by Casey Lane
“Amandan, like Etain, coveted all that the King and Queen possessed. He befriended Etain, seduced her, convinced her that the kingdom could be theirs. And so, they hatched a mad scheme. Amandan would help Etain murder her sister so they might swap places. She would become the Queen, desolate upon learning of her dear sister’s death. All Etain had to do was fool the king long enough to become with child, once the royal heir was secured, should the King meet with an untimely demise, the Queen was free to marry whoever she desired. She would rule until her death, at which time her son would take over.
“For months, she watched, studying her sister’s gestures, voice, mannerisms, everything she needed to fool the king. When Amandan declared Etain ready, she lured Sorcia into his clutches, delivering her a painful death when all Sorcia had ever done was love her. Etain became her sister, slipping seamlessly into the king’s life and his bed. But, in all her studying of her sister, she’d failed to notice one important detail...Sorcia was already pregnant.
“Etain panicked. The king was leaving; he would be gone for months. She would have to feign a miscarriage, trick her new husband into believing she’d lost the baby. But Amandan had another idea. He would put his baby inside her, fooling the king and accelerating their timeline. Once the child was born, the king would befall the same fate as his beloved wife, and Etain would marry Amandan and together, they would raise their child as the false king of the three realms, ruling by his side.
“Etain did become pregnant quickly with the help of a witch who ensured they would birth a boy child and when the king returned, he was none the wiser. Etain’s pregnancy went as planned and months later she gave birth to a healthy baby. A baby girl. While Etain was distraught, the king was pleased and named the child Sorla, after his mother.
“Amandan was infuriated, he hunted down the witch and slaughtered her without a second thought, feeding enough current through her that blood seeped from her eyes and ears. Etain and Amandan were in agreement; they couldn’t dispatch the king until she delivered a male child. But by this time, Amandan was insistent that Etain have his son, not the kings. A girl child was of little use to him. He wanted the heir to be his, not the king’s, even if the only people who knew were just the two of them. But Etain had grown tired of Amandan and his scheming. Each day she was with the king, she only wanted him more. Yet, Amandan was dangerous, so she did what was necessary to ensure no child would come from any union she had with him, all the while ensuring that she spent each night in the arms of her king.
“But Etain had made yet another mistake. In her attempts to attain an heir, she forgot that she was playing a role, she forgot that her sister would never ignore her child to chase the dream of an heir. She didn’t realize the King was playing a role too. That of a devoted husband. While Etain ignored Sorla every day, the King was enthralled by her. Her fair hair and sky blue eyes were exactly like her mother’s, but the king suspected that her mother was not his beloved Sorcia but her sister, Etain but he couldn’t let on until he was sure. A situation like this would breed unrest, and his enemies always had eyes on him, watching for any opportunity to upset the peace he’d created after years of turmoil.
“When Sorla was barely two years old, a mark appeared, the mark of Sorla’s people. A mark that should have declared her a member of the Ohrenthral clan. But the mark she bore was the mark of the Dubshlaine: the dark tribe. Sorcia and Etain had been from the sea tribe, the Muirenn. The king had long suspected Etien was her mother, but he’d never doubted that Sorla belonged to him. He loved the Sorla just as he would have loved a child of his blood. But Etien had to go.
“While the king plotted to quietly remove his wife’s imposter from his kingdom, there was another who had grown suspicious of Etien and her motives. Amandan was not a fool; he knew Etien had fallen for the king. She was lying to him, playing with him, attempting to manage him until she could find a way to dispatch him for good. But Etien had no idea who Amandan truly was. Had no idea that he was the son of the clan leader of the Dubshlaine. He’d been exiled by his father and now intended to use his child as a bargaining chip, offering her up to his father to force the king to step down.
“Amandan sent a message to the dark tribe. He professed that the king was a fool and that the woman the three realms called queen was not the Queen at all but her sister and that the child the king doted upon wasn’t his but Amandan’s and bore the mark of their tribe as proof.
