Page 126 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Except my mother is the one who left the diary with her…

I press my lips into a hard line, my head spinning.

Was someone in my mother’s family a servant for the Fae royals?

Are Ferria and I somehow connected to the annihilated Fae bloodline through an ancestor—someone who was charged with safeguarding Calla’s diary?

But why?

What is so important about the diary?

“It’s also just as likely that your adoptive mother served one of the Luminaras’ allies,” Anders muses, his soft voice cutting through my spiraling questions.

I swallow past the lump lodged in my throat. “Calla had allies even after marrying King Korrin?”

“Many.”

My gaze drops to the lineage before me, and I trace my fingers over the marked-out names.

“Are all Calla’s descendants truly dead?” I look up.

A shadow passes through Anders’s gaze. “King Marek would not allow one to live.”

My chest aches for all the innocents. “There are so many…”

“Yes, well…” He clears his throat. “Fae and human relationships tend to be more…fruitful than Fae liaisons.”

His cheeks flush.

“Do Fae have trouble procreating?” I ask without pretense, my no-nonsense healer training coming out.

The color in his cheeks deepens.

“Um… That is…” He coughs. “Yes. Humans are far more fertile. It is why so many Fae followed Calla’s influence and found human mates of their own after King Alaric accepted the marriage. Before that, our population was dwindling.”

“Calla inspired other Fae to marry humans?” My forehead furrows. “But I thought you said she’d dishonored the past rulers.”

“She was the princess.” Anders shrugs, his pale skin tone beginning to return to normal. “Her actions opened up the possibility for new life. New loves. Many Fae of her generation leapt at the opportunity.”

“But not her uncle?”

“No.” His voice darkens, and he stares out the window. “Not her uncle.”

I follow his gaze and take in the thick white clouds rolling across the clear blue sky. Birds swoop. Waves roll.

It’s all so peaceful, but there’s a gnawing sensation itching my skin, right under the dark marks on my arms.

“Did any human and Fae descendants survive the war?” I already know none of King Korrin’s did.

“Some reached Virendrell. The rest were undoubtedly captured by those souls lost to the curse.”

My pulse pounds through my veins, but I keep my voice even. “What curse?”

I hold my breath and count the seconds.

I reach four before Anders responds.

“King Marek’s punishment.”