended.

She helped me clasp the necklace and centered the pendant on my chest. Her voice dropped low as she whispered, “Marigold, there are things I need to tell you… now that you’ve come of age—secrets I’ve kept to protect you and the realm.

It’s time you learned the truth. After the Debut, come find me and we’ll go on a walk.

” Her brows were set in a deep furrow. “There are some secrets that not even our guards or servants can be trusted with. ”

I nodded in understanding and chewed on the side of my cheek, wondering what it could be.

She turned back towards the throne, dismissing me in a way only a Queen could.

The guards ushered me out and I released a heavy sigh before muttering to the gods, “If you do exist, now would be a good time to prove it. Find me a way out of this evening .”

I walked the perimeter of the ballroom, keeping an eye out for Cara and handing out polite smiles to familiar faces.

As I glanced towards the dance floor, I tried to take steady, deep breaths.

My forehead prickled with cold sweat, my hands clenched into tight fists, while I fought the instinct to lock my spine and freeze in place.

I was not a deer being hunted, for gods sakes, this was just a party.

I was safe. But my body refused to listen to my mind.

The ballroom started to darken and blur and I backed against the wall to get my bearings.

Don ’ t faint. Don’t you dare faint.

The chatter would never end if I had a panic attack in the middle of the party. My mind flashed to Mama’s lifeless body— her lips tinged purple as she gasped for air . I inhaled and exhaled rapidly, trying to catch my breath. And then I saw Cara.

My body relaxed when I recognized her black hair and cocoa complexion in the sea of nobles.

I used her as my anchoring point to bring me back to the present.

She was wearing a jade green dress that accentuated her lean figure.

It shimmered as she swayed back and forth, trotting along the dance floor with a partner.

She always looked in her element when she danced, like a gazelle leaping through tall grass.

I followed their feet along the dance floor and fell into a trance. Breathing in, out, in, out…

A white-haired doctor yelled, “ She’s not breathing,” as he checked my mother ’ s pulse. I sat next to her, tears streaming down my cheeks as feet shuffled by. So many eyes watching—staring—doing nothing to help.

My father was on her other side, holding her hand. “Eliana…” His broken voice chanted her name over and over. We stared at each other, knowing the center of our world was gone.

I snapped out of the trance as the song ended, noting that Cara had spotted me and was making her way over. “Are you okay?” She placed her palm against my forehead. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. You’re ice cold.”

My hands shook as I became aware of my surroundings. I clung onto the sides of my dress in an attempt to stop the trembling.

“Let’s go sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

We settled ourselves in the designated wallflower section and I slowly sipped on water.

We sat in silence for a few minutes before my head cleared enough to ask about the latest gossip.

I needed something to distract me from the pungent smell of sweaty, overly-perfumed bodies.

Not missing a beat, she told me what notable people were attending tonight and who’d been dancing together so far.

It was her second year in society. “This will be the season I find my husband,” Cara insisted. I hated the idea of her marrying and moving away. She was my closest friend—my only friend.

If Cara was a blade of grass, deeply rooted and bending with the wind, then I was a dandelion, easily swept into infinite directions at the slightest breeze.

We balanced each other well. When we were children, I perpetually had skinned knees, tangled hair, and a propensity for pushing the limits.

She was often along for the ride, but only as an accomplice, never the instigator.

She was sensible until it came to love. Cara was a romantic—not an easy thing to be in high society, where people married for money and power. “ Only peasants marry for love, ” her father frequently reminded her. It hadn’t deterred her. She wanted someone who saw her as more than a commodity.

She turned down two perfectly mediocre gentlemen last season.

It had created tension between her and her parents.

Being the oldest, in a family of daughters, Cara was under pressure to marry well.

Her father was giving her one more season before he chose her husband for her.

I couldn’t stand the thought of her being forced into a loveless marriage.

She was a rare jewel amongst flat, smooth-brained river rocks.

She’d find love; I was sure of it. Men adored her.

They were drawn to her like a quill to parchment, especially once they saw her gliding across the dance floor.

She was a skilled player in the game of courtship, flattering them and flirting back effortlessly, yet still able to maintain an edge of mystery .

I, on the other hand, had no natural ability at attracting the opposite sex. It didn't matter because I planned on avoiding marriage as long as possible—council be damned . I’d accepted the fact that an arranged marriage was unavoidable, but I refused to let them rush me into it.

“Any suitors? Proposals? Do you have your eye on anyone yet?” I flashed her a mischievous grin.

“The season started two hours ago. No one worthy of my notice… yet.”

We giggled as we surveyed the room and saw several sets of eyes staring at us. We watched the crowd of dancers for several songs before I decided I couldn’t keep her to myself any longer. She needed to find a husband and had no time to waste.

“What about you and the stable boy ?” Cara nudged me playfully. My stomach sank as she unknowingly rubbed salt in the fresh wound.

“I ended it earlier today, actually. It was time.” Before she could pry any deeper, I stood and said, “I hate to make you sit with your socially inept friend, when you’re clearly meant to be on the dance floor. I’m going to take a walk through the gardens and get some fresh air before the Debut.”

She understood everything I said, and everything I didn’t say, as she squeezed my gloved hand.

“I’m always here to talk. You don’t have to face your hardships alone.

And… I’m sorry your mother isn’t here to see how gorgeous you look today.

” Her sincerity blurred my vision with tears that had been threatening to fall all day.

“It would be nice to have her here tonight, but I’m grateful to have you. I’ll be back soon. Please cover for me if anybody asks where I am.”

“I’ll tell them you’re powdering your nose.”

“Thank you, friend.” I grinned before making a beeline for the courtyard.