“When word of the scandal broke throughout the three realms, Etien couldn’t live with her shame; she threw herself from the tower room into the sea below. The kingdom turned on the fair and just king. A king who could allow such things to happen under his nose without suspicion was not fit to rule. War erupted as clans of the three realms went to battle for the throne.
“Amandan came for his child, his once useless progeny, only now useful for the mark she bore. But when he arrived in the nursery, he found his child missing. In his final heroic act, the king had taken the child, a child he loved as his own, and brought her to the doorway between their world and ours, sending her through the portal before sealing it shut forever and inadvertently banishing his false child to a life of misery. For though the king’s intentions were good, no pure fae child belonged on this side of the veil. Their blood was pure magic and a beacon for supernatural creatures everywhere, creatures who would use her for their own nefarious purposes.”
Ezri fell quiet and Neoma craned her head up to look at the girl. “But what happened to the little girl? What happened to the king? What happened to the fool?”
Ezri smiled. “Neoma, that little girl is you. You are Sorla Morganach, the false heir to the Ohrenthral court.”
Neoma felt a heaviness in her chest. “My real parents were liars and murderers.”
“That’s who they were…that’s not who you are. The King saw you for who you were. He risked everything to save you.”
“How do you know all this.”
“My mother was a witch. Your story is well documented in the Grove’s archives. They’ve been looking for you for years, but there was no way to know which door he sent you through. You were out there alone for seven months before Wren found you. Nobody knows how you survived. You just…did. Alis recognized the symbol as a fae clan, but my mother knew the whole story, a story which she lied about to get your father to keep you.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother realized your true value. She thought that Cathal might one day reclaim the throne and the window might reopen, and if that was to happen, you were her golden ticket into the fae world. She didn’t know that Cain wanted to sell your blood and nothing she did, short of killing him, would stop him. She tried to make it as painless as possible. She’d feed you a tea to make you sleep; she’d take your blood, hide your scar and you’d never know. It was only after my mother died that Dylan became involved.”
Neoma tried to speak, but everything grew hazy, just as before and then she was back in the living room, swaying as she tried to reorient herself. The first faces she saw were Tristin, Kai and Quinn’s. They stared at her, mouths gaping.
Finally, Oggie cleared his throat. “Why don’t you kids go upstairs and give the adults a few minutes to talk.”
Rhys had been completely silent up until that moment, his face contorted. “But why? We already know everything. Shouldn’t we know the plan?”
“This isn’t personal. That creature is squatting in Neoma’s head. She’s pulled each of you in at least once. If you know the plan, there’s a very good chance that she’ll know the plan. It’s best you let the adults chat.”
Neoma didn’t want anybody else fighting over her. “It’s okay. Let’s go upstairs. I don’t think I want to know anymore anyway.”
As she stood, Wren snagged her hand. “Listen. Ezri was right. Just because your parents weren’t good people, doesn’t mean you’re not. In fact, you’re pretty close to perfect.”
Neoma nodded giving no indication of the voice that echoed
in her head.
You’ll never be free, little fae. The supernatural world will hunt you for the rest of your days. You endanger everyone of them just by existing in this world. The best thing you could do for them is die.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rhys
Rhys took the others to his room. He didn’t know what else to do. It was like they’d come from a funeral. Everybody was emitting this strange aura of fear and shock. Neoma was oozing sadness out of every pore. It was driving his wolf insane. It was too close to the full moon. His wolf wanted to break free, wanted Rhys to give up control so it could keep watch over the others.
Nobody spoke. What were they going to say? Being a pureblood was probably the worst possible thing you could be in the supernatural world. The Grove wanted to imprison you. The witches wanted to bleed you. Supernatural creatures of every sort tended to gravitate towards you like a beacon. Truthfully, it wasn’t that much different from being a resident of Belle Haven.
