A Matter of Truth (Fate Series 3)

by Heather Lyons

  I force a bright smile upon my face as I finally stop. “There’s no need for an explanation.” Because there isn’t, I tell myself, even though it hurts like hell knowing it to be true.

  It’s Will’s cue to dismiss himself, telling me, “I’ll meet you at home, yeah?”

  Before Kellan can say anything further, I dig deep and cut him off at the pass. “Look. If you haven’t forgotten, I abandoned you—I abandoned everyone. I left Annar and moved away for over half a year. It is completely reasonable that during that time period, you . . .” I force myself to say it, even though it’s shards of glass coming up through my throat, “That you would do whatever you like, with whomever you like, including Sophie.”

  All of his panic transitions to fury. “There is nothing between me and Sophie, Chloe.”

  Two fists reach inside my chest and grip my lungs so hard I can barely get out, “The point is still the same, Kellan.”

  “Why, hello,” his heart says to my dagger that slides so easily into it. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I can’t escape his touch now as he angles us to a nearby alcove. Oh, gods . . . tingles zip up and down my spine, my arms, my chest, my legs—everywhere, everywhere, and it’s like a drug, and I have to yank my arm away lest I relapse in ways I may never recover from. “Why are you doing this?”

  To let you go, I think, even though it breaks my own heart into tiny pieces. And the thing is, Kellan Whitecomb—not so much his actions, but what he means to me, how I feel about him—has always had the ability to render me senseless. I can’t let this be how it is anymore. No matter what, I need to get a grip and act fairly.

  Even still, this moment here hurts more than I can articulate, but I need to do it. He’s nobody’s second best. Not even mine. He’s too wonderful for that.

  And because I’m not hiding anything from him, he must feel this, since he snaps, “Fine. You can think you’re being noble,”—ouch—“or self-sacrificing or whatever the hell you think you’re doing, but I know you. And I need you to understand right now that . . . yes, while you were gone, I found ways to deal with the pain of your loss.” He steps closer to me, viciously twisting the leather band around his wrist. “Gods. She’s relentless. Whatever happened with her, I regret that more than anything. There is nothing between her and me, no matter what she thinks. Nothing. She’s—you can ask Jonah. She’s . . . unbalanced.”

  I’m not surprised to hear he’s slept with other women during my absence. It’s an agony I’m quite familiar with. But the one that hits me out of left field, the one that has me leaning back against the wall, is the thought that maybe Jonah did the same.

  And Kellan must know I’m feeling this way because the hurt in his eyes nearly sends me back to Alaska.

  I whisper words so familiar to the both of us, words that have defined way too much of our relationship together. I tell him I’m sorry.

  He walks me home in silence. I do not offer to have him stay for dinner.

  In the last week, other than talking to Zthane and key members of the Guard, as well as the surprisingly sympathetic pair of Etienne and Mac over tea, I have yet to answer for my actions over the last half-year. A brief phone call from Astrid informed me that the Council is well aware of my return and that they’ve been in contact with the Guard concerning the debriefing I gave upon re-entry. Apparently Karl wasn’t kidding when he said that Zthane was claiming I’d been on a top-secret Elders recon mission in Alaska. So, during one of our daily meetings at Guard HQ, I confront Zthane about this.

  “I’m not afraid to take responsibility for my actions,” I tell him, even though it’s a lie, because of course I’m scared. I’m tired of living in fear, though, tired of always worrying about making the wrong step. If I have to take the hit because I did something wrong, so be it. “And, honestly, it will be all the worse if you’re caught lying about what I’ve done. The Council—”

  “Knows the truth already.” Zthane sighs deeply and leans back in his chair, his fingers tented in front of him. When my eyebrows lift up, he clarifies, “Well, certain people within the Council know—those specifically on the Elders Subcommittee.” His dark eyes flick over to where both Karl and Kellan are sitting. “There was a meeting two nights ago to discuss some of the more relevant aspects of the situation.”

  Huh. Mac mentioned this Subcommittee at tea yesterday, saying he was part of it. But he never mentioned anything else, including that he’d been discussing my case with his—our—peers.

