“Nothing a wedding between a prince and a princess won’t smooth over, I’m sure.” Cathair’s canny hazel eyes fixed me over the rim of his cup. “Is that something we can still expect?”
“A princess may return.” I made my voice expressionless. “I may not.”
“Hmm.” Cathair’s fingers tapped his glass. “I’m sorry the queen was not here to greet you. I have sent one of my birds to tell her of your visit, but I imagine it will be a week or so before she returns. You are welcome to wait, although we are on short rations until Eòdan surrenders. Or you can tell me what you came for, and I will pass along the message.”
“I’m not here to speak to Mother.” I was, of course. There was so much I wanted to ask her. I wanted to ask whether she’d known her husband had seduced and kidnapped a Gentry tánaiste for the power of her Treasure. I wanted to ask whether she’d betrothed her infant daughter four times over for the power and influence it bought her. And most of all, I wanted to ask whether her love for me had been nothing more than a ruse. A manipulation. But in truth, I’d begun to think the main reason I’d come to Rath na Mara was to speak to the serpent of a man sitting in front of me. Of all the wounds I’d borne, his had scarred the ugliest. “I’m here to speak to you.”
Surprise flitted across Cathair’s face. “Then speak, little witch. You have my full attention.”
An hour before, my list of accusations had been a league long. Now, standing before the man who’d tormented, exploited, andabused me, I could barely find the words to tell him how much I resented him. How much his teachings had hurt me. How his influence had shaped me into a person I’d loathed for too long.
“I despise you for what you did to me.” My voice didn’t shake, and I was grateful for it.
“Yes.” Was that regret behind his eyes? “I know.”
“Is that all you have to say?” Reflexively, I reached for my wrist, a habit I thought I’d broken. Cathair noticed the gesture, as well as the way I forced my arm back to my side. “You drowned me. Burned me. Cut me. Poisoned me. You made me do unspeakable things to helpless creatures. You filled me up with stories about the heroism of humans and the villainy of the Folk. You took away the parts of me I loved most and replaced them with things I hated. You made me into a weapon, when I was born to be—”
My words failed me. Born to bewhat? I was only beginning to understand what Iwasn’t. I still had no idea what Iwas. I wasn’t sure I’d ever understand.
Cathair surged out of his chair. He refilled his jeweled cup, then sloshed wine into a matching one. He pushed it toward me. I didn’t move to take it.
“Mothers love their children.” His voice was flat. “Fathers make them strong.”
Revulsion nearly knocked me over. “You are nofatherto me. And never have been.”
“You misunderstand me, little witch.” His hazel eyes lifted to mine. If I expected them to be full of cruelty, I was disappointed. They were hollow as an empty grave. “Those are not my words. They werehers, a long, long time ago.”
The thorns climbing my throat choked me.
“I grew up with Eithne—did you know that?” Cathair leaned against the sideboard. “My father was druid to her father, the late under-king of Delbhna. We were the same age, and there was a time when she and I were inseparable. And she was—” His eyes flew far away, to a past I could hardly imagine. “She was lightnesspersonified. When she laughed, it was like the clouds dispersed, and you could see the sun. She was exquisite.”
“That’s a poetic way of saying you lusted after her.”
Cathair didn’t react to my jibe. “We were not made for each other. In time, she was wed to another and grew to love him. I was happy for her. But after Rían was slain by the Folk, Eithne changed. Before, she had been a coddled princess without a care in the world. After, she became aqueen. All her fear and grief and helplessness transformed into something new. Something with sharp teeth and armored scales and venom. Something that slithered dark as a shadow into her heart. Something named hatred. Something that demanded vengeance.”
“I know how the Gate War began. What’s your point?”
“Sometimes it seems like mothers and daughters are a wheel that cannot stop turning, rolling through the same insidious cycles.” Cathair stared into his goblet. “Eithne had been sold like chattel for peace between warring realms. Eala had barely been born before her mother did the same to her. But Eala was no Eithne. Oh, she was equally exquisite. But only in looks. It was as if the death and darkness that poisoned Eithne had tainted the child in her womb, extinguishing the lightness of spirit before it had even been ignited. Even as a little girl, Eala was cold, cunning, and devious. The harder the queen tried to bring her to heel, the harder she rebelled. The queen fought two wars. One with the Folk. The other at home. Eithne wished to forge Eala into her own image. Eala felt each blow of the hammer and hated her mother for it.”
I tasted dirt in the back of my throat. Eala hadn’t lied to me abouteverything, then.
“And then you came.” Cathair nodded at me. “And although you were the same age as Eala, you were almost like a baby. You were a blank slate. You had no memories, no expectations, no notion of how you ought to act or be treated. You only wanted to be loved. At first, Eithne loathed the sight of you. But then a strange spark of hope struck off the anvil of her keen mind. Shewondered whether the Folk had made a mistake in leaving one of their own with her. They might have stolen Eithne’s shrewd and crafty daughter. But in her place they had given the queen a second chance at forging a weapon to destroy them.”
I digested this, tasting each bitter word, each noxious divulgence. “But she didn’t forge me—youdid.”
“Eithne has always known when to learn from her mistakes.” Rancor twisted Cathair’s mouth. “Do you think I relished tormenting a child? Do you think I was gratified to watch the same lightness I’d seen disappear from Eithne’s eyes extinguish in yours? Do you think it brought me joy to sharpen you with malice, harden you with hatred, poison you with someone else’s vengeance?” The look he gave me was shriveled with remorse. “It did not.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because I love her. Because I have always loved her.”
“Do you think that excuses what you did?” Now my voice shook. “You did it for love—she did it for hatred. Between the two, you turned me into something I was never meant to be. Idespiseyou for it.”
“I believe you. If it helps, little witch, you will never hate me more than I hate myself.”
Something sticky and cold as sap slid down my spine. Had this been what I wanted when I came here? To hear him tell me he regretted what he’d done to me? To feel pity for a man who’d allowed his love to destroy his morality? To see my own self-loathing reflected in his eyes? I shook my head and turned on my heel. I was nearly to the door when Cathair’s voice reached out.
“You have changed, little witch.” I stopped but didn’t turn. “I believed what we did to you put your light out completely. But something has reignited it. Or, perhaps, someone?”
