Page 179 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

I tilt my head. “You once told me your magic is better suited for a place like Virendrell.”

He nods.

“Why? Don’t Mountain Fae require healers?”

He leans back and stares at the night sky. “Mountain Fae prefer males to be hunters. Warriors. When I showed no aptitude for wielding my magic in offensive or protective ways, it became obvious I would not be a respected member of society.”

That’s…sad.

“So your mother brought you here?” I ask in a soft voice.

“So my mother brought me here,” he confirms.

A moment of silence passes before I ask, “How long ago was that?”

A long breath blows past his pursed lips. “Nearly a century.”

Wow…

I drum my fingers against the railing. “That was years before the Shadow War started.”

“Yes, though…” His eyes grow distant. “While some years can seem never-ending, many of them feel far too short.”

I hum. “I imagine many Fae feel that way.”

“Yes. Part Fae, too.”

I blink. “Part Fae age differently than humans?”

“They do.”

My heart thumps in my chest. “But…but I thought they shared more in common with humans.”

I think of Hali. Of Leto.

They seem so…normal. Human.

None of the part Fae I’ve encountered possess the strange, otherworldly aura of the Shadow Fae or Helen. Or even Anders.

I can’t believe I never considered that they would share other characteristics with their more powerful ancestors.

“No,” Anders says. “Part Fae share life expectancies similar to Fae. Though, it is easier for your kind to succumb to injuries. Your bodies are much less resilient to traumas.”

Well, that sounds like a crappy⁠—

Wait—

Your kind.

The world tilts.

Did he just…

My pulse roars. Magic burns in my chest. The marks along my arms coil and snap.

My entire body stiffens, and it hits me that I’m alone out here, too far from the celebrations to hope to be heard if I scream.

“Relax.” Anders drops his head, and his knowing, steady eyes meet mine. “I haven’t shared your secret. As far as the rest of Virendrell knows, you are a human with magic.”