  Giuliana comes into the room, setting a tray of coffee down on the conference table before handing Zthane a dossier.

  I wait until the Elemental’s seated to ask, “Meaning?”

  He pops off the lid to his coffee and pours in a pack of sugar. “Meaning I told them about you and Dane’s escapades in Anchorage, and of the contact you made with the Métis colony. The Subcommittee was quite interested in these aspects and wishes to explore them further.” He recaps the coffee. “Punishing you for the foibles of youth or the whatnot will only distract the Council from the issues at hand. And Chloe, this is not the time for that.”

  I find myself laughing at that. Is this the equivalent of a hand smacking? “Foibles of youth? Is that what we’re calling it?”

  “Is there another term for it?” He re-tents his fingers, the tips pressing up against his lips. “Frankly, you are not the first Magical to do what you’ve done, and most certainly will not be the last.”

  I nearly choke on my own coffee. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you think you are the first of our kind to run screaming for the hills? Or, for that matter, the first Creator?” His smile is tight. “While not every Creator has done so, it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence. Despite what you think, the Council and Guard are keenly aware of the pressures you are under concerning your craft, not to mention your—and I say this with all the love in my heart—age and lack of experience.”

  I pretty much only blink at him in return.

  “Please do not feel as if I’m excusing your actions,” he says, voice cool in the warm afternoon. “Nor are you free to take this as the Guard or Subcommittee I reported to as giving you a free pass, but it will serve all of our purposes far better if we focus on the tasks at hand. That, my dear, is to deal with the Elders, as well as form diplomatic ties with the Métis. I believe you are currently residing with several representatives of the Anchorage colony.”

  I can’t help but look over at Karl. He’s got his poker face on, as does Kellan, who I’ve found out, is now in the upper echelon of Guard management.

  I turn back toward Zthane. “What kind of diplomatic ties?”

  His smile loosens just a tiny bit. “The kind that will begin the long road to recovery between our populations.”

  Will cracks my bedroom door open. “You decent?”

  I shut the file that Zthane sent home with me. “What’s up?”

  He leans against the doorframe and says quietly, “Your mother is here to see you.”

  I sit up on the bed and stare at him, slack jawed. Surely he didn’t just say that my mother was here. My mother told me nearly a year ago that she was siding with my father, that there was to be no more contact between us until I relented and got Jonah to lift the ban he placed on Jens Belladonna. Since I’d rather cut off my legs at the kneecaps than do such a thing, radio silence had filled the space between us.

  I clear my throat. “Astrid?”

  Will frowns. “You mean Dad’s phone buddy? I’m afraid not. This woman introduced herself as Abigail Lilywhite.” He shuts the door behind him and joins me on the bed. “She’s sitting out there with Dad right now, but if you want me to tell her to go to hell, I’ll be glad to do so. But . . . I’ve got to be honest with you—she looks really nervous and a wee bit glum. It’s up to you, though. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

  My mother is here.

  I have no idea how she got here, how she even knew where I was staying, but my mother—Abigail Lilywhit
e—is here.

  My knees wobble when I stand up. “No. I’ll . . . I’ll go talk to her. It’s not your problem.”

  He lays a hand on my shoulder; it’s steady and warm and oh-so-brotherly. “Do you want me and Dad to stay out there with you guys? I’d offer up Erik, too, but he’s down at Guard HQ talking with Zthane. Official Métis business now and all.”

  I tell him no, that I need to do this on my own. But this only has Will reminding me that they’ll be here for me in any way I need them.

  My heart kind of grows twenty sizes in this moment.

  Sitting on the edge of the couch in the living room, holding a cup of tea and petting my dog, is my mother. She looks exactly as I remember her—beautiful and tall, her face devoid of most expressive emotions. When I come into the room, though, she sets the cup down and slowly stands up. Cameron, who’s been sitting across from her, does the same.

  “Hello, Chloe,” my mother says.

  All the moisture in my mouth miraculously disappears. “Mom,” I croak in return.

