I gape at him.
“What?”
A shiver shoots up my spine. “When I said mother, I meant—I meant my Faerie mother. Agrippina?”
“Fallon?” Bronwen’s voice cuts through my frothing thoughts.
“I’ll be right there.” My voice is as thin as a tidemark, but since Bronwen is Fae, I’ve no doubt she hears me loud and clear. “Did Reid once give a love stone to Agrippina?”
Connor’s lips thin. “Ask my son.”
Except he’s not here and Ineedto know. “Please tell me.”
Connor glances toward the window, and although he doesn’t have a direct view of Shabbe, I sense that’s the direction of his gaze. “Tà,” he finally murmurs, unraveling one of the many mysteries of my existence.
No wonder Reid loathes me. I destroyed both the mind and body of the woman he loved.
Sixty-Four
“Your tea has gone cold.” Bronwen pushes it toward where I sit, spine stiff, mind devoured by guilt.
“Did you know about Agrippina and Reid, Bronwen?”
“I know everything.”
Anger rips through my reverie. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“You never asked.”
I blink at her, then blink at the milky tea in the earthen mug. She’s right. I never did ask. Foolish me.
When I don’t seize the cup, she says, “Drink.”
“I’d prefer coffee.”
“Tea is better for your digestive system.”
My eyebrows bend. “Perhaps, but I favor—”
“Fallon, don’t offend me.”
I grind my teeth together. This woman can be so infuriating. I seize the cup and drink the whole thing down to please her. It tastes foul, like a sweetened puddle of dirt with a dash of rot, like— I fling my gaze off the empty mug and onto her white eyes. “It’s to keep my womb bare, isn’t it?”
Without missing a beat, she says, “Yes.”
My anger takes on a whole new dimension. “You could’ve asked whether I wanted to poison my insides.”
“Now isn’t the time to bring a child into the world.”
Although I agree with her, I’m still annoyed. That Nonna did it to save me from birthing a bastard child was one thing, but Lore is my mate. This should beourdecision.NotBronwen’s.
“I’ve seen your future, Fallon. You will bear three babes.Eventually.”
“Eventually beingafterI murder Dante?” I mutter.
The sun reflects in her milky eyes. “Yes.”
“Do you hate me, Bronwen?”
