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M aybe it shouldn’t have surprised Cora that Mareleau could use magic. She’d entertained the idea that Helena might be clairaudient. Why did it send such a chill down her spine to consider Mareleau might be a witch too?

Another heavy feeling settled in her stomach, but this one was sharper than the one that said truth . It said pay attention .

She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to pay attention to, but she realized she was doing the opposite when Mareleau asked, “Were you listening?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Cora shook the thoughts from her head and gave her friend an apologetic smile.

“I said, I’d like to name you Noah’s godmother.”

Something soft melted in Cora’s heart. “You want me to be his godmother?”

“I do.” Mareleau’s expression turned hesitant. “Is that all right? Do you want that? Or is that incredibly rude of me to even ask, considering your?—”

“It’s lovely,” Cora cut in before Mareleau could mention her curse again. “I’d be honored to be Noah’s godmother.”

“You know,” Mareleau said, drawing the words out slowly, “you could name him your heir.” When Cora didn’t reply, she rushed to add, “Temporarily if you wanted. Your husband’s nephew would make a suitable heir, don’t you think?”

Cora glanced down at the sleeping babe. Son of her friend. Nephew of the man she loved. She supposed he would make for a worthy heir. Yet, as the first son of Mareleau and Larylis, he was already heir to Vera. Did that mean…

She shifted her gaze back to her friend, who seemed to already know what was on her mind.

“I promise, I’m not saying this because I want Noah to inherit your kingdom. I don’t share my father’s obsession with legacy. All I’m saying is that naming him your heir for now could secure Khero’s standing even more than your marriage to Teryn will.”

Cora huffed a laugh. “When did you become such a persuasive politician?”

“Probably when I was forced to become the queen of two kingdoms before I’d even gotten used to reigning over one.”

“Well, you make quite a convincing case.”

“Then I’ll add one more thing. Merging Menah and Selay into Vera has been beneficial for our kingdoms. Uniting our resources, pooling our assets…I’ve seen nothing but good come of this. Our kingdoms were small, so merging the two hasn’t stretched us thin or made it difficult to serve our people. So if you ended up…you know, keeping Noah as your heir, and Khero merged with Vera at the end of your reign…” Her expression turned hesitant again. “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Cora pondered her words. While a stubborn, prideful part of her rebelled at the thought of turning her crown over to someone else—someone not of her blood, her family—she recognized this as only a small part of her. The greater part saw wisdom in Mareleau’s words. If the curse Morkai placed on Cora never lifted, if she lived the rest of her life without ever bearing her own heirs, Mareleau’s suggestion could be the solution she’d been looking for all along. She’d never been overly fond of bloodline politics in the first place, and what she really cared about was the safety of her kingdom. She cared that her people thrived, both during and after her rule. Handing her crown to Noah, to Cora’s newly named godson, to a child who might very well come to feel like family soon…

“You’re right,” Cora said. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“See? I knew it was a good idea.” Mareleau’s expression turned thoughtful. “Three kingdoms united. I wonder why they ever divided Lela in the first place.”

A shudder ripped through Cora. Was it relief over having a possible heir? In answer, that earlier feeling returned, sharpening in her gut. Pay attention .

To what? Cora wondered.

Then Mareleau’s words echoed in her mind, unraveling something…

Something about three kingdoms…

No, three crowns…

And Lela…

He will unite three crowns and return El’Ara’s heart .

Cora nearly choked on a sharp intake of breath as the words of Emylia’s prophecy invaded her consciousness. Teryn had conveyed everything he’d learned, and she’d done the same with what she’d discovered in El’Ara. Together, in the letters they’d exchanged, they’d merged their knowledge. Even though Cora’s place in the prophecy had been thwarted, they’d figured the information might prove useful in dealing with Darius. In understanding him, predicting his aims. Not that it had helped them yet.

So why was this piece of the broken prophecy striking her so fiercely right now? Was she merely being reminded of what might have been? What could have been, were she in Mareleau’s place? The promised Morkara in Cora’s arms, instead of Noah in Mareleau’s?

Or…

Could it be…

Blood of the witch, blood of the Elvyn, and blood of the crown .

Cora stared at Mareleau, assessing her under a chilling new light. After witnessing the glamour Mareleau had cast, she could believe Mareleau was a witch. But did she have Elvyn blood? Cora had never been able to answer that question for herself, ever since she’d learned of this part of the prophecy.

The Elvyn had died long ago. Now that Cora knew of El’Ara’s history, she understood that the only fae who had ever lived in Lela were those who’d been trapped outside the Veil. While the Faeryn descendants lived on as the Forest People, there were no records of any Elvyn bloodlines that remained. No way to know if Cora had Elvyn blood in her family tree. Her mother was from the Southern Islands, and the only Elvyn there was Darius. Cora didn’t want to consider any blood relation to him. Besides, wouldn’t Morkai have known if they were so closely related? Furthermore, it wasn’t just any Elvyn blood that qualified the prophesied mother. It was Ailan’s blood. While Darius and Ailan shared their mother’s blood, a descendant of Darius would not be the Blood of Ailan.

That left Cora’s father. His ancestry was local to the continent of Risa, so he could have been a descendant of Ailan.

