“Now, sestra⁠—”

“Don’t you ‘now sister’ me, Dmitri Romanov.” I look at Finn to see if he’s going to argue, too, but he holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender, obviously smart enough to know when to shut up. “You guys might be bigger than me, but I’m older than both of you, and I can put you on your asses if the mood strikes. So stop acting like I’m some feeble female who needs your protection before I do just that. Ponyal?”

They exchange sheepish grins, then answer in unison. “Ponyala.”

Someone starts clapping from the living room. Turning, I see it’s Tiernan wearing a huge smile. With Dmitri’s arrival, I’d forgotten we had an audience. Bryn has rejoined the group, sitting next to her husband on one of the couches, each of them resting a hand on her pregnant belly. Connor and Conall—who aren’t anything like the boring, subservient security guards I expected—are posted up by the bar where they can see everyone easily, and Tiernan is sitting in one of the armchairs with Fiona in his lap.

“Brava, Taryn,” Tiernan says. “Love the authority. Not surprised you’re a badass, though. You have a T-name, and T-names are superior over F-names, am I right?”

His wife, Fiona, arches a brow at him. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, not you, love. I was talking about Finni.” But as soon as Fiona looks away, Tiernan nods and winks conspiratorially at me. Right before Fiona backhands him in the chest. “Oof.”

I think I’m going to like her. Bryn seems really nice, too, although Caiden was extremely protective of her after they found us. I noticed he always kept a watchful eye on me whenever I was near her. But I can’t fault him for that. They don’t know me, and Bryn is in a delicate condition, despite the amount of power she has.

As Dmitri, Finn, and I head over to join the others, I address my brother. “Ivan?”

His arctic blue eyes narrow. “Exterminated like the rat he was. But not before I made an example of him for what happens to traitors.”

I don’t need to hear the gruesome details to know that Dmitri made Ivan suffer in front of the clan for his part in my capture. I’m just glad my brother is satisfied that the threat is gone. That means I’ll be able to go home when all this is over. But as Finn takes my hand and guides me down next to him on the open couch, I can’t help wondering if Los Angeles will still feel like home by then. Or if it might be Vegas instead.

“Taryn,” Fiona says, offering me an earnest look. “I want to reiterate what Finn said earlier. None of us expect you to tell us anything. If you say you can’t use your powers, then we believe you.”

I catch Dmitri’s gaze from where he sits on my other side, and he dips his chin in an encouraging nod. He’s the only one on this side of the veil who knows what really happened, and he’s wanted me to let go of the guilt and shame for so long. Maybe telling Finn and his family can be the first step towards that.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and address the room. “I appreciate that, more than you know. But I think it’s time I stop hiding from the truth.”

Finn gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I pray it’s not the last time I feel his touch. He knows part of this story already, but I left out the worst parts. And I’m scared to death he won’t want anything to do with me once he hears it all.

No one interrupts me, though I wish they would so I’d have an excuse not to go on. But Brigid seems determined to let the world remain quiet until I’ve sliced myself open and spilled every drop of shame I’ve kept secret for almost five hundred years.

I tell them all the things about me and Devlyn that I told Finn while we were still in his warm bed. Gods, how was that only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago already. Pulling myself back to the present, I force myself to continue with my confession.

“The entire queendom had gathered at the palace to celebrate Summer Solstice and my 122nd birthday. The latest report from the veil arrived, so my mother decided with everyone there, it was an opportune time to read off the names. An earlier version of her would’ve had more compassion and forethought about what she was doing. But losing my father had broken anything soft in her.

“She read the names, one by one, her tone the same as though reading off ingredients of a recipe. Until she got to the end. Her face drained of its color, and I knew,” I say, my throat tight. “Her gaze met mine, and I shook my head, silently pleading with her not to say it, not to speak it into existence. And then she did; she read the final name on the scroll. Devlyn Emory, captain in the Néit army, prince of the Fire Fae…and my twin brother.”

Shock ripples throughout the room as I concentrate on taking slow, deep breaths. Normally, this is when I would lock the memory away again, unwilling to relive the agony of losing my other half or the horror that came after. But I’m done letting my past rule my present. So this time, I close my eyes, and let the pain come.

“Noooooooooo!”

Denial turns into an anguished sob as the news shatters my heart like an arrow through glass, the jagged shards embedding into the soft parts of me. Unimaginable pain explodes in my chest. It spreads to my limbs, sinks into my bones, invades my very cells.

