Her father’s voice was steady, but there was gravity behind it. “Your mother wanted a family. Without the ability to fully awaken her Fae gift, to cross into other realms, to undergo the Claiming, she was destined for an early death, just like those before her. Just like your grandmother. But she wanted to live long enough to get to know you, Ellandria. So we searched far and wide, across all four kingdoms, desperate for an answer. For scraps of knowledge that had not been sealed or destroyed when the Fae were exiled.” Her father brushed his hand across his forehead, where beads of sweat had begun to form.
“We found it in the most unlikely place—Dravaryn—lying deep within our enemy kingdom. There we met an even more unlikely, yet thank the gods, willing, person to help us. A healer. Quirky. Unpredictable. I believe you have come to trust and care about him yourself.”
Ella froze. “Bryn?”
“Bryn,” Eryndor confirmed. His mouth twisted. “Don’t get me started on his ancestry. One revelation is enough for today.”
Her jaw clenched until it ached. She stared at the polished floor until her vision blurred. “I knew there was more to the mischief in his eyes,” she whispered, voice thick with disbelief. “He stood at my side, took care of me, bled with me, laughed with me…and the whole time he was helping keep this secret? Helping her hide it?” She bit off the rest, nails digging into her palms until they stung.
Eryndor’s tone softened. “He swore to protect your mother. Protecting her meant keeping you from the truth. He did it to help us. Saving many others in the process.”
Her voice was filled with hurt and betrayal. “I trusted him.”
“So did we. I still do,” her father said quietly.
He let the silence hold for a moment, then went on. “When you were Claimed, the current returned. To you. To your bloodline. We felt it here even before word reached us. Your mother felt it most. The seal we had kept on her failed, and once your true power woke, hers stirred. She began to decline almost at once.”
Ella’s throat burned as if she’d swallowed glass. “So my Claiming killed her.”
“No.” Eryndor’s answer was firm. “Your Claiming freed what could not be bound forever. The Veil would have burst one day with or without you. Your mother knew this. She chose the path that gave you life and gave the rest of the realm centuries.”
“Don’t dress it up.” Ella’s voice snapped like a whip. “If I hadn’t gone through the Claiming, she might’ve had more time.”
His eyes closed for a beat. “Months, perhaps. But never years. She would have chosen the same outcome again and again. What you did saved more than just the mortal realm, Ella. And it wouldn’t have been possible. Without your Claiming, you wouldn’t have survived.”
Ella pushed herself to her feet to head for the doors, but the room tilted and spun. She caught herself on the rail, thenforced her way down to the lowest step. Her knees buckled, so she sat hard, pressing her thumb into the marble until the sting anchored her.
Her father followed and lowered himself beside her. He put his arm around her shoulders, and this time she didn’t shake it off.
He inhaled a long, slow breath, then said, “There is more you need to hear. Not all the magic in you answers Orchid soil. Some of it ignores the natural order, crosses borders.”
Ella gave a harsh, bitter laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“Then you know this too,” he said. “You need to be careful who you trust; you have an entire kingdom looking to you for protection now. And there are others in the mortal realm who possess powers not born of this soil.”
Her head snapped toward him.
Ella only stared. Then the words left her mouth at the exact time the thought formed. “Fuck. Jakobav’s bloodline is part-Fae.” The words tasted wrong in her mouth. She leaned forward, pressing her palms flat to her knees. “Does he know? Has he been hiding it from me this whole time?”
“I cannot answer that,” her father said. “Dravaryn guards its blood histories as tightly as its borders. What I do know is this.” Eryndor rose off the bottom step and started pacing, as if worried about how she would take what he was going to say next, making Ella’s stomach drop.
“Jakobav carries Fae blood; his Blood-Scenting ability is not mortal, nor is it from Dravaryn soil. It is a Fae inheritance, one passed down for generations. His grandfather had it. His father had it. He has it.”
Ella thought she might be about to get sick. Jake hadn’t told her that.
Does he know I’m part-Fae? Is that why he pulled me into his fucking Claiming?
A tight wave of dizziness hit her, thank the gods she was already sitting. Her pulse stuttered, hard and uneven. Was this why he’d left so quickly? Did he somehow know what her father was going to tell her? She had half a mind to grab a horse and chase him down herself just to drag the truth out of him.
But her father continued on as if he had to get it all out before he lost his nerve.
“They kept performing Claimings even after the realms were sealed. Half of their mortals who attempted it died. But they kept doing it anyway. I will say this; it weeded out the weak and left only the most powerful standing, leading to a fearsome military force. Now you know why your mother and I worked tirelessly toward maintaining the peace. Starting another war would not end well for any kingdom beside Dravaryn.”
Ella let out a dry, scornful sound. “So the honorable Rite they value so highly is a fucking gamble, a deadly game, one where those playing aren’t even fully informed of the rules?”
“They would not call it that,” he said. “They view it as an honor to be claimed and bestowed with ancient gifts. And before you ask, I doubt Jakobav knows the full cost. Secrets that size stay locked above a prince as long as a king can hold them.”
Eryndor’s voice dropped, steady but grim. “There is more. The King of Dravaryn can’t survive without using his Blood-Scent magic, just as your mother couldn’t survive without using her Fae ability. But the difference is this: Blood-Scent magic may work on mortals, but it requires Fae blood from a bloodline not their own. He can manage for some time without, but eventually the price must be paid. Even a small amount of Fae blood sustains the king when his own strength fails.”