As soon as they’d entered the room, Neoma had placed her hand on the wall beside his door, like she was feeling for…something. Rhys sat on his bed, snagging the small navy blue and gray pillow that lived smashed between his other real pillows, clutching it to his chest. The twins collapsed onto the floor with Quinn, who snagged Rhys’s math textbook, thumbing through it like he just needed to keep busy.
Neoma didn’t move at first. She just stood, hand on the wall, a vacant expression on her face. Then she began to walk, slowly, carefully, circling the room, fingertips never leaving the wall. When she reached Rhys’s bed, she only stepped onto his mattress, walked the length and then stepped down on the other side. She didn’t acknowledge the others in any way. Rhys wasn’t even sure she knew the others were even still there. She just kept walking. Maybe she was having some kind of breakdown. He wouldn’t blame her if she were.
“Who’s she talking to,” Tristin whispered, narrowing her eyes at the girl.
Rhys just shrugged. Neoma wasn’t talking to anybody. No actual words were coming out, but her lips moved like she was in a silent movie. A strange shiver of unease rolled over him.
On the second pass, Quinn set down the textbook, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s she doing?” he asked hesitantly.
Kai shrugged, again looking to Rhys before saying, “I honestly have no idea.”
“She’s freaking me out,” Tristin whispered.
When she stepped onto the bed the third time, Quinn scrunched up his face, eyes closing like the day they were in the woods, like he was trying to recall some information just out of reach. Just as Neoma’s hand was about to land back at the beginning, Quinn’s eyes flew open. “No! Stop her.”
Rhys tried, but it was too late. He didn’t know what Neoma had done, but he felt that pulse, that wave of magic that makes a person feel like they are in a vacuum, ears popping, the staticky smell that happens after a lightning strike. The energy of a spell completed.
Tristin looked around, fear creeping into her voice. “What just happened?”
Quinn was staring at Neoma like she was a monster, face contorted. “A barrier spell. Three full circles widdershins—counter-clockwise.” He said, almost as an afterthought.
“What does that mean, Quinn?” Tristin asked.
“It means we’re trapped in here.”
Rhys scoffed. “What?” He walked to the door, turning the handle. Nothing. It wouldn’t budge. He yanked on the door, rattling it on its hinges but nothing happened. He banged with his fists, yelling. There was no sound of quickening heartbeats. No sound of five adults running to their rescue.
There was no sound at all.
Tristin made a distressed sound as she looked to Neoma who stood in the center of the room, arms extended, palm out, staring at the ceiling. “What is she doing?”
Neoma looked straight at Tristin, her left hand snapping closed tightly.
Tristin exhaled like somebody had ripped the air from her lungs, clawing at her chest. “I can’t breathe,” she gasped.
Kai crawled towards his sister. “Tristin, what’s happening?”
Neoma’s head listed to the right as her right hand shut and Tristin screamed, the hands that were clawing her chest, moving to cover her ears. The adults had to hear that. Isa had to hear Neoma’s screaming. But nobody came.
“Make it stop. Oh, God. Please. Make it stop!” Tristin was rocking, mouth contorting as she clutched at her ears, tears rolling down her cheeks.
But it didn’t stop. He had no idea how to help Tristin. Her eyes looked bloodshot, and there was blood rolling down her throat, but Rhys couldn’t tell if it was from her nails or whatever was attacking her. “Grab her arms before she really hurts herself.”
All they could do was try to hold her arms and legs to keep her from tearing at her skin as she thrashed against them, screaming loud enough to call Rhys’s wolf to the surface. There was no fighting his shift, his claws extending, bones shifting under his skin as his teeth broke the surface of his gums. Kai and Quinn exchanged worried glances but said nothing, doubling their efforts to keep Tristin still as Rhys let go. He couldn’t risk cutting her. He looked to Neoma, who still stared straight ahead, pupils dilated, head lolling on her shoulders like a broken doll and one thought echoing on repeat in his head…they were all going to die in there.