Gods, it hurts! Lightning courses through my veins, my broken heart sparking bolt after bolt of fiery currents, burning me alive from the inside out. The pain is killing me. I’m going to die. Oh, dear gods, I want to die…

My legs give out, and I double over, falling to my hands and knees in the center of the crowded throne room. Somewhere a banshee is wailing at the top of her lungs, her high-pitched shriek full of untold misery and heartache. But then I glimpse my reflection in the polished Ember floor, and I’m shocked to discover that it’s not a banshee screaming.

It’s me.

Something is happening. My eyes are sparking with an ethereal purple glow as bloody tears streak down my face and stain the lilac bodice of the new birthday gown my mother insisted I wear. My mother. The queen who is so consumed by her legacy that she kept me locked away in the safety of the palace while not caring that her son was off fighting in the war.

Rising slowly, I lock gazes with the One True Queen, and something in my eyes must alarm her because she takes a step back and watches me warily.

“You should have let me fight alongside my brother. It is your fault he is dead, and for that, I will never forgive you!”

“Oh, Taryn, I’m so sorry,” Bryn says with genuine sympathy shining in her green-gold eyes. “I can’t imagine how devastating that must have been.”

As though sensing my need to push past the memory of losing Devlyn, Finn prods the story forward. “So that’s when you left Faerie.”

“No.” Shame and guilt churn like acid in my gut, knowing what comes next. “That’s when I burned the throne room down. With everyone in it.”

TWENTY-SIXFINNIAN

It’s so quiet I can hear the blood pumping inside my veins. Even Tiernan reads the room loud and clear for once and stays silent. Her confession is one I didn’t see coming. None of us did, with the exception of Dmitri who I’m assuming already knew the story.

When she told me that Devlyn was her other half, I didn’t think she was being literal. I ached for her when I thought she’d lost her best friend, but knowing he was her twin brother magnifies that loss by a thousand.

Fiona, who knows more about fae magic than any of us, having been raised by a powerful conjurer, is the first to break the silence.

“Mystics within the specialty lines are incredibly rare, and their power remains dormant for centuries, the fae themselves not even knowing what they are until that power surfaces when they’re older and in their prime. But I read that in extreme cases, trauma could trigger the magic early. Is that what happened to you?”

Taryn nods stiffly. “I blacked out and woke up days later in my bedroom with the acrid stench of smoke in my nose and a thrum of magic like I’d never felt pulsing just beneath my skin. I could only remember bits of what happened in the throne room, but it was enough to know what I’d done.”

Taryn sits completely still, looking like she’s facing down a firing squad. Back erect, chest rising and falling with short breaths, and gaze straight ahead, chin slightly raised, waiting for us to condemn her.

She’s expecting disdain and judgment, disgust and indignation. She’ll get none of it.

Because she can’t see what I see. What I know even my family sees, despite only knowing her for mere hours. And that’s someone who is inherently good. The kind of person who is fundamentally compassionate and empathetic, loyal and brave. The kind of person who wanted to fight in the Purity war alongside her brother and the other warriors to protect her people instead of standing by doing nothing.

The kind of person who would cast a spell to spare another from the horrors of drowning, knowing she couldn’t do the same for herself.

Caiden weighs in, his voice as gentle as I’ve ever heard it. “The grief brought on by the news of your brother’s death caused your Mystic powers to manifest before you were ready to handle them, and you lost control. It was an accident, Taryn.”

“Lack of intent doesn’t change the fact that I killed dozens of innocent fae that day. I was no better than my mother. In fact, I was much worse. I no longer deserved to live among them, much less rule. So I left, taking nothing with me, save my Armas.”

“I understand,” Caiden says. “Have you tried practicing with your powers?”

I nod. “All the time at first. I’d do it in remote locations with no one around, but every time I open the door, it overpowers me. Eventually, I just locked it down and promised to never tap into it again. I only broke that promise once before today.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go any better than the first time?” Tiernan asks.

Taryn glances briefly at Dmitri, and something passes between them I can’t read. Turning back to the rest of the room, she answers simply. “No, it didn’t.”

Caiden rubs his chin thoughtfully with the side of his finger, then looks at me. “Okay, Finn, get us up to speed on things. Start at the beginning and take us up through how you ended up trapped in our father’s secret burial site.”

Tiernan jumps in. “Seriously, what the hell is up with that? That had to be Mom or Seamus. Hey, wolf boys,” he says to the twins. “Did your dad secretly bury our dad? Because, as king, I can lock him in the castle dungeon for that shit.”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “We don’t have a castle or a dungeon.”