Throne of Embers: A Reverse Harem PNR (Beautiful Secrets Book 3)

by Marie Robinson

  He spun back around and began skipping through the grass, strange winged creatures flying up and away like startled birds. Romulus and I shared a look. This place would be enough to drive anyone mad, it seemed.

  But more importantly? My mother was alive and I was about to see her for the first time since I was a child.

  Chapter 5

  Eleanora

  It was as if my heart beat in time with Kaden’s steps. It pounded in my throat, nearly drowning out Master Puck’s continuous monologue. From what I could absorb, it was just a rambling discourse of observations and opinions on the mortal realm. Romulus seemed to slowly relax, huffing a laugh at the occasional crass quip from the fae.

  But all I could think about was that each step took me closer to my mother. I didn’t want to meet her; I wanted to beg the horse to turn back and take me to the other side. Kaden must have sensed my nerves as he shot a look over his shoulder at me.

  :Child of Suanach Aoife, what distresses you?:

  I whipped my head around, looking for the voice, before I rolled my eyes. Kaden, of course. Master Puck looked over Romulus’s head as if he knew Kaden had spoken, but carried on merrily, ignoring us.

  :Simply think your response and I shall hear: Kaden shook his head, his mane sparkling in the sunlight.

  :You’re very beautiful: I thought before blushing, realizing he’d hear me, but it was true.

  I could feel him add a bit of a prance to his step. He gave me another moment to gather my thoughts. :I am afraid of meeting my mother. I have not seen her for a very long time. What if she didn’t want me?:

  No one wanted to learn their mother didn’t want them.

  :I know some about the forces which drove your mother to our lands,: he started. :When so many pieces are in play, sometimes it is better to seek refuge at great personal cost. Perhaps she believed it best to protect you this way?:

  I chewed on my lower lip in thought. It was so selfish of me to want to demand answers, but I didn’t really care. I deserved to know why she would leave me behind, knowing what I was—what I had inherited from her. All my memories of her were happy ones. I believed she loved me, so why would she have just . . . left me?

  It was terrible, is what it was.

  The sun reflected off of Romulus’s hair, the copper waves elevated into a more opulent red. It was as if everything in this world was elevated, bolder, more intense. I let my eyes rest on the familiar presence in the strange world, my anchor. Even if I learned my mother never loved me, I would have him. And Brom, and Merlin.

  I knew it would never fully replace the hole that would reappear, but it would soothe the ache at least.

  The lycan must have felt my gaze as he turned his face upwards to look at me, an easy grin on his face. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and hide from the world—both worlds—just for a minute. I wanted a break from the chaos and danger and fear. I almost longed for the mundane suffering I had as a servant to my stepmother.

  He was about to say something when Master Puck had announced we were arriving. We both looked ahead of us to see where the narrow path led.

  There was a gathering of brightly painted caravans at the end of the trail. The trail expanded into an enormous circle of short grass; taller grass sprouted up at the edge of the circle like a natural fence line. The caravans lined the circumference of the circle, with a blazing fire in the center. It was set up in such a way that I imagined from above, it looked like a beautiful, magical eye.

  I squared my shoulders, determined to meet my mother with courage. Romulus placed a hand on my thigh, and I shot him a grateful look. Just because I mustered up the required courage didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful for the lycan at my side.

  Our group fell into silence as we approached the caravans. I didn’t see anyone out and I let myself study the wagons.

  Did my mother live in one of these? If so, was it the dark stained wagon with brilliant roses painted on the side? Its flowers were so realistic, it looked as if the thorns would draw blood and the blossoms would smell sweet. Or perhaps she lived in the canary yellow one, with the brightly colored birds in midflight? Or the pine colored one, with a herd of wild horses racing along the length of it, their manes whipping behind them?