  Cameron quietly tells my mother it was nice to meet her and excuses himself; on his way out of the room, he pulls me in for a quick hug and kiss, whispering words his son told me just minutes before. And then I’m alone with my mother for the first time in nearly a year.

  “You look thin,” she says, and it’s enough to make me want to laugh bitterly, because it’s what she said during our last meeting, too.

  I uproot my feet and somehow make it across the room to sit down in the space previously occupied by Cameron. She sits down, too, and we let the familiar silence that has defined our relationship for so long fill the space between us.

  I can’t take it, though. Not after everything that’s happened. I break first. “What are you doing here?”

  Her eyes do not stray from the cup of tea she’s reclaimed. “Is it really that surprising that I would want to come and see if my daughter, who has been missing for half a year, is okay?”

  I think prior to today, I might have accepted this comment from her. Built up hope to go with it. I might have let it slide by without much argument. But that girl . . . I left that girl behind. “Actually, yes, considering you and Dad basically disowned me.”

  She winces, and it’s enough to startle me back into my chair. “Chloe . . .” She lets out a long, melancholy sigh and sets the cup back down, untouched. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I know it will not mean much to you, but if I could go back and relive that day, I might do it differently.”

  My unattractive gaping lets her know just how I feel about the sincerity of such a statement.

  She fingers the edge of her blazer as she coolly regards me. “Your hair is different. It’s . . . I think I preferred the brown. This blonde is too brittle for someone like you.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you have to say to me? Just—oh, my bad for treating you, my only daughter, like crap, and by the way your hair sucks?”

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she practically whispers. And it hits me, really hits me, that my mother is sitting in this living room with me and my father is not. My mother, my cold fish of a mother, just actually admitted she’d made a mistake. What did I do in return?

  I acted like a bratty child.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “That was unfair of me.”

  She sucks in a breath and shakes her head before letting it out. “You and I . . .” A wan smile fills out her thin lips. “We are not good at communicating with one another. We never have been. It will take some time to learn how to do it.”

  Is she . . . is she saying what I think she’s saying?

  “These people you’re living with—these nons—”

  I stop this nonsense immediately. “Cameron was married to Molliaria Hellebore; thus, Will is a Métis. No matter what they are or aren’t, I won’t stand for you saying anything bad about them.”

  Her smile tightens. “I was not disparaging them. I was merely saying that I’m glad you are somewhere with people who seem to have your best interest at heart.”

  Oh. My. Gods. Am I asleep? Is this really happening?

  “I will admit I know very little about the situation, but from the small discussion I had with Cameron, his affections toward you were obvious. The same with . . . Will, you said?”

  “I love them,” I tell her. “They took me in and loved me and accepted me.” My voice shakes. “Cameron Dane has been more of a father to me than Noel Lilywhite ever has.”

  I can’t tell if this hurts her or not, as she merely nods her head in acquiescence.

  It hurt to even ask, but I do it anyway. “Where is Dad?”

  “He chose not to come today. He is . . .” She sighs again and smoothes imaginary wrinkles on her slacks. “Your father is who he is. That said, he is aware of where I am. He is also aware that, if he does not approve of my actions and choices, that is his choice, not mine.”

  My mouth drops open.

  “I never had the warmest of relationships with my own mother. It is very probable that I do not have it in me to ever be the mother that you want. But . . .” She leans forward, the ice in her green eyes softening, if even just a teeny fraction. “But I would like the chance to see if I ever could be. I have squandered too many years being selfish rather than being a mother. You’re twenty years old; I can never reclaim that time. I can only ask that, from this moment forth, you give me a chance to try to get to know you, and for you to get to know me. It should never take a mother nearly losing her child to make her realize just how precious that person is to them.”

  I pull my hair back and study her. Really study her. She seems . . . sincere.

  Rome wasn’t built in a day.

  I blink tears that threaten to overwhelm me back. “No promises.”

  She lets hers fall—just a few, but it’s enough to crack the ice around my heart. “That’s good enough for me.”

