Page 47 of Hybrid Heroics

“After Orsola was dead, Catalina took over the guild, becoming the new High Priestess. She hunted for powerful dark mages to help Alric learn control, but none helped as much as Trian, because he was a light mage, powerful beyond belief; though Orsola would have never admitted that light could overpower dark.

“Orsola had fought to have Alric’s surname be that of his father’s family since he wasn’t an heir. And Catalina left his last name as a symbol to his lineage and all they had overcome. But Trian Mac Gearailt raised him as his own son.

“Alric was over four centuries old before I was born. He was a great brother while I was a child, but as I got into my teenage years, he changed.”

Amelia gave us a watery smile, and I knew she had once cared deeply for her brother. I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes or treating my sisters poorly, no matter their age or power.

“It started with him throwing a fit over a lost chess match, and from there it got worse. My mother explained all this to me when I was sixteen. I’ll never forget the look of guilt and regret she wore. But she loved her children… To a fault.

“When she started grooming me to take over the guild, Alric became angry. She tried talking to him, explaining that the King family had always chosen female heirs. And after the life Catalina had lived, she wouldn’t tempt fate. She was a superstitious woman.

“Alric argued that he was the eldest. Being the High Priest was his birthright. How could she take that from him? But it was never his, and he didn’t enjoy hearing that. He hated that there could have been twelve male children before me, and I still would have been the heir.

“I was seventeen the first time he tried to kill me. And the second, and the third… And the tenth. Catalina finally exiled him. To Alric, though? That was the equivalent of me winning, even if I wasn’t trying to compete. It was the chess match all over again. Except this time, there was no checkmate. The end of the game was death. Either his or mine.”

I shook my head, trying to understand her reasoning, though could I empathize with the difficulty of her decision. “Why don’t you want to kill him now?”

She frowned. “Just like my mother, there was still some part of me that hoped he could be saved. But I know there isn’t. Being in captivity for two decades gives a person plenty of time to dwell on their regrets. Like, if I hadn’t won that chess match, how different would things be now?

“Not knowing my own child is a heavy burden to carry, too. After we left the fae realm, I caught myself wondering if I was more like Orsola or Catalina. I don’t want to be like either of them… But I am. Was. I don’t regret the decisions that brought Sloane into existence. And despite having the best intentions, I still took choices away from her. Just like Orsola did to Catalina.”

Sam squeezed her hands, softly assuring her, “That’s a bit different.”

“Is it, though?” she challenged. “Am I so different? Because a few days ago, I was ready to call all this off, hoping to save two lives… But that wouldn’t have been the case. I put Sloane in the same position Catalina left me in.

“Not that she chose Alric over me, but none of this would be happening if she had punished him for his crimes before I was born. And here I am, unable to kill him as his list of crimes continues to grow. I’m not looking for pity, Sam. I’m stating similarities, putting them into the universe, hoping I can rectify my wrongs and salvage some kind of relationship with our daughter.”

“I wasn’t pitying you,” Sam grumbled. “I was just trying to point out that you didn’t make her fall in love with her brother.”

I rubbed my jaw, sorting through her story. “You think the circumstances of his conception made him who he is today?”

“I do,” she answered. “And as we used such dark magic to conceive Sloane, I worried I was condemning her to the same fate.”

“I mean…” Novak shrugged. “She’s crazy, but not like kill her mom crazy.”

“Novak,” I nearly shouted.

“For Devil’s sake, Vaughn.” He held his hand out at Amelia. “She grazed over it, but the assumption was there. Why are you yelling at me?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You are so insensitive sometimes.”

“Me?” he asked dramatically. “You broke her back last week. Twice. And you didn’t even acknowledge the fact that you sealed your bond with the first break.”

“She asked for the second one,” I argued, scrubbing my hands over my face aggressively. Then I stopped, peeking at him between my fingers. “Wait. What did you say about the bond?”

He scoffed. “You fucking heard me.”

“We talked about it,” I defended. “My mate mark is woven into the fae tattoo on my back.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed. “And when did you talk about that?”

“While we were in—Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I grimaced. “Fuck.”

“Yep,” he popped back. “But don’t worry. She’s not mad. You both had a lot of shit going on last week.”