“What does Black Ember want to trade me for?”
Jack raised a shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure. Something to do with the decree about the Gifted Realm. There’s no way Severn will agree to uncloak the Realm—he doesn’t even have the power to do that. There are other fae courts throughout the world, not to mention the other species in the hidden realm: the werewolves, demons, sprites. The witches have a say, too. If I had to guess, I’d say Black Ember wants Severn to agree to not object to his efforts. Severn is a powerful voice in the Realm; if he supports or at least doesn’t object to exposing it, that will go a long way toward swaying the others.”
Nervousness made me lose my appetite. “And what happens if all the fae courts and other species agree to reveal their existence?”
Jack swallowed dryly before answering, “Chaos, probably. You can imagine, suddenly humans are aware there are magical beings in their midst? Horned demons, winged sprites? Werewolves?” He shook his head. “It’s a bad idea if you ask me. People aren’t ready for the truth.”
“But they used to be, right? Humans used to know about them.”
“Yeah, almost a thousand years ago. And there was a reason the Gifted Ones decided to hide. It was the only way to survive. But times have changed. Some fae, like Black Ember, think humans are weak enough now for them to reassume their power overtly instead of operating behind the scenes.”
“What would you do if there was a vote?”
“As a human, I wouldn’t get a say. But as head of one of the most powerful werewolf packs, I’d tell my followers to vote to remain hidden. I don’t think humans are ready. Not now.” He glanced outside, looking troubled. “In a few hundred years, maybe.” At my worried look, he rested a reassuring hand over mine. “Listen, Severn isn’t leaving here without you. I can promise that. I see how that fae loves you.”
I smiled softly at the reassurance, then cleared my throat. “You said you have information about my mother.”
He nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Then he took a deep breath. “Are you sure you want to know?”
A chill filled me, but I nodded.
He pushed back in the chair and went to the windows, looking out over the valley. “I made a few calls. Had to bargain with some witches and a particularly grumpy demon in San Diego. The truth is, Willow, I’m not sure your mother is dead.”
My spine went rigid. “What do you mean?”
He pulled out his phone, scrolled through some photos, and showed me one. “The demon sent me this. Taken just two years ago.”
The photo was of a woman in her late forties with a severe kind of beauty. A very thin face, dark eyes, hair streaked with gray falling to her waist.
She was older, of course—but it was my mother.
My lips fell open as I grabbed the phone. “This is her!”
But Jack seemed uneasy as he gazed down at the photo. “Are you sure? The woman in this picture is a fae called Leona. She’s rogue now, but years ago, she was part of the White Sand Court in the southwest.”
“My mother?A fae?”
There was something odd about the woman in the picture—while she had my mother’s features, there was a sharpness behind her eyes and an aura around her that didn’t fit with my scatterbrained, warm-hearted mother at all.
“I’m not sure this womanisactually your mother,” Jack said.
“Then who is she? How can she look identical?” I recalled him saying something back in LA about twins being nothing but trouble. But how could my human mother have a fae twin?
He took the phone back and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. “Honestly, I don’t know. Strange things happen in the Gifted Realm.”
“Find out more, Jack,” I begged. “I want to meet her. This Leona. Can you set up a meeting?”
He folded his arms across his vest. “Listen, Willow, you aren’t exactly in a position to be making demands. We’re even now, that’s what you said.” He went to the door but paused before leaving. “If I find out anything else, I’ll get the information to you. But this woman, Willow—she’s rumored to be very dangerous. Be careful.” He closed the door behind him.
Once more, I was alone in my beautiful prison. I looked back at my illustration of the mountains, at the swirls of magic I had added hovering over the river. My mother’s faerie tales inspired my artwork—but what if they weren’t just stories?
“Mom,” I whispered aloud to no one. “What happened to you?”
I passed a sleepless night tossing and turning, locked in the guest room with no word from Severn or update on how the negotiations were going. I must have fallen asleep at some point because hazy dreams worked their way into my head.
A face—Ember’sface.
A beauty that rivaled the night sky, gray eyes simmering like embers, only now the face wasn’t foreign at all. Black Ember had worked his way into my dreams in a way that felt uncanny, like a supernatural form of communication. When I finally woke with a jolt in the morning, listening to someone knocking hard on my door, I found sweat dripping down my temples, an urgent, throbbing need between my legs. I’d never woken up feeling so aroused before, and I felt shocked and guilty that I hadn’t been dreaming ofSevern.
