by Wendi Wilson
We all nodded and got comfortable. Shaela, Charles, and I took seats on the floor and let the adults take the chairs. A touch of frustration sparked through me, urging me to demand we put this conversation off and get back to planning our rescue of Easton. I brushed it off, though. I had a strong feeling this story was going to have an impact on me, as well as our entire plan.
“When I first met Alwyn Jameson, I was young and a bit silly, and he was the most handsome Sylph I’d ever seen. I thought it was love at first sight,” Freya said.
As much as I hated to admit it, I could see how she’d believe that. Easton was pretty much a clone of his father. And hadn’t I felt a spark the moment I laid eyes on him?
“He courted me in high fashion,” she continued, “bringing me flowers and trinkets, spewing pretty words that made my heart flutter. I was a fool in love, so when he proposed, I did not hesitate to accept. My father warned me that it was too soon. I should have listened.”
“Finn didn’t approve?” Mom asked.
Freya’s bitter laugh echoed around us before she answered, “It’s ridiculous, right? My father could taste emotions and sort out people’s true feelings and motives, yet I decided to ignore him. I convinced myself he was just being overprotective and, like any father, didn’t want to let his daughter go.”
“What happened after you were married?” Dad asked, nudging Freya to continue her story.
“Alwyn continued to be a loving mate. Any negative feelings or darker impulses were buried deep under his charming façade, and any small clues I may have noticed about his true nature were attributed to him simply having a bad day. And then, Easton was born.”
Freya’s eyes darted to me, and she smiled as the fond memory brought tears to her eyes.
“He was the most beautiful baby. And so calm. The only time he ever cried was when Alwyn tried to hold him.”
“Smart baby,” Shaela muttered.
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but Alwyn hated Easton the moment he drew first breath. He saw him as competition, both for my attention and his eventual claim to the throne. Easton’s obvious distrust of him, even as an infant, only served to fan the flames of Alwyn’s hatred.”
“But he was just a baby,” Mom gasped, horror written all over her face.
Dad reached over and squeezed her shoulder. My mother thought I’d died at birth, and she’d been devastated. So it made sense that someone, anyone hating their own child would sicken her.
Freya nodded, saying, “And perhaps, if Alwyn had felt even a spark of affection for me, things would have been different.”
Her eyes glassed over as she stared at the floor, lost in thought. We all sat in silence, letting her grieve for the loss of her youthful exuberance and her dreams for a happy family. She blinked and looked back up, a sad smile pinching her lips.
“It quickly became obvious that he did not love me and never had. He obsessed over the state of the kingdom, as he liked to say, and all the mistakes my father was making on a daily basis. I defended Father, of course, and Alwyn always backed down…until he didn’t.”
“What happened?” I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.
“He threatened to kill our baby.”
The room erupted into chaos, shocked gasps and shouts of denial filling the space. Freya waited until we’d calmed ourselves before continuing with her story.
“One evening when Easton was about four years old, Alwyn came home ranting about some executive decision my father had made that he disagreed with. I stupidly tried to point out the practicality of Father’s choice, and Alwyn lost his temper, as usual.
“But that time was different. He decided to end the façade. With hatred in his eyes and malice in his words, he made his real feelings known. He never loved me. He never even liked me. He only married me for a chance to rule the kingdom through me. That’s when he threatened Easton.”
She paused for a moment, blinking out a few tears as she sniffed delicately.
“I’ll never forget what he said,” she said, then quoted Alwyn’s words. “The only things standing between me and the throne are that boy and Finn Oberon. I would be better off if they were both dead.”
“What did you do?” I asked, horror racing through me at the implications.
“I did what any mother would do…I protected my son.”
“How?” Shaela asked when Freya didn’t continue.
“I sent him away,” Freya answered, her face twisting with grief. “Then I abdicated so Alwyn could never rule through me. I knew that once my father retired or passed on, and I became queen, Alwyn would kill me and Easton to keep his power. So I took myself out of the running and, effectively, my husband as well. He was not happy.
“But Easton was safe with my father and that’s what really mattered. Then I Glamoured Alwyn to think it was his idea to send our son away. His mind and his power are much weaker than mine, so it was easy to fool him.” Her lips turned up into a smirk for a moment before dropping. “I stayed away from my son to protect him. I let Alwyn believe he was in control, even cowered in his presence, to give him the satisfaction and sense of power he craved so he would leave Easton alone.”
“Excuse me, Freya,” Charles interjected, “but why couldn’t you just Glamour him to not hurt Easton?”
“Oh, I did for a short while. But it wouldn’t work, long-term. Alwyn’s hatred ran too deep. His true feelings kept pushing through the magic, and it got to the point where I was living in constant fear that he’d break free of the Glamour when I wasn’t around and hurt Easton.”
“And you took that hatred all on yourself. Easton told me about the degrading punishments Alwyn liked to dole out,” I added.