  As we crossed into the circle, it felt as if stepping through a veil. Where there was no one before, the area was full of life. I gasped, unable to help my surprise, as a group of children ran past us, laughing. One trailed behind to look at us, a girl with long golden hair and emerald eyes and, I noticed, pointed ears. She waved to Master Puck, who bowed deeply in return, much to her amusement. She looked over the rest of us, and I swore her eyes lingered on me a moment longer, but then she ran to join the other children in their new game.

  The adults, or the ones who looked like adults at least, and human, greeted Master Puck and Kaden with hearty shouts and waves. Their smiles faltered when they looked at Romulus and me, though. It wasn’t encouraging.

  We were halfway across the clearing; it was so much bigger than it had appeared—a multitude of caravans instead of the handful we had seen from afar. I wondered about that and Kaden supplied an answer.

  :Even in this land, there are dangers. Protections are always necessary:

  I shivered as his words were heavy with memories—brief glances of dangerous fae—and again I wondered if there was nowhere safe in the world for magical people and creatures.

  The door of a caravan painted to resemble the setting sun opened and a woman with dark hair, which fell around her shoulders in soft waves, leaned out.

  “Master Puck!” she cried out, a wide grin on her face. My heart stilled and I couldn’t breathe. I knew that voice. It was the voice of years past, of soft lullabies, of sweet kisses, and bedtime stories. It was a good thing I still rode Kaden, as otherwise I’d be rooted to the ground. She stepped fully out of her caravan and I drank her in, all the terror at meeting my mother gone.

  “What are you doing here in Brookshire?” She asked, tying her hair back. I drank her in, committing every part of her to my memory. She wore a blue dress that sat loose around her shoulders and swished around her knees before stopping a few inches above the ground. It was embroidered, simple white swirls around the hems. She’d pushed up the sleeves to her elbows, and she was untying a white apron, tossing it back into her caravan. I noticed, too, the sturdy shoes she wore.

  She was the total opposite of Madam Jupiter and I felt tears form in my eyes. This was the mother I would have flourished under. I forced myself to look at her face, and I realized I got my eyes from her. . . they were nearly my twin. Or, well, mine were the twin to hers. To my shock, I saw very little sign of age on her. She could be my sister, for all the world could guess.

  “I’ve brought you someone.” Master Puck jerked his head towards me and I swallowed hard as she looked curiously at me. I dropped my eyes, unable to stand the scrutiny, and instead looked at Romulus.

  He was watching me. The care and understanding in his eyes felt like an embrace, and I reached out for him. He helped me off of Kaden and settled his hands on my waist.

  “You’ve got this, lass,” he whispered and kissed me on the forehead. I wondered what she thought of me, hiding my face. I doubted she recognized me from my eyes alone.

  I nodded, taking a breath to steel myself, before I turned back towards her as Romulus stepped back.

  She had taken the three steps down off the wagon, a questioning but easy smile on her face.

  “I’ve not had a visitor since my husband,” she spoke, and I realized my father had known where she was. She stopped a few feet from me, a polite distance away, I noted. “Did Thaddius send you?”

  Dammit, this was hard. I made myself look her in the eyes, hers were as blue as mine, and I swear it was the bravest thing I’d ever done.

  “No,” I answered, and had to swallow as my throat had gone dry. She didn’t know he had died. “He died, twelve years ago or so now.”

  Her hands flew to her mouth
and I winced. I could have probably revealed that a bit kinder.

  “Twelve years...” she breathed out, her eyes brimming with tears. She closed her eyes, the quiet tears spilling onto her cheeks before she dashed them away. She sniffed hard and wiped her hands on her dress, her eyes hardening against the pain. I felt my lips turning up in a soft smile—I added strength to the list of things I had inherited from my mother. “So,” she continued, her voice hardly wobbling, but I could hear the familiar strain. She crossed her arms over her chest, not entirely unaffected. “What can I do for you then?”

  This was the moment I reveal my heritage, and yet I couldn’t find the words. I was floundering, and she was staring at me as if I could turn into a newt at any moment.

