My chest cracks open. Splits right down the middle.
Mom.
“Now that I’ve got your attention,” Moros’s voice grates.
She slowly pours his wine then steps back to hover over his left side.
I grip my knife and my fork until the metal bites into my palms. But we both know I won’t do a gods damn thing about it. No, I love this silly mortal-adjacent woman.
Wait. She isn’t even mortal anymore due to a pact between her and her sisters.
I stare at Moros, wondering if he knows that.
Let’s assume he does.
“Why?” Of all the things that could come out of my mouth. “Why is your hatred so deep? What did I ever do to you?”
Hollow. That’s what I am as I say the words. I can’t figure out who I want to keep my eyes on. My mom? Or Moros?
For a moment I think he’s going to ignore me.
What I miss is the restraint that snaps.
He stands so fast his chair skitters back and slams against the far wall.
His palms slam down on the table in front of me, knocking over several pastries and wine. It all begins to bleed together.
“You are an abomination!” he screams.
I stand. Because I would rather die than ever, and I do mean ever, look up to another man again. Fae or otherwise.
“I am no more an abomination than you.” I grind my teeth to even get the words out.
“We spent centuries under their thumb.” He spits the words. “Millennia.”
I’m so surprised at the words that it takes me a full minute to grasp their meaning.
“Who?”
“Your kind.” The words come out like they’ve been through a blender. He stands, and turns to my mother. Luckily he walks past her to the window.
I walk toward her. One step. Then another. Her eyes stare forward but they’re alive. Like she’s stuck inside her body. Trapped.
I lick my lips, knowing the only way to get her out of here is through it.
“Wild Court.” I say the words and stare into my mother’s eyes. Wondering if she knew. If she knew that I was really Fae all those years ago when Graves handed me over. When Artemis…
“Tuatha Dé Danann,” Moros says instead.
I turn to him. He stands staring out at the vast twilight, leaning against the open stone.
“You have no idea what it was like.” He says the words in the same way Kestra said them earlier. With a sadness only rooted in the kind of trauma time doesn’t heal. “Living under them.”
I swallow because there’s a fury rolling off of Moros as he speaks. That’s fine, it gives me a moment to step in front of my mother.
It’s probably a meaningless gesture but I’m not moving.
“They were cruel at the end.” He gives a bitter laugh. “The mad king. They should all die as far as I’m concerned.”
