Ella jerked upright. “What?” The word snapped out, loud and flat.
“I need to ask you questions, and I need the truth. Did Jakobav ever ask for your blood?”
“No.”
“Did he ever drink from you?”
Her head whipped toward him. “Absolutely not.”
The lie slipped out before she could stop it.
Though it wasn’t entirely a lie. Jakobav had tasted a drop a few times, yes, but he had never fully drunk her blood—not that she was aware of. Her father had seen Jake take a drop of Caelen’s blood from his blade, and he’d watched him take a drop from Thane to wield his wind magic. It dawned on her then that when Jake had licked the blood tear from her face as she was losing the battle, it must have looked like nothing more than a final kiss goodbye.
“Good. Do you have any reason to believe he might have taken blood from you to give to his father?”
Her jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “If someone touched me like that, I would know. So no.”
He studied her face, then nodded once. “Did you ever meet the king in private?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else from Dravaryn take your blood for any reason?”
Her stomach churned. “Bryn took a sample for healing, with my permission, but that’s it.”
“Then we must keep our guard high,” her father said. “If the king has gone too long without Fae blood, then someone near him is surely looking for it.”
Ella barked out a scoff. This was unbelievable; her anger started to rise, suspicions climbing along with it. “And you think that someone would use me if they were to find out my lineage?”
“I think power creates need,” he said, “and need breeds ugly choices.” He exhaled. “There’s more I could say—mostly rumors not yet confirmed. When I know the truth, you’ll hear it from me first.”
Ella shoved herself upright. Heat rushed her face and drained just as quickly, leaving her skin cold. She somehow remained standing and started pacing as she dragged her hands down her face. Her voice was rough, low. “Why would Bryn help the king and queen of Orchid at all? He’s loyal to Jakobav and his kingdom. I’ve seen it.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “Bryn worships survival. He cares for Dravaryn, yes, but he also cared about keeping the mortal realm intact. When we asked him, all those years ago, why he would agree to help us, he said it was the key to keeping the world from breaking. I think both can be true, Ellandria.”
“It sounds like you’re asking me to forgive him. Maybe Bryn didn’t lie directly, considering he almost always speaks in riddles, but there’s some shit he left out.”
“I am asking you to see the board before you move a piece.”
Her gaze dropped to her wrist. She turned it so the inside caught the light, the skin pale around the black rose mark. “So if all of this was caused by my Claiming…and if I’m to believe that I’m part-Fae, then explain to me why I was marked with this.” She thrust it toward him. “The Dravaryn rose. Why did the High Vexari grab me during the Rite, and why did she look at it like she wanted to tear my skin off? She went from curious to enraged in a blink. Tell me what that means.”
Her father leaned forward. His eyes fixed on the mark, and his face changed.
“She touched you?” he asked, voice gone hard.
Ella barked out a laugh. “Touched me? She dug her nails in. She was not gentle.”
His shoulders stiffened. “Then she suspects what you are. Or she already knew and wanted proof.”
Ella’s mouth twisted. “So the High Vexari of Dravaryn has a personal interest in my bloodline? Fantastic.”
“You will not be alone with her again,” her father said.
Ella’s head tipped back, a harsh laugh echoing up into the rafters. “No argument from me there. She was godsdamned terrifying.”
Eryndor exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on her as if he could see the implications of everything he’d just told her settling on her shoulders. “There is one last thing you need to understand. The moment you first Threadwalked, we felt it here in Orchid. We knew you were alive and moving somewhere in the mortal realm. It was like a flare shot into the dark. From that moment on, there was no doubt. You weren’t just surviving. You were awakening.”
Ella’s stomach twisted. She pressed her nails into her palm until her skin stung. “And no one thought to get a message to me? Give me some sort of heads up about my own bloodline or my own gift stirring beneath my own skin?”
