Evelina was thankful for a few moments of quiet. She wanted to soak it in while she could. So much had happened since yesterday. Her mother was dying,shealmost died, and Daimon…
She could still see his face when she showed up in the throne room. His commander mask had fully dropped. It showed her more than just a glimpse of his emotions; it bared every raw inch of it.
It made her realize he had always been her shadow boy, through and through. Even now, as much as he wanted to hide it.
“Do you know why he left?” she asked suddenly. “You and Neve were like parents to him. I was too young to ask you at the time.”
Maliena paused, her lips parting. She blinked a few times and said, “He never told me. You knew him better than most, if I remember correctly.”
Evelina’s brows drew together as she thought about it. “Not as well as I hoped, I suppose.”
Maliena nodded sympathetically, clasping her hands together. “When he was young, he always kept to himself. Until he met you, that is.” She smiled softly. “I confess to never quite knowing what was in his mind.”
“Did you know his parents? Or where he came from?” Daimon had never told her, an abyss he never seemed ready to discuss.
Maliena’s eyes grew distant. “His mother was troubled before she died, but she loved him very much.”
“Troubled?” Evelina echoed.
Maliena shook her head, as if clearing her mind of painful memories. “They were outcasts. And the day he was born, his mother paid dearly for it.”
Evelina winced. She knew Daimon had lost his mother young, but not so quickly—and so tragically.
“And his father?” she asked cautiously, feeling as if she were finally getting to the heart of things.
Maliena paused, her brows knitted together tightly. “He?—”
Annora strode into the room, breaking the tension. She carried a tray with a steaming bowl of broth and freshly baked bread. Her shoulders slumped in relief when she saw Evelina. “Good, you’re awake.”
Maliena patted Evelina’s knee and stood, switching places with Annora. Evelina watched her leave as she ate, still curious.
There were only so many reasons a fae would be outcasted. Crimes against the fae—killing, maiming, torture. Refusing to adopt the customs—or, worse, following human customs instead. But the first was rare and the second wasn’t worth the kind of tragedy that had struck Daimon’s life.
She had heard of a much more common tale, though—one that had culminated in this very war.
Dark god worshippers. The very fae who set the scene for Moros’s rebellion and facilitated corrupted Essence into the rebels’ hands.
If Daimon’s mother had been one, it would explain why her people had turned against her and her child. And if his father was still alive…he could be one of the very rebels Daimon fought.
Her heart lurched at the thought. No wonder he couldn’t look a Manor princess in the eye, not after everything the rebels had taken from her—and after everything she planned to give them back.
Perhaps he’d known they were on opposing sides all along: shadow and light. And she was only just now catching on.
Forty-Three
Evelina
Sometimes,you have an idea about what your future will be, and then fate steps in to ruin your carefully laid plans. Evelina never saw herself as someone in the spotlight, never considered herself to be a leader like Carwyn or a skilled warrior like Ren. She didn’t even consider herself to be an easy-to-love personality like Lyria.
Her mother was one of the only ones who saw her; who chose her as a formidable healer to be stationed on the border.
But her mother wasn’t here.
Now that her light had presented in such an undeniable way, Evelina had been made the center of attention. The people who had overlooked her presence for years were now arguing about what to do with her.
She stood outside of the throne room, her body still weak. Her strength was just starting to return after sleeping the entire previous day and late into the night.
“We need to make an offensive push into the Zenovia Mountains.” Carwyn’s voice was steady, already sounding like a queen. “I’ve already sent Daimon, Brielle, Aster, and Gloriana back to the borderto prepare.”
