Page 9 of Maleen

I nod silently, needing to know anything she can tell me.

She takes a deep breath and stares at the ceiling, and we all lean in closely to hear the whispered, horrid tale I’m sure she’s about to share.

“That night—we should have seen it coming. Your fathers were convinced that Lord Craven would never cross that line, but I should have known. See, as fledglings, Craven was close with your fathers and I. We were inseparable, weren’t we?” she asks and Amethyst dips her head in acknowledgment.

“We all were, though you never told me what happened all those years ago.” She grabs my mothers other hand.

“I met my mates. My soul-tied mates,” she whispers. “Your fathers.”

“Wait. Are you saying true mates came back with you? That I wasn’t the first?”

Her eyes widen in shock. “You met your mates?” Her gaze darts to Aemon standing behind me and a small smile graces her parched lips. “Of course, you males never wanted to leave her side. I should have known. But yes, my council told me we needed to keep it under wraps. We didn’t want to give the realm hope in case it was a one-off, but Lord Craven figured it out, and something in him broke,” she murmurs, getting a faraway look in her eyes. A look I’m all too familiar with. It’s what I’ve seen when my mind gets sucked back into the past, to the dark trenches of my mind where the horrors I’ve been through lie dormant until they come back to haunt me.

She shakes her head, attempting to pull herself out of it. “He was never the same after that. He became cold and distant. We thought once he met his mate, Talyn’s mother, he would turn back into the male we all remember. And he did, for a bit. She fell pregnant and it was like we saw a glimpse of him again.” Another cough rattles through her and we all wait patiently until she’s able to speak again.

“Then I got pregnant with you, and he went back to the way he was before he met his chosen mate. She died not long after that.”

Wait. “Did she die in childbirth with Cynder? I’m confused. Isn’t Cynder seven years younger than me? Did he re-mate?”

She squeezes my hand, tears leaking steadily down her face. “She died during childbirth with Talyn. Cynder isn’t Talyn’s sister. She’s yours.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’M SORRY, WHAT DID YOU just say?” I ask, staring at the female before me like she’s grown another head. I could not have heard her correctly.

“Cynder is your sister. I found out I was pregnant before the Winter Solstice Ball. The night everything happened. I was planning to tell your fathers the next day…” Her voice softens until it fades, unable to speak about the tragedy that happened that night. “He took her away from me the moment she was born. I managed to convince him that she was his and not my mates’. After all, he was convinced that I was his mate and made sure I knew that I was…” She stares off into the distance, her body trembling, stuck in a past of horrors as she continues sounding even more broken than she did seconds ago. “I let him do what he wanted to me, to keep her safe, but eventually he figured it out… I think… I tried… The dreams…” She takes a breath, her eyes fluttering softly. “I’m so tired,” she whispers, and if I wasn’t sitting so close to her I wouldn’t have heard her.

I wait for her to say more, to say something else, but her even quiet breaths have confirmed she’s fallen into a sleep. She looks so peaceful despite everything, the pinch between her brow has smoothed out and the shadows in her eyes are now hidden behind dreams.

Amethyst rises from the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “We should let her rest.”

Aemon squeezes my shoulder but I’m not ready to leave. I’ve only just gotten her back but there’s something I need confirmed. “When the healer said they were keeping her comfortable…?”

His mother comes around to my side of the bed and hugs me. That’s all the confirmation I need. My chest is tight and my throat burns as I try to keep my emotions at bay. Yet it doesn’t take long for that grief to turn to anger. Why my family? Why in the fucking Fates is Lord Craven so bent out of shape to destroy everything dear to me? Because of jealousy? No. It has to be more than that.

Shifting back slightly, I pull from her embrace and stand before turning to my mate. “I need to speak to Cynder.” Fuck. “Talyn…” I whisper. “He’s going to need to know.”

“You’re not going back down there.” He winces, placing his hand on my lower back. “Maybe we should discuss this elsewhere.”

I peer down at the Queen of the realm, broken and brittle from twenty-one years of being held captive and having who knows what done to her. “I think you’re right. Lead the way.”

He wraps me in his arms and looks over at his mother. “I’ll be in my office.” And then inky black shadows seep from the darkest corners of the room before engulfing us.

It only takes a moment before we’re in his office. The soft crackling from the fireplace in the corner gives warmth to the room, chasing away the chill that has seeped into my bones. But I feel heavier now than before. Gauzy curtains gently blow in the wind, bringing in some of the salty sea air. The smell is a comfort reminding me of when I was younger, and right now I cling to the memory, praying to the Fates that it helps keep me grounded.

“We should bring the others and update them on everything.” My fists clench and then loosen repeatedly as I try to get my emotions in check. Did his father really do all of this to Damorleia because of jealousy? Because he couldn’t have my mother? He killed my family and the Gallalous fae, plunged the realm into war because of what? He couldn’t have what he wanted?

Rage burns deep in my gut. The unfairness of everything has shadows pulsing and magick crackling at my fingertips.

Aemon cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “Your anger is justified, Little Dream. Call your mates to you.” He doesn’t give me empty platitudes. No apologies for life being unfair, and for that I’m thankful. There’s no use apologizing for someone else’s actions, especially those that cannot be changed.

Nero, my ever silent companion in this moment, feels and matches the wrath boiling in my blood. “We will get our revenge, I promise you Rav. Lord Craven will crumble under the force of your magick. Leave no part of him. Not even his eyeballs. They’re probably cursed anyway.”

A sputtering chuckle leaves my lips and the anger that felt almost consuming eases a bit. “You. Turning down an eyeball? Are you feeling okay?”

He purrs, nuzzling his head against my cheek. “I’m okay, as long as you are.”

“I’m with the feathered rat on this one,” Vasari adds. “We will rain shadowflame down on that fucking bastard.” A choir of dragon roars echo through the stone walls. A promise.