Velora is dying, she did not say. Only death awaits. As if death had not come for me in Balar Shan. The memory of black bile pouring from Alair’s wounds?—
“There is nothing for me here,” I snarled, more creature than man.
Hurt flashed in her warm brown eyes, so different from the cool turquoise of mine. Cool in mine. Cold in my father’s. Frozen, like this dying land. She covered it quickly, but I saw it nonetheless.
Regret sank its claws into my chest. I had become just another person who could hurt her. That was a more pressing reason than any to leave, now, before I said something I could not take back.
I’d always been better at hiding my feelings than my mother. Her heart was too gentle to hide. Mine was hard; a trait I’d inherited from my father.
I could have shown her my hurt. If I fell into her arms and wept, she would console me. But if I began to grieve, I would never stop. As long as I remained in Balar Shan, Alair’s shadow would appear in every darkened corner,and I would remain my father’s plaything.
I fastened the flap over the top of my pack and swung it over my shoulder as I turned back to face my mother.
My room was spacious. I was the bastard son of the king, but I’d been his only son for many years. They had not bothered to take it away from me when my brother was born. But I felt no affection for it. That had died long before my lover.
My mother had retreated to the edge of the bed.
“I am not a fae subject, and I have made no bargain.” And there was nothing I could do for her while I remained here.
She sank down to the bed, increasing the disparity in our heights. “Perhaps you are right.”
There was the regret again, hot and sharp. I closed the space between us, reaching for her hand. “Mother…”
She did not pull back from me, but her eyes were harder; the warm brown hue turned glossy. “If you cannot think clearly, then you should not stay in Balar Shan.” Her voice was steady. Maybe she had learned more in the Court of Lies than I’d ever realized. Maybe she just needed a push, too.
I tightened my hand around hers. “Come with me.”
She sucked in a breath and pursed her lips, but she looked away from me to make it harder to read her eyes. It did not work to hide the moisture that flooded them.
“You know I cannot do that,” she said over my shoulder. There was nothing in that corner of the room but a painting Alair and I had used for target practice when learning his bow. That yawning ache in my chest tried to open again?—
No. I could not do it. If I let the grief out, it would consume me. It hurt to shove him into a box in the recesses of my mind, but less than letting it remain open. I told myself he would understand. Maybe he would not. Maybe he would be angry. I could be angry. I was angry enough for both of us.
My mother squeezed my hand.
All three of us.
I drew her up to stand. “You left once before.”
She shook her head, her eyes now refocused on me. “Only on the promise that I would return with you when called. Which I have done. But the bargain was specific. There was no provision for me to ever leave Balar Shan once I came back.” She rarely spoke of my father. There was no relationship between them now; there had not been for decades. But he was the fae king, and she was a human servant. Little better than a slave. “He knows that so long as I am here, you are tied to this place, and to him.”
Her words were final.
I could compel her.
“Your magic has grown,” she said quietly. “One day soon, I will not be able to tell the difference between my own thoughts and the ones you plant inside my head.”
That easily, she’d recognized the direction of my thoughts. Never in my life had I used my magic to compel my mother without her knowledge. When the magic first manifested, she’d allowed me to practice. But I’d never intruded and used my mind gift to sway her thoughts. It was a violation that could never be undone.
She reached up, well above her own head, and straightened the strap of my pack where it lay twisted against my shoulder. It was a final gesture of goodwill. And of farewell.
“I will find a way to free you,” I promised.
It might take me decades to find a way to thwart my father and free her from her bargain. My mother was human. She did not have the hundreds and thousands of years granted to the fae. I must be careful and ruthless.
She lifted my hand to her heart and gave it one final squeeze. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
CHAPTER 32