Neoma opened her palms. Tristin’s body went limp, her head falling against Kai’s arm as she gave a sharp sob, clearly still reeling from the attack. Neoma’s head snapped upright, blank expression morphing into one of terror, her chin quivering as she whimpered. “I didn’t do that,” she whispered. “That wasn’t me.”
“Neoma, what’s happening?” Rhys asked.
She looked to Tristin, now curled on her side. “She wants you to bring me to the stones. All of you. She says if you don’t, she’s going to take turns torturing each of you until you do. She says I’m hers.”
“Why is she doing this?” Quinn asked, petting his hands through Tristin’s sweaty hair. “What does she want?”
Neoma looked miserable. “Me. She just wants me.”
Rhys growled low. “She can’t have you.”
Tristin groaned, curling into the fetal position, guarding her stomach. “No, no. Please, no more.”
“She’s not going to stop, and she’s not going away. Just take me to her, and she’ll let you go.” Kai and Rhys exchanged worried glances, but Neoma wasn’t finished. “She says you have sixty seconds before she starts melting Tristin’s insides.”
Rhys didn’t know what to do. He didn’t get what she was trying to prove. She didn’t need them to bring Neoma to her. She clearly could get to her and them anytime she wanted. So, what was her end game? What did she want with them?
Neoma started counting. “Ten, nine, eight…”
Rhys hated this feeling of helplessness. What was he supposed to say? “Fine. We’ll do it,” he snapped, claws biting into his palms as he fought the rage coursing through him.
“But we can’t just hand over Neoma. She’ll kill her,” Quinn said.
Neoma looked to Quinn. “You need to let me go.”
They all looked at Neoma like she was crazy. “What?” Tristin whispered.
“When we get there, you need to let her have me. If I’m dead, this whole thing is over. Cain can’t sell my blood. The Grove won’t try to take me away. The draugen will move on, and the rest of you are safe. I was never supposed to be in your world.”
Rhys shook his head. “Neoma, that’s not true. None of what you’re saying is true. You’re supposed to be here. We’ll figure all the other stuff out later. It’s going to be fine.”
Neoma shivered. “Just take me to the stones…and go.”
Rhys had no intention of doing that. There was no way he was going to leave her to die but what Oggie said earlier was right. The worst thing he could do was tell Neoma his plan. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“What? No!” Kai and Tristin said together.
Rhys held up his hand, giving each of them a long look. “It has to be this way. If this is what she wants…then we’ll do it.” They each looked at him cryptically but nodded. “You guys need to go get dressed, quietly. We’ll meet in Tristin’s room in ten minutes. Go.”
They each stood. Kai carefully helped Tristin to her feet. Quinn tested the door knob timidly. It turned without issue.
When the others left, Rhys opened his closet, shoving his legs into his baggiest jeans and snagging his blue flannel shirt off the hanger. He dropped to his knees, rifling through the clothing littering the floor and displacing his shoes until his hands closed around what he was looking for, a thin oversized nylon bag.
There used to be tons of them lying around the house. Isa had used the bags for a promotion at the restaurant last year. There was nothing particularly interesting about the bag. It was black with the restaurant’s logo in yellow and two little strings that allowed you to cinch it closed and wear it like a backpack. Rhys couldn’t imagine ever using such a thing, so he’d thrown it in the closet, where it sat forgotten, sitting among his Star Wars collectibles and dirty clothes until just then.
He grabbed the bag and the shirt and headed towards his sister’s room, sneaking along the hallway like a criminal. He turned the knob on her door slowly, opening it an inch at a time before easing inside. One misstep could spell disaster. The item he needed lay at the very back of Isa’s closet, on the top shelf. If it was still there. He prayed it was still there.
He made it into Isa’s room and then into her closet without doing anything stupid like tripping over a shoe or knocking over her hamper. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he saw the long, intricate wooden box on the top shelf. It was still there. He stood on tip-toe and winced as he slipped it carefully from its home, walking it to the bed before he opened it.
