Her face pales. “Yesterday, Henry Duveau paid me a visit.”
“What is the significance of Mr. Duveau?”
“He’s the descendant of the original councilman who exiled my father. I take it by now you know about the fae Bonding ritual?”
“I have some firsthand experience.” I ignore the crushing pain in my chest at the confession.
“The councilman who exiled my father did so with the power of the Bond, but it wasn’t just a regular Bond between them. It was a Legacy Bond, meaning it’s passed on by bloodline instead of ending with the death of the bargainers. My father’s Bond was extended to me, and I have passed it on to you and Amelie. Likewise, the original councilman passed it down through his family. Ever since the end of the war, Eisleigh’s council always reserves a seat for a man of the councilman’s blood. That’s their guarantee against any of my father’s descendants breaking the treaty with their return. All Mr. Duveau has to do is use my name—all our names—and we will be forced to obey our exile.”
“So that’s who Mr. Duveau is.”
“Yes. He has the power of my name and can use it against me. He did just that when the mayor brought him to my cell yesterday. With the power of my name, he commanded me to take his knife and cut myself. I did. They watched me bleed. Then they witnessed my skin heal right before their eyes.”
My shoulders slump, and I feel that chasm of sorrow widen, feel myself slipping into it. It’s over. All of it. The council has irrefutable proof. Her trial will be nothing more than a farce. A mercy.
“There’s no hope,” I whisper.
Mother gives me a sad smile. “Not for me, no. But there may be hope for you.”
10
“What do you mean, there’s hope for me?” I search my mother’s face for understanding. “There’s nothing we can say to aid our case. We’re going to be exiled.”
She leans closer to the bars, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Not if you run.”
My stomach takes a dive. “I’m not going to do that, Mother. If Amelie and I don’t present ourselves at your trial, they are going to execute you.”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Her eyes well with tears, but they crinkle at the edges as she forces a smile. “Everything I’ve done since you girls were born was to give you the best possible life. I’ll gladly give mine if it means you get to live.”
“Don’t say that.” My voice is a furious whisper. “You aren’t giving your life for us, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. Sure, it may be unfair that we’re being punished for the crimes of our ancestor, but the law is the law. At least this way all three of us keep our lives. We’ll be exiled, but we’ll be together. We can live out the remainder of our days in peace. No compromising the treaty. No hiding from fae who feel threatened by us.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re giving up by leaving the isle. Life on the mainland is but a half-life for those with fae blood.”
“But it’s worth living. You said so yourself; you were willing to stay before we were born. And your father was given a merciful punishment by being allowed to live a mortal life with his loved ones. I’m willing to do the same.” Despite my optimistic words, my throat constricts at the bitter taste of them. Deep down, a spark of rage threatens to ignite.
“You deserve so much more. You deserve to live a long life, to thrive on your own magic—”
“What magic, Mother?” I say with a glare. My anger burns brighter. Even though I know it’s misdirected, it feels better than sorrow. My hands ball into fists. “Magic is nothing but trouble. Up until now, I lived without magic just fine. I was happy before I went to Faerwyvae. Amelie was happy. You were happy. I was going to go to medical school, and I would have if not for the idiotic Reaping. If not for a chance encounter while making a pointless offering at the wall.”
Angry tears spring to my eyes as memories of that first time I met Aspen swim through my mind. I have yet to confess to Mother or Amelie that meeting him is what prompted all of this. My rage grows and grows, boiling inside me like a kettle ready to howl. I rise to my feet, gripping the bars of her cell.
“Evelyn—”
“It’s my fault.” The words burst from between my teeth and through my lips, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “It’s my fault for speaking to Aspen at the wall the night before the Reaping. And it’s his fault for choosing me after he killed the Holstrom girls. It’s your fault for endangering the treaty by bringing us here. And it’s your father’s fault for burning a village, and the villagers’ fault for executing his lover. It’s Queen Nessina’s fault for spiriting your mother away and telling no one. It’s everyone’s fault including my own and it makes me so furious I feel like I’m going to explode.”
Heat radiates from my core, down my arms, and into my palms. I let out a shout of frustration, and with it comes a flash of light followed by molten heat beneath my fingers. I spring away from the bars, my fury evaporating into shock as I stare at the glowing metal where my hands just were. In their place are two bright orange prints, as if the bars were partially melted by my hands.
Mother stands, eyes wide as she watches the glow slowly begin to cool.
“What was that?” I manage to gasp.
“Your magic.Ourmagic.”
I grip my stomach, nausea turning inside me as I stare at the bars even after the glow dissipates. Then I return my attention to my mother. “How did I do that?”