“Actually, those things never happened,” she said, her voice sad. “But I had to Glamour Alwyn to believe they had, so that his irrational ire would be satisfied. So he wouldn’t turn his malicious intentions on our child. It broke my heart when Easton was old enough to understand, and Alwyn rubbed my punishments in his face. Though I was never there to see it, I was sure Easton was disgusted with me.”
“No, he wasn’t,” I clarified. “When he finally told me about your situation, there was nothing but anger toward his father and fear for you.”
“I was very impressed when you stood up to Alwyn,” Freya said, her frown turning into a soft smile. “He came home ranting about the half-breed our son had taken up with, saying you’d be Easton’s downfall, but he didn’t use his anger against me. He didn’t try to enact some punishment that I’d have to stop, then Glamour him into believing he’d actually done it. So I used my magic to extract the truth from him and got the whole story. That’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?” Shaela asked when Freya didn’t continue.
She looked at my best friend and said, “I knew December Thorne was the best thing that could have happened to my son.” Her gaze chased back to me. “He had someone who truly loved him. Selflessly. Without fear. Without judgment. With a whole and pure heart.”
My attempt to stop the tears was futile as my eyes blurred with water before they spilled down my cheeks. She was so selfless, keeping herself away from her son to protect him. Living a miserable life with Alwyn so he wouldn’t retaliate against the ones she loved. It was her heart that was pure.
“Anyway,” she said, laughing through her own tears, “Alwyn was too afraid to give me his usual punishments, but he was still the same arrogant bastard. When my father fell ill, he had the gall to forbid me from coming. I nearly lost it and let loose with the truth. I almost blurted that he’d never controlled me and wasn’t going to start now, but I managed to restrain myself. I Glamoured him to want to come here, made him think it was his idea to bring me—that it would look bad if I didn’t show up to attend my bedridden father.
“And while I may have lost all reason when my father passed,” she croaked out, “I am not weak. Nor am I useless. You will save my son. And I will help you. Leave my husband to me.”
Chapt
er One Hundred Thirty-One
33
Getting out of the academy was absurdly easy.
Freya must have used some heavy duty Glamour, because Alwyn sought me out in my room and begged me to go after Sebille and save his son. I was sure it was some sort of trick, but when I outright questioned his motives, he burst into tears and fell to his knees.
Freya flew into the room and dropped down beside him, her pleading words joining his as she held his hand tightly in hers. When Alwyn bent his head, eyes closed, and promised me anything I wanted in return for retrieving his only child, I looked at Freya.
One side of her mouth cocked up and she shot me a wink before she began to wail like a madwoman. Shaela, who sat on her bed behind them, stifled a giggle behind her hand, drawing my attention away from the pair prostrated before me. I rolled my eyes at her, then refocused on our so-called king.
“I will do it,” I said. “But you must relinquish the throne and have him reinstated as king when we return.”
Alwyn’s eyes widened and seemed to clear, and my heart stopped as I realized I went too far.
“Relinquish the throne?” he sneered. “Never.”
“Just agree to it, dear. Only she can save Easton. We need her to bring our boys home.”
As Freya said those words, his eyes glazed back over. The tears began to pour again and he nodded frantically.
Wow. Her Glamour is strong, I thought.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Anything for our son.”
Freya’s eyes shot toward the door, ordering me to go. I nodded, hoping she could read the gratitude in my expression. I waved at Shaela to follow and we ran from the room.
“We need to hurry and gather the others. There’s no telling how much longer Freya can keep him under her Glamour. We need to be gone before he breaks free,” I said as we hurried down the hallway.
“I’ll go grab Charles,” she said, “and we’ll meet you in your parents’ room.”
I ran the rest of the way by myself and rapped my knuckles against the door. Luckily, they were both there, and I didn’t have to waste time looking for them. By the time I finished explaining what happened to Mom and Dad, Shaela and Charles had arrived. Shaela must’ve given him a rundown, because the expression on his face was an equal mix of determination and excitement.
We left the academy together, walking right out the front door with no one even attempting to stop us. As we headed across the lawn toward the woods, I shook my head in admiration for Freya’s badassery.
I’d be sure to never underestimate her again.
Once we felt we were sufficiently hidden inside the trees, we stopped and went over the plan one last time. One-by-one, we popped out our wings and rose through the branches. The sky above the treetops was darkening, and streaks of pink and purple signaled the final descent of the sun.
Shaela, Charles, and Mom Glamoured their hair and wings to appear black as we flew. If any humans were outside, seeing a group of Fae with colorful wings and blonde hair would definitely raise alarm, and word would quickly get back to Sebille. Seeing a few Zephyrs, while not commonplace, would barely raise a few brows. If we didn’t see them and Glamour them to forget, all hell would break loose.
Humans were used to seeing Zephyrs, but had no clue that Sylphs even existed. And, for now, we needed to keep it that way.
We needed our arrival at the queen’s stronghold to be a surprise. Easton’s life could depend upon it.
The city looked strangely deserted. I didn’t see any people roaming the streets and all the businesses seemed to be closed.
And it was dark.
Hardly any lights gleamed in the darkness, and the ones I could see were flickering through a few windows, like candles in a breeze. I wondered if the city had lost power completely, but that theory was quashed when the queen’s tower came into view.
