My mother walks into a bathroom, and I clamor inside, the door catching my elbow. She turns, confusion lining her face, and I drop my magic, shutting the door behind us.
“Who are you?” she asks, tone hostile and sharp.
“You don’t recognize me?”
Her composure cracks like struck glass. Tears shine in her eyes as she searches my face, as if it will reveal everything I’ve been through without her. Her lower lip trembles. “Rune?”
“Mom.” I throw myself into her arms and she clings to me, one hand clasped around my shoulders, the other bracing against the back of my head. Her arms shake as she holds me and I grip right back, tears rising and overflowing, seeping into her silken dress, ruining it.
“What are you doing here? You can’t be here.” Her voice chokes on grief.
“I’m looking for you.” I search her face, but she’s staring at my ears. Soon her fingers trace the tips of them, taking in the brightness of my eyes, then the points of my canines. They aren’t extended but they’re a little sharper than when I was merely human.
“What have they done to you?” She fights the tears, refusing to let them spill over, though she attempts to smile. “My baby.”
My hands grasp her roving ones, stopping her. “I’m a druid changeling now.” I try to wrestle my own tears back. “But Mom, I’m okay. Are you?” My hands find the cuffs at her wrist.
“I … it’s better than it was at first,” she says.
My fury burns through me, but I fight it back, not letting it control this moment. There’s too much else that needs releasing. “The lord here isn’t terrible. He has no interest in me beyond my songs.”
“I’m here to get you out, Mom. We don’t have much time.” I look hurriedly over my shoulder. A pressure buffers against my mind. Draven, searching for me. But I don’t want this moment interrupted, so I ignore him a little longer.
“I can’t. My enslavement binds me to the house. I can’t step ten paces from the door even if it burns to the ground. Not without his permission.” She strokes my hair back, a brave smile on her face. Her eyes shimmer, tears flickering in the light. “The king would never allow him to let me go. I’ve seen his court. I know too much and was forbidden to speak about it. You should return to your new kingdom, before they know you’re gone.”
No.“There has to be a way.” I feel foolish standing here. We should be running.
“Rune, my darling, you have to go.” How can she be so calm? How can she accept it so easily?
“But Mom, no—there’s more … I’ve seen Dad.”
She stills. “When did you see your father? Was he placed with the druids after the Selection?” Her hands stop stroking my hair, settling on my face.
“No, he’s the advisor to King Altair of the seraphs—”
“He’s what?” She sounds angry, not concerned, and her face heats.
“I don’t know how it happened. Have you seen Remus? Dad said he’s seen him.”
“No, I haven’t,” she breathes, shoulders sagging with relief. She swallows. “I tried to find him but … I assumed he was adopted by a family here.”
“Draven’s searching for records on elven changelings—”
“Draven? As in the Crowned Prince of Sedah? The Blood Prince? The World Chosen? He’s helping you?”
What is with immortals and their grandiose titles? “He’s … we’re …” Her expression hardens and there’s no approval there as I force out, “We’re close.”
“Gods, Rune.” She looks me up and down in disappointment. Her gaze is wild and livid as she hisses, “You cannot trust him.”
My fists clench, knuckles whitening, defenses rising.
“He is the only one who’s tried to keep me safe since you were taken.” She has no idea what I’ve been through, none. Draven’s the only one who has given two shits about me sincebeforeshe was taken, if I’m being honest. The pain of those thoughts chokes me like weeds strangling a rose.
She shakes her head as if she doesn’t have time to explain her loathing of a prince she’s never met, as if there are more pressing matters. “And you’re sure your father is the royal advisor of the seraph king?” She doesn’t look impressed, only terrified.
“Yes. He tried to get me back. Convinced King Altair and King Silas to barter but when the seraph king questioned me—”
“Tell me he did not ask about me.”
