“Mmm. Okay.” She scribbled a note.
“What does that mean? Woman, what are you writing down? What are ‘mommy issues?’”
“I’m just doodling.” Bronwyn gave him a serene smile. “Okay, Donovan. You have your duties; your twin is a troublemaker, and your mom lets him get away with it because that’s his role, right? That must hurt quite a lot.”
He stared at her stonily for a moment.
“This is a safe space,” she added gently. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds like your mother is controlling, your brother is destructive, and you’re caught in the middle. Can you think of an example of a time where you were following your mother’s orders, and your brother ruined everything?”
“Perhaps.” Donovan looked away. “My parents arranged my marriage at birth. I did not meet my intended bride until I was of age.” His expression softened. “I would have married a troll if my mother deemed it necessary to secure the safety of our kingdom, but as it turns out, the match was very favorable. My bride was the sweetest flower in the land.”
I wriggled uncomfortably in my seat. He obviously wasn’t talking about Cress. Unless the flower was carnivorous and knew how to hold a knife and stabbed people as they walked by.
“Go on,” Bronwyn urged.
“I fell in love with her. Every time we met, I was dazzled by her attentions, her sweet nature, her innocence. She made me feel invincible. Like I was worthy of the crown.”
Bronwyn scribbled another note.
“One day, she disappeared from her castle. Her parents found a note. It seems my twin, Connor, had seduced her and convinced her to run away with him, so she could marry him instead.”
Bronwyn blinked. “Your brother stole your fiancé?”
Donovan nodded. “It wasn’t the first time he took something of mine, so I was not surprised that he attempted to do it. What horrified me was how easily the princess was seduced. She threw away everything—her family, her duty, her chance to be Queen—to run away with Connor because they were in love.”
“Some people can be very manipulative and convincing. So, what happened next?”
“I swore I would never love again.”
“That’s a little dramatic.” Bronwyn made a note. “We’ll circle back to that, though. I mean what happened with Connor and your fiancé?”
He hesitated for a second. “My guardsman tracked them to a neighboring realm and found Connor fighting drunks in an alehouse. Once he had sobered up, he could not even remember where he’d left her. Months later, we found her in a tower, dead, with a knife in her breast and her hands still wrapped around the hilt. She left a note explaining that Connor had broken her heart, and she couldn’t bear the pain anymore.” His brow creased. “He took her because she was mine and threw her away because once he had her, he didn’t want her anymore.”
My heart ached for him.
“Connor sounds like a peach.” Bronwyn uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again. “This dynamic with your brother. Do you think your parents were complicit in fostering this rivalry between you?”
He shrugged. “I do not think so.”
“Your parents could have been stricter with him. You said he’d been taking your things your whole life. Did they ever do anything to stop him?”
After a moment, he shook his head. “My mother in particular was always very fond of Connor. She indulged his whims and laughed away his misdeeds.”
“Do you think that’s fair? That they put all this expectation on you to be the responsible older brother, while Connor got to be the lovable rogue?”
Donovan sank deeper into the loveseat beside me. “There is no such thing as fair and unfair. I am heir. My brother is not. Our roles in this lifetime are set in stone.”
“Hmm. You seem fixated on duty. Do you think you might be using it as an excuse for your mother’s actions, too?”
Donovan’s face grew stony.
“Think about it,” Bronwyn said gently. “There’s a lot you’re not processing, Donovan. Your parents' attitude towards you must hurt. Sure, in your country, it might be expected for you to take on a certain role, but it sounds to me like your mother in particular demonstrated her love for your little brother far more openly, while you were expected to keep a stiff upper lip, as they say. You must resent her for it.”
He didn’t move; in fact, he looked like he’d turned to stone beside me.
A tiny smile of triumph pulled at her lips. “We should explore that more.” Bronwyn tapped her notepad with her pen. “I’m sorry, Susan, we’ve gotten off track a little.”
I got up. “It’s okay,” I said hastily. I didn’t want to get to the story of how he and Cress got together. “I’ve got some calls to make, so I might give up the rest of this session so Donovan can work through whatever issues he’s got going on.”
Bronwyn nodded, and I walked out of the room, heading back into the waiting room before Donovan could object.
Panic tingled in my chest, tempered by my relief that Bronwyn let me go so easily. Any other day, I might have cracked and told her that supernatural creatures had abducted my teenage neighbor, and it was all my fault. I wriggled my phone out of my pocket and checked my messages. Cecil had promised to provide me with regular updates.
No sign of Audrina yet. No sign of any berserkers, either, and apparently, Cress was getting impatient with the hunt. According to Cecil, she’d found an underground supernatural bar and worked off some of her frustration by beating up some vamps for information. She’d gotten a handful of berserkers’ names and was currently checking out a few locations around the city.
I rubbed my chest to try to ease the prickle of fear inside me. The berserkers had abducted Audrina because they saw her walk out of my apartment with Bart, and thought she was me, the Chosen One, the One of Every Blood. I couldn’t really fault the berserkers for their logic. Audrina, the seventeen-year-old clumsy ugly duckling girl fit the bill for the Chosen One far better than me, a forty-five-year-old call center manager, divorcee, and psychiatric outpatient.
So many questions buzzed through me. I paced back and forth, trying to work off my tension. What did the berserkers want with me? And what would they do with Audrina when they figured out she wasn’t me?
Chapter
Two
Forty-five minutes later, Donovan walked out of my therapist’s office slowly, brow furrowed, deep in thought. He looked a little shellshocked.
“Are you okay, Donovan?”
He turned. Some of the darkness in his eyes lifted. “What manner of woman is she?”