  :Believe, child of the flame.: Kaden’s voice was a lifeline in the torrent I’d found myself drowning in. His words were infused with faith and courage. I met her eyes once more, clinging to the small shred of hope within me. My chin quivered and I felt my hands grow clammy. I was also willing to place money on the fact that my legs were likely shaking. But I had to believe my mother had a good reason to leave. That my father had good reason to keep me away. I had to believe she would trust that I was who I claimed. I took a deep breath and spoke the words that I never thought I’d say, the words that had the power to break my heart, to cause a wound that I’d never recover from.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  Chapter 6

  Eleanora

  It felt like everything froze the moment the words left my mouth. My mother’s stare went from determined, to disbelief, before something that I wanted to be hope. She took a step forward, reaching out hesitantly before snapping her hand back as if she dare not hope too much.

  “Ella?” she whispered, and it broke me. I let out a sob and threw myself towards her as she opened her arms. She hugged me tightly, her familiar scent surrounding me, and I cried into her shoulders, uncaring of the mess I was making of my veil. “Oh my dear Eleanora.” She was crying too, holding me with a desperation that matched my own. She rocked us as we cried, clinging to each other.

  Master Puck cleared his throat pointedly and she pulled her head back, but didn’t let go of me.

  “Maybe you should take this inside?” The fae suggested, and I looked over my shoulder at him. He clapped Romulus on the shoulder. “Me and the lycan will avail ourselves of Mrs. Sarin’s hospitality. Kaden, you’re welcome to join us, of course.”

  Romulus stepped forward and reached for my hand. I let go of my mother, though I was loath to do so, so I could take it. “You’ll be alright?”

  I gave his hand a squeeze and cleared my throat. “I think so.”

  He brought my hand to his lips and then turned to leave with Master Puck and Kaden on either side of him.

  My mother let go of me, her hands trailing down my arm as if she were reluctant to do so. In fact, she grabbed my other hand, and happiness washed through me. I looked back to her and her eyes traveled over my veil and quickly looked at the retreating lycan.

  “You must have much to tell me,” she said with a knowing tone. But then her face grew sad and she nodded towards her caravan. “Shall we?”

  I had never been in a caravan wagon before, and the interior was incredibly charming. The door led into a small area with a short bench on one side and a small closet on the opposite. I could see nearly the whole thing from the doorway, at least up until the dark blue curtains blocking off what I suspected was the bedroom. My mother busied herself filling a small tea pot and setting it on a stove before opening the iron grate and poking at the coals within. My eyes went wide as I saw her put her entire hand in there, coaxing the flames back to life. She closed it with satisfaction and gestured to the small bench table.

  “You control it with so much ease,” I said, in awe of her. All of my questions, for the moment at least, were dropped in favor of her control.

  “It’s easier here,” she said, the words heavy with implication. She sat across from me and reached out her hands. I immediately put my hands in hers, and she turned them over to study my palms. She dragged her index finger down one line, humming in thought. “I wish I had my tarot cards,” she muttered.

  “The deck of shadows?” I asked, and her eyes snapped to mine.

  “You’ve seen them?”

  I nodded. “I have them with me. . . Well, Romulus does. The Oracle—”

  “You’ve met with them?” She interrupted me, her eyebrows snapping together so hard I wondered how she didn’t get a headache. “What did they tell you? Did they do a reading? What did you ask them?”

  “I asked what they would tell me,” I answered slowly, and I saw her lip tilt upward in a hint of a smile. “They told me that none may flee from love or death. And I’m not sure if they did a full reading, but they did ask me to choose a card.”

  My mother’s grip tightened on my hand, fear in her eyes. “And what card did you draw?”

  My stomach churned, ice filling me, as I felt myself shudder. I couldn’t bear to look at her as I answered.

  “Death,” I whispered.

