Aine gives him a cool look. “I did not say it no longer requires death. I believe it still does. I did not intentionally give my daughter the Power. I would never have endangered her in that manner.”
I scoff and murmur, “More like she would never intentionally give up her position as OTQ.”
The room is deafeningly silent. Then Finn goes into triage mode, eyeing the rest of our group. “Let’s give them the room.”
Everyone turns to leave, but I grab onto Finn’s arm like I’ll drown if he leaves my side right now. “Not you. Please,” I plead in a whisper.
He places his hand over mine. “Whatever you need, solnyshko,” he replies softly.
Once the others leave and close the door behind them, Aine gestures for us to move to the small sitting area where four plush armchairs face each other. My mother lowers herself to one and Finn and I take up the ones opposite her.
For several minutes that feel like an eternity, we remain awkwardly silent, neither of us knowing where to start.
Finally, she sighs and places her laced fingers in her lap. “You think I cared nothing for you, Taryn, but I loved you more than you know. Something you’ll understand someday when you have children of your own.”
Her eyes flick to Finn briefly, letting me know she’s aware of the trajectory of our relationship. The thought of having children with Finn spreads warmth in my chest. “I would never treat my children with cold and indifference like you did me.”
She sucks her cheeks in and takes a breath as though she’s doing her best not to get defensive, which is exactly what I expect her to do based on our history.
“Your father was the warm one. I was not as…good…at showing my love,” she admits finally, shocking me to my core.
“Garyth grounded me, though. What little warmth I did have was because of him. When he left us, it broke my heart.” She pauses briefly for another visible collecting of her emotions. “I know you resented me for keeping you here while Devlyn fought in the war, but after losing Garyth, the possibility of losing you both was too great. So, I forbade you to go and prayed to Brigid for Devlyn’s safe return.”
“You think I wasn’t scared to death of losing him, too?” I say, my tone sharp. “It’s why I wanted to go, to help keep him safe. You knew I was every bit the trained warrior he was.”
“I did. However, I let my grief and fear rule me. I reasoned that one child was better than none. But when I read Devlyn’s name that day, despite my best efforts, none was exactly what I had. I saw it in your eyes, you were as lost to me as your father and brother were.
“My heart, cool as it was, was not indestructible. And regardless that it beats inside my chest to this day, that is the moment it was no more.” She swallows hard against the lump in her throat that mirrors mine. “Apparently, an emotional death was enough for the gods.”
“And I was the one who killed you,” I whisper in realization. “That’s why the Power transferred to me.”
My mother does me the courtesy of not affirming it out loud, but she doesn’t have to. I broke what was left of her heart when I swore I’d never forgive her.
A million things run through my mind all at once. The fact that I might not even be a Mystic, that the power I’ve been unable to control until very recently is so much bigger than I thought.
A small part of me is soothed knowing I never could have circumvented the events of that day in the throne room. It doesn’t alleviate my guilt, but I never stood a chance at containing the strongest magic in the realm so young.
However, there’s another part of me that’s freaking out even more, because strongest magic in the realm. I thought this past week I was practicing to control Mystic powers, which are impressive enough.
But to realize I have the same power inside me that my mother used to magically POOF two entire courts of fae into the human world with the snap of her fingers is more than a little terrifying. What the hell am I capable of? I’m afraid to find out.
“Why did you leave Faerie, Taryn? I expected you to leave the palace. The city, even. But how could you leave all this behind?”
I assume “all this” means the beauty and magic of our fae realm, but those things weren’t even on my mind that night. “How could I leave? Mother, how could I have stayed? Justifiable causation or not, when I set fire to the throne room, I killed our people. When I realized what I’d done I didn’t think I could live with myself.”
A shudder runs through me as I remember the only two options I felt I had after waking up in my room. The words grate over my tongue as I confess it out loud for the first time. “Leaving Faerie was the less fatal choice I made that day.”
Finn’s hand squeezes mine, almost uncomfortably so, and I know it’s because of what he just heard.
Aine’s eyes widen briefly as she registers my meaning. Then she frowns, her brows knitted in confusion. “Daughter, you did not kill anyone that day.”
My heart stops beating. Time stands still. I’m in an alternate dimension. I can’t have heard her right. “I…didn’t?” I manage to eke out.
“No, child.” Aine’s tone loses its sharp edge for the first time since my return. She may as well have pulled me into her embrace and rocked me while stroking my hair.
“But they were screaming, they were caught in my fire, I know they were.”
She cants her head to the side as though seeing me in a new light. As though finally understanding me. “It is true that many were injured—some badly so—but all recovered, either on their own or with the aid of our healers. No one perished that day, Taryn.”
A profound sense of relief floods through me, untangling the knotted tension in my chest. The unbearable weight of guilt I’ve carried for so long begins to lift, and I draw in a deep, steadying breath. Tears well up again, but this time from overwhelming relief rather than pain.
“Had you not bolted immediately upon awakening, I would have explained that to you, and we could have avoided this whole mess,” she tacks on.
“There it is,” I mutter.
That’s the passive-aggressive mother I remember so well. Finn clears his throat to get my attention, then glances down at our hands where I’m doing the excessive squeezing this time. I force myself to relax my grip but give him a strained smile that says, Sorry, but do you see what I’m dealing with here?
His return look says, This is an olive branch moment for her. She might have the emotional intelligence of a toddler, and I don’t blame you for being upset—in fact, I’m upset right along with you, and we can smack-talk later about her—but right now you need to do your own olive branch-extending. But also, you are the most amazing daughter ever, and she’s lucky to have you.
Okay, so I might be projecting some of that, but I’m pretty confident in my interpretation.
Composing myself with a few deep breaths, I mentally count to ten, then give her the one thing that will hopefully bring her a small amount of peace. “Dad didn’t leave us. Not like how you thought, anyway.”
Her hands briefly tighten on the arms of the chair, then she relaxes them and lifts her chin a touch higher, locking her emotions down in true Aine fashion. “Go on.”
“Did you know that he was a seer?”
“Of course. He was my mate.” But her insistence sounds off to me, so I wait a beat for her to say more. “He never specifically said, but I suspected as much. That was not a testament to our bond,” she adds quickly. “Seers rarely reveal themselves to anyone, even their mates.”
