“How about this?” Emlyn shouts. “Fae ears aren’t just pointy. I can hear everything you’re saying.”
I stiffen. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Maybe? Now you know, at least.”
I suppose that’s good?Though in reality, it means that while the fae can use that language to keep secrets, it’ll be nearly impossible to have a private conversation with Reid.
After a while, we turn east into a valley on the northern side of the forest that we’ve been alongside most of the day. A creek flows through it, its waters flowing over and among various rocks and cattails, their brown tops swaying in the breeze. Taran stops and dismounts.
“We’ll break here to water the horses.” He scratches Willow’s muzzle before offering his hand. I take it, and my other hand ends up on his chest as he guides me to the ground. His jaw tightens before he lets go of me, then he snatches Willow’s reins and leads her to the water.
Emlyn grabs his bow, moving toward the trees. “I’ll try to catch something to eat.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Taran says quickly.
Emlyn raises an eyebrow. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but we both know I’m the better hunter.”
Taran sighs, then nods his head. He glances at me. “You can collect firewood.”
“Why? We won’t need one for long, and Reid and I can easily keep one going to cook with.”
Taran rubs his eyes with his thumb and fingers while mumbling something in the Tongue. “I spoke of the Second Betrayal to you, yes?”
“You did, but I don’t know what that is.” I look at Reid, who shrugs.
Taran drops his hand. “It’s the second time your people betrayed the Land.”
“What was the first time?”
Reid groans. “Emlyn mentioned that. He said humans used to be fae until we started controlling the Land?”
“Wait… what?” My mind shatters, its splinters spiraling into my skull.
We used to be fae?
Why didn’t Taran say anything about this until now?
I meet his eyes, unable to form the words to demand an explanation. He sighs, then recounts how we humans fell from the Land’s grace because of our farming and mining. Every word stirs a whirlwind in my mind, wreaking havoc as I comb through everything I’ve ever learned.
The air’s pressing in on me, my lungs struggling to expand. “How could we not know that? Nothing in our history even suggests it.” As far as I know, our earliest records already have us at war with the fae, defending the land they wished to steal fromus.
“We don’t have a written language,” Taran says. “We record our history through Keepers of the Memories: fae who dedicate their lives—theirverylong lives—to memorizing tales of the past. When the Keepers in Lyndir became mortal, your history died with them. By the time your people developed writing, most of the stories were already lost.”
A weight forms in my stomach, sinking me to the ground.
This is too much. If I’m to believe this… which, how can I not? There hasn’t been a single hole in any of Taran’s explanations so far. It even justifies why he speaks the same language as us, something that didn’t even occur to me to question before.
Is everything I’ve ever known wrong?My hand goes to my pocket, seeking the touch of my little button.
Taran crouches in the grass in front of me, tilting his head to meet my eyes. “The Second Betrayal was after the wars with my people began. Many of us believed it was our duty, to restore the Land. And we were winning, because we didn’t stay in your realm long enough for our gifts to fade.”
And then their progress stopped, because we…
My eyes widen, the truth breaking through like a beacon in a storm. “It was Arandur, wasn’t it? Incanting. We’re forcing magic out of the Land, against Her will.”
Taran nods, his face solemn. Reid plops down next to me as he breathes out a curse.
Tears burn behind my eyes. “All this time… we’ve been wrong.”
