Page 122 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

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My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

Calla Luminara…

The Fae princess…

The female who wrote the diary clutched in my hands… She married a human.

The truth slams into me, sudden and disorienting, and with it comes another realization, one that makes my pulse stutter. I think I know exactly which human she chose.

Anders says nothing. He doesn’t need to. His gaze stays fixed on me as the implications tear through my thoughts, one after another, faster than I can stop them.

Did the Fae princess abandon her throne to marry the human prince? Is that how Marek seized control of Eranthia?

No.

She wouldn’t.

Calla’s last entry confessed she’d lose her prince once her father passed. She never planned to give up her throne for her lover.

My grip on the books tightens.

How many centuries ago did this happen?

The Fae live long lives. I have no idea how long Marek has been the Shadow King…

How long ago did one female’s choice rock the foundation of the world, leading the continent down a dark path under Marek’s rule?

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Who did the princess marry?”

Anders sighs. “King Korrin Ravenspire, your infamous Late King.”

What?

Like a bolt of lightning striking a tree in the Forbidden Forest, my mind splits down the middle.

The room tilts.

I stumble back and bump into the bookshelf.

“No.” I shake my head. “That can’t be true.”

King Korrin was our renowned human king. The Gods blessed him, gifted him the strength and wisdom required to rule our lands while opposing the ever-threatening Fae knocking at the Veil’s door.

His reign was marked by decades of success, punctuated by a grisly end when he was assassinated by the current Fae king just before the villain ruptured the Veil separating our worlds.

Next to nothing is said about his queen.

I never wondered why.

Women aren’t valued in Astloria.

My breathing grows labored.

Anders’s face blurs as he steps closer. I blink to clear my vision. His solemn frown stings.

“You really didn’t know…” he murmurs the words, but they clang around in my head as loud as the bells that chime through Virendrell morning, noon, and night.