Bronywyn
“How are you doing?”
I glance up as Fearghas steps out onto the porch. The fae comes to sit beside me on the stairs. “Fine.” It’s become my candid response these days, even as I don’t actually mean it. Truth is, I don’t know that I’ve ever been okay. Not truly. But what other answer is there? What else can I be? It’s not like I have many more options.
Am I okay that both Tarnley and I nearly died yesterday? No.
Am I okay that a dark fae wore the face of my mother? Fuck no.
But what can I do about it?
“You know,” he starts, “Tarnley may let you get away with that, but I’m not so nice.” He grins at me. “You nearly died yesterday, which, if I’m understanding correctly, is the cherry on top of the fucked-up sundae that has been your luck. So, let me ask again, Bronywyn. How are you doing?”
I sigh as emotion swells in my chest. “Physically, I’m fine.”
“I don’t mean physically.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “You’re not going to let me out of this conversation, are you?”
“Not a damn chance.”
I’m silent a moment as I process how to put the words together. Nothing quite explains exactly what I’m feeling, though, so I decide word vomit is likely my best bet. “Horrible. I can’t seem to get control over anything. Shit, Fearghas, it’s literally one blow after the other. First, dark magic, then Councilmember One tries to torture it out of me, then nightmarish memories—the list goes on and on.”
He nods in complete understanding. “It didn’t help to have a dark fae pretend to be your mother, I’m guessing.”
Tears burn in the corners of my eyes, but I fight to keep it together. I haven’t fallen apart yet, and I certainly won’t start now. “Seeing her again, I’d hoped that somehow what she was saying was true. But I think a part of me knew from the beginning that it wasn’t really her.”
Overhead, an owl hoots as a breeze ruffles the trees surrounding our hideout. “Dark fae were banished from Faerie from the moment they came to be.”
“Why?”
“They were twisted—dark—the results of a fae who wanted to create the perfect weapon. He ended up twisting the magic of an entire faction of our kind, and he, like them, was banished to the Veil.”
“How did she escape?”
“I’m assuming she stole or traded for the ability to dematerialize.”
“They typically cannot do that?”
He shakes his head. “That magic was stripped from them when they were thrust into the Veil.”
“Lucky me, she chose my mother.”
“Something she undoubtedly did on purpose.” He leans back. “I did some digging after that night—spoke to a few people—and it seems the group’s leader was faceless until about a week ago.”
“Really?”
“That’s what I’m hearing. The meetings were all led by a video chat where the camera had been turned off.”
“Do you think it was always her?”
“It’s possible. Dark fae love to cause chaos, so it’s entirely possible she’s merely amusing herself.”
“Amusing herself.” I shake my head and clench both hands into fists. “At the expense of innocents.”
“More than likely. Though I do find it rather curious she helped us.”
“She was scared of you.”