  When she leaves a quarter of an hour later, we hug. It’s awkward as all hell and short, but it’s a hug. And then I ask her a question that’s been on my mind since I first found out she was sitting in my living room. I ask her how she knew where I was.

  She grips the doorknobs, twisting it open. “Jonah told me when I called him inquiring about you, but only after he let me know what he thought of me as a parent.”

  Had she reached in and plucked out my heart, I don’t think I could have been more stunned.

  In the next few seconds, she and her surprises are gone in a swish of perfume. I lean back against the door, attempting to piece together what just happened. As confused as I am, as much as my heart aches, I know one thing to be true.

  My mother just laid down the first brick in what I can only hope will be our foundation.

  The sun is bright and warm this morning as I relax on the wide patio outside of the Dane’s apartment with Nell at my feet, and I have to admit, after months of living where cold, snow, and darkness were the norm, it’s a welcome change. I lean my face back and let the warmth seep over my skin.

  I’ve just tried calling Cora for what seems to be the tenth time since coming back to Annar, only to reach her voicemail. My path to reaching out to my friends has been riddled with roadblocks, although I’ve talked to a few of them by phone so far. Lizzie and Graham are currently on a break; she claims that the physical distance between them has begun to take its toll on their relationship. Meg and Alex got a dog, or—as she called it—a starter baby. He seemed annoyed by the whole thing, which I could totally get because Meg apparently dresses the dog up in clothes. But as nice as these conversations have been so far, the distance between all of us—once so close—has grown. And I’m fully aware that’s on me.

  “You remind me of a cat we had when I was little, one who liked to lay in front of windows and doors so it could soak up the rays.”

  I open my eyes and find Callie standing in the doorway. I can’t hide my smile; it’s good to see her. “At least you didn’t liken me to a lizard on a rock or something.”


  She sits down in the chair across from me and passes over a shopping bag. But I’m not interested in what she’s brought me to wear; I’m more interested in my friend and how, despite the months in between the last time we hung out, it feels like time has barely moved at all.

  At least this relationship has not deteriorated for the worse.

  “Cal—”

  “You know,” she says, as if I haven’t spoken at all, “Annar in the spring is really beautiful. Don’t you think?”

  I know she doesn’t want to talk about spring, though. “I missed you,” I tell her.

  She leans back in the chair and studies me, her green eyes narrowing. Nell trots over and licks her hand. “Good gods, girl. Why is it still this trashy blonde?”

  “I guess I haven’t gotten around to finding a good hair stylist to do it.” I tug on the ends, now scraping my shoulders. “I didn’t want to risk doing a poor job at home. Any recommendations?”

  She pulls out her phone. “Is today too early?”

  I can’t help but laugh. So many things have changed, but not Callie Lotus—and for that I am so grateful. I sit back as she calls in a favor to get me into her hair stylist.

  When she’s done, she shoves her phone back into her purse before leaning back in the chair. “What you did was really shitty, Chloe.”

  I totally deserve that.

  She drums her fingers across her stomach. “I mean—you bailed on me that day. Left me to the wolves when I couldn’t produce you afterward. So, I’m kind of torn here. Part of me wants to kick your ass for what you put us all through, and the other just wants to hug you because I’ve been worried as all hell.”

  I think I already know, but I ask anyways. “Wolves?”

  “What do you know so far of what went down once you left?”

  I scrub my face. Gods. Facing up to one’s actions is no easy task. “I have bits and pieces. Mind filling me in?”

  As she has done in the past, Callie doesn’t soft shoe around the bitter truth. She tells me how, once Jonah came home and found my purse and phone left behind, he immediately called her. And then, when she couldn’t produce me, he called Kellan and from there, they went to every single one of their houses to search for me. Days went by, no news came, and the Guard became involved. Jonah proceeded to tear apart my apartment, and when he found my ring, the shit truly hit the fan. People were scared that I’d been attacked by the Elders, but she says that Jonah and Kellan always knew differently. From the moment he found my ring, Callie says Jonah knew what I’d done.