Page 11

11

THE LEAST TERRIBLE CHOICE

Darina

I'm not alone when I wake, and the body wrapped around me is as familiar as it is comforting. I take a big whiff, my arms holding on to the taste of home like it could disappear if I let it go for even one instant, holding on to my sister.

She's here. She's safe. Although she's much taller and her frame larger than mine, she's the little spoon.

I try not to squeeze her too tight, thinking she's asleep at first. Then I hear the soft sobs.

"I'm sorry," I say against her neck, meaning it with all my heart. "Mom, Dad…"

She stiffens. "I know. You can add Ben to the list, too."

Ben ? Something happened to her fiancé? Oh, god.

"I know how devastated you must be." Her voice is sharp as a knife.

"I might not have been fond of the guy," I say carefully, "but I didn't want him to be hurt. What happened?"

"They came for me. A woman—short, pink skin—and a man. They killed him."

Fuck .

"It's my fault. I don't know how to?—"

"Stop," she demands. "Trust me, if I could shove all the blame onto you and wrap it up with a neat bow, I would. But you weren't the one who killed him. You weren't the one who killed Mom or Dad, either."

She…can't believe that. "If it weren't for me…for what I am."

"Yeah, well, that's not your fault either, now, is it? You just are what you are."Rachel shifts around the bed until she's facing me. "Weird and strange and selfish, and sometimes cruel. And my sister. The only family I have left."

Her lower lip quivers. "Don't make me blame you. It'd be so easy to. But it wouldn't be right, or helpful. I need you too much."

And then we're both crying, and hugging, because she's here, and she's safe.

"What happened?" I finally manage to ask. "If they found you?—"

"Your boy—or your other boy, I guess. The prince. He turned up and killed them both. He wanted to take me away somewhere safe, I think." She hesitates. "I made him bring me to you. Loch said I wasn't safe here, though."

Loch is right. I'm not safe with these people either. I remember them, calling for my blood in the cave. I won't delude myself into thinking that because I managed to stay away from them for the three days of the rites, anything has changed for them.

I'm still prey.

The situation is different than it was when I first arrived. For one, I have a few people on my side. But things also changed for me, in me, from the moment that knife entered my heart. I might have been dying, but I could sense it. Thousands of years of knowledge, skills, secrets passing to me. Power, coming into my skin.

Before, I had little bits and pieces crossing my mind, knowledge about the fae world that I shouldn’t have possessed, but there under the surface. Now, it’s part of my memory. I think I heard about something like that for animals on the discovery channel. Genetic memory? Humans barely have any of it, hence why they’re so helpless at birth, and for years after, but foals just bounce up and run within hours of their birth. No one needs to how to teach them how to get up. They know.

I know things now. How to coax spiders into weaving silks, the like of which no human has ever seen—stronger than gold, softer than feather. How to carve a man’s heart and yet keep it beating. The taste of blood and bone and flesh. How to make a stew from the body of my enemies to gain their power.

Things that should make me sick . They don’t.

We hags come of age the moment we claim the life of one of our bloodline. I did so. I took my own, but the laws of nature still considered the deal struck.

Of course, by all logic, I would have died. Should have died.

My attention is drawn back to that strange heart of mine, beating so strong.

There's something else different in me. Something watchful, an ever-present entity right here, waiting, biding its time.

You're harboring the All Goddess inside you.

I don't quite know what that means, but I don't doubt it. At the moment, the strange presence I sense is silent, watching and waiting peacefully. Something tells me it won't remain that way. There will be consequences to what Ryther has done for me— to me. To us.

I have her opposite, the Undoing.

Yes, things are incontestably different than they were when I first arrived in this wretched place, but I can’t persuade myself into thinking they're better, or safer.

"I'm glad you're here," I manage to say, because it's the truth. "But you can't stay."

"Then come with me. We can leave. Go somewhere they won't find us."

It's almost tempting.

Almost.

"There's nowhere they won't find me."

They'll look to the ends of this world and the next. I am the child of their high queen. A threat. Any children I might have one day are equally dangerous, because of the power they hold over all of this world.

Every lord sitting on a fairy throne is bound to my bloodline, sworn to obey whoever sits on the high queen's throne.

I don't say any of that to Rachel. She's scared enough as it is.

"I have to stay and control those monsters. But you…you can go. With protection. You can't return home," I tell her regretfully.

I don't even think she'd want to, would she? Her fiancé is dead. Our parents are dead.

"But you can have a life. Be an accountant, go to book clubs, join a gym."

I'll have to hide her. Give her a guard. Someone I can trust. Caenan, maybe.

"Rina?" she says. "I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you alone. And you can't tell me I'll be safe. Not after they found me, and our parents. Not after what I saw them do to Ben. It was so fast. So easy."

I sigh. I should have seen this coming. She's as stubborn as I am.

"We'll talk later."

That's as close to an agreement as she's going to get on this. She can't stay forever. But a day or two can't hurt, right?

I ignore the little voice at the back of my mind telling me I only spent five days here.

And that was enough to kill me.

“There’s one thing we need to do first.”

And no one will dare argue she has every right to be there for that.

I sit up and make myself stand. When my feet reach the cool stone floor, I feel a soft brush of fur against my skin and smile. The nixie’s right here, by my feet, sleeping like a gigantic house cat.

I wonder whether I should feed it. Brush it. And I dread to think about the size of an appropriate litter box.

The feline lifts his head, giving me one look of pure contempt. I swear I understand her perfectly. Dream on, fairy toothpick.

I grin, grateful for the metal interruption. But my sister soon brings me back to reality. “What do we need to do?”

Fuck. No wonder my attention deficit took a detour away from this fact. “Bury our parents.”