But the same could be said for Mareleau.

When will she be born?

The year of the Great Bear .

Mother Goddess, Cora and Mareleau were the same age. They’d been born the same year. Yet the prophesied mother was supposed to have been born in Khero?—

No.

Not the mother.

The true Morkara is the Blood of Ailan, born under the black mountain .

Born under , not to . Cora pulled back from her friend slightly, heart racing. Mareleau was so enchanted by her sleeping son, whose tiny hand was now curled around her forefinger, that she didn’t notice Cora’s startled scrutiny. Cora’s gaze lifted to the walls, to the purple tapestries lining them, boasting Khero’s sigil.

A black mountain over a field of violets .

Cora’s breaths grew sharp. Could…Mareleau be the mother? Not Cora? Could Noah be the true Morkara?

There was still one final piece of the prophecy. The line that had been the most convincing of all, proving Cora was the prophesied mother.

The unicorn will signify her awakening .

The unicorn. Valorre. Cora’s familiar. After he’d come into her life, everything had changed. She’d awakened to truths she’d never known were missing. Her magic had grown tenfold.

At the thought of him, he entered her consciousness.

You’re distressed , he said.

Distress. Was that what she was feeling? She wasn’t sure what to call it, the tremor that had taken over, the thundering of her heart, the tightness in her chest. Perhaps distress was the right word for it, but she was more desperate than anything. Desperate for the truth. For the final piece of the puzzle to click into place, either confirming or dismissing her suspicions.

Valorre , she conveyed, when we were in El’Ara, you remembered some things. You said you recalled running from dragons ? —

I remember everything. Cora felt his surprise as if it were her own. I…I remember it all now.

The dragons chased you from El’Ara. Through the Veil.

Yes, they knew my horn would let me leave.

Why did they chase you?

They…they felt her.

Cora swallowed hard. He’d said her not you .

Who did they feel? she asked.

The Blood of Ailan. They felt her mora.

Magic. They felt the prophesied mother’s magic.

“Mare,” she said, turning to her friend. Cora could feel the quaver in her voice, but Mareleau didn’t seem to notice. She merely cast a questioning glance at her. Cora worked the dryness from her throat before she spoke again. “When did you start using your magic trick?”

Mareleau shrugged. “I’ve always used it in some form or another. It serves as a sort of protection. A way for me to feel like I’m someone else on the outside.”

“Was there ever a time when you felt like…like people started reacting to your magic trick?”

“The suitors I got rid of certainly reacted strongly,” she said with a wry grin.

“When was that? When did you first drive away an unwanted suitor with this trick?”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “About a year ago? No, a little longer than that. Maybe a year-and-a-half ago?”

Cora’s heart fell. A year-and-a-half ago. When the first unicorn was spotted in the human world.

Mareleau frowned. “Why do you ask?”

Cora couldn’t answer. She couldn’t form a single word, and thankfully she was saved from needing to as Mareleau’s door opened. Larylis and Helena rushed inside. Cora felt detached from her body as she slid from the bed, allowing Larylis to take her place and meet his son for the first time. She wanted to be moved by the tears in Larylis’ eyes, by the joy in her friend’s face, but she felt none of that. Felt nothing and everything at once as she excused herself and left the room.

Her lungs constricted as she swept from the suite and into the hall. The corridor was blessedly empty, so she let herself lean against the wall, let herself gather in lungfuls of air even as her chest continued to tighten. She tried to root her feet to the floor, to connect with the steadying earth energy, but her mind spun too fast, her thoughts and heart in disharmony as both fought for an anchor.

Mother Goddess, why did she feel this way? Why did she feel like her world had just been upended? Surely this wasn’t the right response. Yet she couldn’t name her emotions at all.

Was this simply the shock of discovering the prophecy remained?

No, this was more than that.

It was never me , she said to herself.

She waited for relief to follow. Relief was what she should feel. That was what her frail hold on logic told her, anyway. She’d never wanted to be the central figure in some ancient prophecy meant to save a people who didn’t even care for her. She didn’t want to save or condemn El’Ara. She didn’t want any of this. Shouldn’t she be glad the burden was no longer hers to bear?

Yet that…

That was the source of her unnamed emotions.

The burden wasn’t hers to bear.

It never had been.

But she had already borne the brunt of it. She’d been targeted by a blood mage. Cursed by dark magic. Her childhood destroyed. Her future tampered with.

She’d.

Already.

Suffered.

She named it then, that dark and swirling vortex of emotion that tore through her, growing, releasing, spilling from her eyes in the form of tears.

It was rage.

Rage.

Violent and bottomless, so vast she wanted to scream.

“It was never me,” she said through her teeth. A strangled sob caught her voice, and she dropped her face to her hands, her fingers curled, digging into her skin. “It was never meant to be me.”

All she heard were her sobs. All she felt were the trails of her tears, the heaving of her shoulders.

Then strong arms folded around her, bringing with them the scent of soap and pine. And a voice, deep and mellow, whispering her name, weaving through the chaos of her rage. It was Teryn. Her anchor. She melted into his arms and buried her face in his chest. She cried, screamed, and shouted until the anger left her breath.

Until her fury got its fill.