Light streamed out from windows on every floor, and the penthouse was shining like a beacon in the night. I fought the urge to flap my wings harder and fly straight for those illuminated glass panels. Though I was impatient to face Sebille and get Easton back, I needed to stick to the plan.
I followed my father as he lowered himself into the shadows a few blocks away from the tower. The others landed just after us, and we huddled in a deserted alley, preparing ourselves for the fight to come.
We didn’t waste any time. We’d gone over the plan enough times that we each knew our roles. There was no need to go over it again, especially when anyone could be hiding nearby to overhear.
Charles, Shaela, Mom, and Dad popped in their wings and Glamoured themselves to look human. They each shrunk themselves a few inches, since humans were generally much shorter than the Fae, and made themselves appear overly skinny.
All I had to do was make my eyes black and make sure my wings were not shimmering with their usual streaks of color. It was highly unlikely anyone would make out the colors in the dark, but I didn’t want to take any chances. The stripes of shimmering colors were uniquely mine, and if any Zephyrs noticed them, the jig would be up.
We left the alleyway and slipped through the city like wraiths in the night. We saw no one—human or Zephyr—but none of us let our guards down for even a second. Our mission was too important. Our objective too precious.
The ease of our trip through the darkened streets made me even more nervous. When things seemed too simple, it usually meant a trap had been sprung. At least, that’s the way it had been in my experience.
And Sebille had gained the upper-hand against me more than once.
But even the trepidation of being snared in one of her traps was not going to stop me. If she was waiting for us somewhere along the way, so be it.
I’d face anything, anywhere to save Easton. And so would the others.
Whether by blood or by commitment, we were all family. And family came first.
Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Two
34
“Are you freaking kidding me right now?”
Shaela’s words matched my own thoughts as we peeked around the corner to see a few dozen Zephyrs milling around the front of the tower. Their eyes were darting back and forth as they peered into the darkness, looking for something.
And I was pretty sure I knew what that something was.
Me.
My heart thumped in my chest as Sebille stepped through the glass doors that led into the building. Her black leather jacket swirled around her as she began shouting at the Zephyrs that surrounded her.
“Well? Anything?”
“I’m sorry Your Highness. No sign of them, yet,” a man in uniform called back.
“Well, I have it on good authority that they’re coming. When they arrive, bring me the girl. Alive. You and your men can have your fun with the rest.”
“What about the prince, Your Highness?”
Sebille’s face twisted into a hateful snarl as a growl ripped from her throat.
“I no longer have a son. If you see Crispin, kill him on sight.”
She turned and strode back inside, the glass doors swinging shut behind her. I pulled back into the shadows and met the wide-eyed stares of the others with a stunned look of my own.
“How does she know?” Shaela hissed, making sure to keep her voice at a whisper.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled.
“You don’t think…Freya?” Mom offered.
“What? No. No way,” I insisted.
“She was the only person who knew we were coming here,” Charles stated, his voice wary like he was trying to tread lightly.
I started shaking my head before he even finished.
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t her. Freya is Easton’s mom, and she loves him. She wants him back, and there’s no way she’s helping Sebille.”
“It does seem unlikely,” Dad said, and relief shot through me.
I wanted to believe in Freya and the love she held for her only child. If everyone agreed that she’d given us up to Sebille, I might’ve started to doubt every
thing I thought I knew, including my reasons for putting myself in danger. If Freya’s love for her son wasn’t real, was any love real?
“Cris and December are right,” Mom said, pulling me from my chaotic thoughts. “There is no way Freya was pretending. She helped us. It had to have been someone else.”
“Alwyn knows,” Shaela said. “He could have broken free of her Glamour. But I can’t really see him calling Sebille up on the phone to give her inside information. Their supposed to be enemies.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I declared, slicing a hand through the air. “Regardless of who’s helping her, she knows we’re coming. And her knowing doesn’t change the fact that we still have to go in there and get Easton. It only changes the method.”
I said those final words with an apologetic look, and as soon as the last word passed my lips, I jumped out of the alley and popped my wings out. As the others shouted my name, I bent my knees and pushed off, flying straight for the enemy.
Shouts rang out behind me, but I pushed on, knowing they would follow. There would be no sneaking in to extract Easton, and I knew my parents would push me to put off the mission. They’d want to come another day. To delay until we were sure Sebille would be surprised.
And I couldn’t let that happen. I needed to end this. Now.
I burst from the shadows and planted my feet firmly on the ground. A Zephyr soldier noticed me and opened his mouth to shout a warning, but I sent a blast of wind straight for him, knocking him off balance. He stumbled back a few steps, and I took those precious few seconds to focus.
An ice spear formed in my hand, solid and deadly, with a sharp point at one end. Without giving myself a chance to reconsider, I reared back and let it fly. I watched, mesmerized, as it tumbled end over end through the air, heading straight for my intended target.
Footsteps thudded to the ground behind me, and I knew my group had arrived. They were going to witness this man’s death, and know that I killed him. Would they think me—