No matter how we try to defy her, we are helpless to right any real wrongs. We only do what she allows, until she doesn’t allow it anymore.
Mother looks back at Alice, her expression becoming slightly haunted. “The resemblance is unsettling, isn’t it? I suppose our Alice was, in fact, young Eleanor.”
“How dare you call that girl yours?” I demand. “You threw her away.”
“You sound like your father.” Her eyes spark with bitter memories. “He loved that ridiculous human more than his own offspring.”
She says it like she believes it, like it’s a shard of ice lodged deep in her heart, but I know it wasn’t true. I was old enough to remember, and though Father treated Eleanor like one of his children, he did not show her favor over us.
“Were you jealous of the girl?” I ask quietly. “Did you honestly believe Father valued her more than the children you gave him?”
“You are a fool if you don’t think he preferred her. If not more than you, his precious first-born son, then certainly more than your sister. Sabine understands that, even if you cannot.”
“And how many times have you told her that lie?” I ask, sickened at the thought of Mother poisoning Sabine’s mind—and disgusted with myself for allowing it to happen.
“Don’t pretend to care. You abandoned her, didn’t you?”
It’s an intentional barb, and it hurts just as intended. I close my mouth, too ashamed to respond.
Beside me, Alice stays still and silent, watching my mother as if she is a predator about to attack.
“Is she always this quiet?” Mother asks Ian when her attention returns to the girl.
“She’s never spoken to me.” Ian watches Alice with an eagerness that makes me want to throttle him. “But maybe she would warm up to me if I wore a mask.”
I move forward, but Alice grabs my wrist, silently begging me to remain calm. I stare Ian down, itching to make him bleed.
“I suppose I can grow accustomed to her presence,” Mother says. “You may claim her if you wish, Ian.”
“No.” I step fully in front of Alice.
Mother gestures around the entry. “She’s an untethered human on Fae property. You know the laws. If Ian wants her, he is well within his right to claim her as his illanté.”
“We’re not in Faerie!”
She smiles. “We’ve already been over this, Brahm. The magic loves loopholes. But I think you already know that.”
I must claim Alice first—it’s the only way.
“Brahm,” Alice begs, her blue eyes wide with fear. “Please.”
“I can’t do that to you,” I say desperately.
Ian walks forward, smiling like a greedy boy about to steal a toy. “I can.”
“Brahm!” Alice says urgently. “I choose you. I vow to be your illanté.”
My magic responds against my will, intrigued by the bargain despite my revulsion.
Mother laughs, taking delight in my turmoil. “You do realize this is a binding agreement, don’t you, Alice? As an illanté, you will be little more than a pet, lower than a servant. Bound forever and never able to marry or return to your life here in Kellington.”
Panic fists over my heart. “No!” I snarl.
“I agree,” Alice says quietly.
“Very well.” Mother smiles. “Brahm, I bind this girl to you.”
I feel the magic lock into place as the bargain is made complete, helpless to fight my queen.