  “Oh thank the mother goddess,” she said in a sigh. I looked back at her, my confusion clearly evident in the little the veil revealed of my face. She cocked her head in understanding. “Death is not a grim card, daughter. It is one that is very close to us with the phoenix in our core. Many who do not study the tarot believe Death to be, well, death. Finite. The end. But what the card truly represents is rebirth. Something that our ancestors excel at.”

  Relief rushed through me, because I had thought it meant I would bring death to the world, just as the phoenix wanted.

  “You mean I’m not going to consume the world in fire?” I asked in relief, not really expecting an answer. I pulled my hands away and hid my face in them. The veil bugged me, and I huffed a laugh at how quickly I grew used to not wearing it.

  “Eleanora?” I dropped my hands and saw the wary expression she had. “Why do you hide your face?”

  I balled my fists on the table, my nails biting into my palm, unable to answer right away. Resentment at her leaving returned to me, and I looked out the small window set in the wall. I watched the people—probably all fae now that I thought about it—go about their lives. I tried to answer as dispassionately as I could.

  “I was nine when Dad died.” I fought through the squeeze of my throat to speak. “He was trying to help me.” The kettle began to whistle and she stood to make tea, her back to me. I could feel her attention on me and it was so much easier to explain everything without her in front of me. “My phoenix powers began to manifest, and I struggled for control. He believed that if I inherited the Bediver legacy my warlock magic could help grant me the ability to control the fire.”

  She set down a well-worn ceramic mug, her face shuttered. I relaxed my hands, carefully wrapping them around the hot mug. I watched as color bled from the parchment colored tea bag, dark browns swirling like blood in water. I could feel the heat of the flames from that night once more.

  “He was wrong,” I whispered, my voice wavering. “It made it so much worse. He wouldn’t leave me, though. And the fire—” I choked on a sob, holding the back of my hand to my mouth as I turned my face away as if I could turn away from the memory. But it would always follow me now, the memory of my father’s flesh turning black as he refused to leave.

  “Ella—” She slid off the bench and crouched beside me, reaching out to touch my shoulder. She stopped when I whipped my head towards her.

  “Why?” I croaked, pain and grief tearing at my voice. “Why did you leave me? You could have helped me. He’d still be alive.”

  My mother bowed her head briefly, whether it was from her own guilt or the accusation in my voice, I didn’t know.

  “I told you it was easier to control the phoenix in this world,” she answered at length, looking back up at me. “The struggle you know? I felt it too. Your father knew it, and I knew of the Syndicate’s fears and the desire for my death. It was a complicated and
terrible situation.” She paused, her eyes pinched. “Even when there are no good choices, Ella, you still have to choose.”

  She said the last with such bitterness and regret I knew I had already forgiven her. I reached up and began to undo my veil. She watched me carefully, wary, and I waited for the fear of rejection to appear. But it never came, to my astonishment. Not even when I set the material down on the table and turned my gaze towards her, my expression blank.

  She did not pull back from my scars, and the pity I saw in her eyes was gentle. It was the pity a mother holds for their injured child. Borne out of love and not out of distaste.

  “The phoenix has not been kind to you,” she said as she cupped my face. I leaned into her touch, covering her hand with my own. “I had hoped, by leaving, you would be spared the touch of my flames. But it seems you were caught by your own.”

  “The same night father died,” I answered. “Since then, Madam Jupiter required that I wear a veil. And after I took back the estate, I found it easier.”

  Her eyes narrowed at the name of my stepmother. “Took back the estate?”

  She moved back to her seat and indicated that I remove the tea bag. I did and took a careful sip, the water having cooled enough to drink at last. To my relief, it tasted like the standard black tea. Being the land of the fae, I wasn’t sure what I expected.

  Over the next hour, I told my mother everything that had happened since my father’s death. It was clear that my mother had held no love for Madam Jupiter even before my recount. She asked only a few questions, but otherwise let me tell my history uninterrupted. At least, until I came to the part of Brom, Merlin, and Romulus.