Ready, I joined him, surprised at how soft the shorter grass around us was under the soles of my feet.
Artton’s stance was imposing, making it easy to picture him looking over a group of new recruits, assessing, judging, and stepping in to correct as needed. I wondered what kind of leader he was. He’d been a rude pain in the ass to me, but for some reason I couldn’t picture him being that way toward those he led.
“I can’t imagine how the events of the other day affected you,” he said in a tone I hadn’t heard from him before. It was stern, but held a layer of affection. “And I won’t patronize you by saying I understand—because none of us ever could.” I swallowed, unsure where this was going. “I’ve thought long and hard about how to… even the playing field, so to speak, and while that’s truly impossible, what I can offer you is this: a secret of mine that only three other souls know, and a benefit from witnessing more memories than you intended. Which one would you like me to share first?”
I blinked up at him, unsure of how to feel. My relationship—if one could even call it that—with Artton was tenuous at best. Yes, something had shifted between us in the aftermath of the botched vision, but what he was offering me here was more than that. He was offering me mutual trust and perhaps a friendship, if not a strong connection as allies at the very least. While I had nothing to lose from what he offered me, I paused, actively talking my anxieties down to avoid raising walls and knee-jerking away.
“Nyleeria?” Artton’s asked after too much silence had settled between us.
It should have been a simpleyes. I knew that. But in a way, he was inviting me into his inner circle, like truly inviting me in—and that scared the living shit out of me, because what would sayingyesended up costing me?
I searched his eyes not sure what I was looking for, and as I did, my powers warmed my chest as if saying,you can trust him, and for the first time since they’d seen everything, I wondered if there was something bigger at play—that maybe it hadn’t been anaccidentafter all. Maybe my next thought was delusional and triggered by too much trauma, but like I’d chosen to remember the cabin at its best, I decided to believe that there was a guiding hand in all this, and leaned in.
“The secret,” I finally said with a firm nod.
“The secret it is, then,” he said. Silently, Artton flipped his wrist up, and a ball of barely tamed flames ignited a couple of inches above his palm. My brows pulled together in confusion, and my eyes darted to his, because nothing about it was remarkable—let alone a secret worth keeping. He put a finger up with his free hand, indicating that he wasn’t done.
I watched with rapt attention as he brought his idle palm above the flames, and a deluge of water poured down out of thin air, snuffing the flames.
My jaw hit the ground. “Impossible,” I whispered, reaching a hand out and letting the water filter through my fingers. Water still flowing, I looked up at him. “Summer fae can’t conjure water.”
“No. They cannot,” he said simply.
I pulled my hand back to inspect it, watching the lingering rivulets yield to gravity.
The commander closed his fist, and the water ceased.
Processing in real-time, I said, “You can yield all four elements?”
He nodded.
“And you were born in the Summer Court?”
He nodded again.
“And both of your parents are summer fae?”
“Yes, but regardless of your parentage, whatever court you’re born into is the court you’re bound to, and the powers you will possess.”
That was news to me—in all the readings, I’d never come across that information. “Wait, what happens when a female is pregnant and traveling to another court when she delivers?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Unless granted special permission—which is almost never approved—the bairn must be born in their home court. The only time it’s considered is when the parents are of mixed heritage. In that case, it defaults to the male’s lineage, unless they petition the courts for the Mother’s lineage to prevail. These laws protect courts from offspring being raised for infiltration purposes.”
Well, shit. I’d never even considered that.
Winging the conversation back to what he’d revealed, I said, “Endymion, he knows about it, yes?”
Artton nodded.
“And Caius?”
He nodded again.
It took me a moment to think of the third, but it was the only logical option. “Kaelun knows too. But you didn’t tell him—his unara detected it.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “Kaelun’s unaras are beyond phenomenal, but he’s cracked open secrets we’ve held for centuries. Ones we never wanted to burden him with.” Artton’s shoulders seemed to dip from the admission.
“I guess we’re all victims to the whims of the fates.”
