Because yeah, he was right.
She put up with a lot.
And I sort of fucking adored her for it.
“So now what?” he asked.
“Now I pretend like everything’s normal and pray to the fae that Dad doesn’t find out,” I told him.
Tray gave me a look. “Sounds like a brilliant plan, mate. Top-notch.”
“If you think of a better one, I’ll be all ears,” I drawled.
He just shook his head. “I’m going back to bed. Something tells me I’m going to need all the sleep I can get because Dad said I’m joining you tomorrow for whatever discussion he wants to have.”
“Try to act surprised if he mentions the Quandary Bloods.”
“Trust me, that won’t be hard,” he admitted.
Yeah, I imagined it wouldn’t be.
“Oh, but there is one positive to all this,” he said, starting toward his door.
I arched a brow at him. “Which is?”
“You don’t have to mate that bitch Emelyn anymore,” he replied, clearly thrilled by the realization. “Silver lining and all that.”
I laughed. “Thank fuck for small miracles,” I drawled.
“I’d call that a major fucking miracle,” he corrected.
I grunted. He was absolutely right about that.
As he undid the enchantment to allow himself to leave, I picked up my phone and sent a quick text to Zeph.
Fixed it. But Tray pretty much knows everything.
Zeph’s reply came a few minutes later. Something tells me he already knew and was just waiting for the right moment to catch you in the truth.
I considered that with everything Tray had just said and replied, You’re right.
I usually am, he shot back.
I rolled my eyes. Take care of Aflora. Tell her I’m sorry.
Will do, he returned.
I set my phone down and slipped into my sheets. Tomorrow would come all too early, and I needed to be prepared, just like Tray said.
And I also needed a much better plan.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Aflora
Eight days later and I still couldn’t stop thinking about what Kols had told me about my parents.
It was like finding out they’d died all over again, except I never really knew about it the first time. I’d felt their souls detach from the source—a life-altering experience for a seven-year-old—and I’d understood what it meant. Yet I’d never known why it’d happened. Or how.