Daring neither to get too close nor pull away too far, he settled for kneeling before the chair, his hand softly covering hers. “Cora,” he whispered, eyes searching her dark, empty irises. “What happened?”
She said nothing for several long moments, but that was better than her asking him to leave. Finally, her gaze sharpened and focused on Teryn. Her lower lip quivered, sending a spear of pain through his chest.
“I’m not…” She cleared her throat, blinked away fresh tears, and tried again. “I’m not the mother from Emylia’s prophecy.”
Silence.
Such agonizing silence.
But he didn’t dare speak yet. She wasn’t finished with her tale, and she needed the freedom to express her pain on her own terms. In her own time.
Cora’s throat bobbed before she spoke again. “Mareleau is. She always was. It was never me.”
Questions surged through his mind, but he tightened his jaw to keep them at bay. Not yet. He couldn’t hound her with questions yet.
Instead, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. With the other, he slowly lifted his fingertips to her cheek and wiped away the trail of tears glinting in the firelight. Keeping his voice steady, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Her gaze went distant again, but she eventually gave a nod. “Yes. I need logic right now.”
She stood and approached the fireplace. Teryn rose to his feet and followed, leaning against the wall beside the hearth, his arm propped on the mantle. Then she told him. She explained what had happened in Mareleau’s room and the revelations she’d had. She told him all the reasons she believed Mareleau to be the true prophesied mother. Mareleau was very likely a witch, and it made sense for her to be the Blood of Ailan too. More sense than Cora, at least.
Teryn could see why she thought that. Cora had been forced to try to bond with a dragon in El’Ara, something only those of the Morkara’s bloodline could do. The attempt had failed miserably. Though there had been reasons to explain it—she’d removed the collar too late, her Elvyn blood was too diluted—it made the most sense that she simply wasn’t of Ailan’s lineage.
“Every time I stated that I was descended from Ailan,” Cora said, voice hollow as she watched the dancing flames, “it always felt wrong. It always felt like a lie. I’d thought it was because I wasn’t confident in claiming such a significant role in the prophecy, but the truth is that…it wasn’t me.”
Teryn reached out and brushed his knuckles against hers, a silent reminder that he was here. He was listening.
She spoke again. “As for Valorre, he was chased from El’Ara by the dragons who’d sensed Mareleau’s awakening magic. Valorre was able to pierce the Veil with his horn, but when he reached the other side, his memories were compromised.”
Something flickered across her expression. Hurt or rage, he wasn’t sure, but this had to pain her. Valorre was her best friend and familiar. Meeting him must have felt like fate, the one solace that came from being entangled in the web of prophecy.
Yet now she had no place in that prophecy. She’d only met Valorre because he’d unwittingly been looking for someone else. Worse was that which she’d yet to say.
That she’d been cursed in Mareleau’s place.
She, who had no part in the prophecy, had been hurt and abused because of Morkai’s misinterpretation of Emylia’s words. Not that he could wish Cora’s fate on Mareleau. She was his sister-in-law, the woman Larylis loved. She was Cora’s friend.
But to say he didn’t feel the slightest bit of resentment that she’d been granted the safety of a coddled childhood while Cora had been running for her godsdamned life would be a lie.
“This is my fault.” The voice startled him, for it didn’t belong to Cora. He straightened and found Emylia beside him, between him and Cora. Her eyes were on his fiancée, her semi-transparent form rippling with tremors. “I did this.”
Cora shook her head and faced Teryn, oblivious to the apparition standing beside her. “Valorre has all his memories back. It happened suddenly?—”
“I’m so sorry,” Emylia’s voice cut over Cora’s, and Teryn tried to tune it out. He couldn’t acknowledge her presence, for Cora didn’t know about Teryn’s uncanny new ability.
“—which makes me wonder if the Veil has torn.”
“This is why I can’t move on,” Emylia wailed.
“What do you think?” asked Cora.
Teryn opened his mouth, but Emylia spoke first. “This is why I’m plagued with guilt.”
“Emylia,” he barked, unable to ignore her a second longer.
Both Cora and the spirit stiffened. Cora frowned. “What about Emylia?”
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his brow.
