CHAPTER EIGHT

 

MOM.

THE TITLE hung awkwardly in the air as I twisted my head back and forth between Fiona and Clay. Time had stopped the instant the word had left Clay’s mouth and had yet to restart.

Magnolias. The scent of the fae was overwhelmingly floral. I glanced at Fiona. Could this be the reason he associated that scent with his mother?

My head whipped back toward Clay. There are floral perfumes too. Maybe his mother wore one of those and it’s a coincidence.

His utterance didn’t make any sense, and yet as it raced through my mind on a repeated loop, it began to make perfect sense. So many unanswered questions were laid to rest with the simple understanding that she was indeed his mother; so many more flooded into the void they left.

“My baby,” Fiona whispered softly as time restarted. Her voice shattered like glass under the weight of her emotions. Her body quivered, as though it was taking all of her strength to refrain herself from racing across the room to hold him.

Clay swayed on his feet for a moment or two before leaning heavily against the doorjamb, ashen-faced and barely breathing. Noticing his obvious distress, I ignored the feeling that had stopped me in my tracks when he’d first whispered the word and raced to his side to help. Touching his cheek soothingly, I whispered his name.

“Are you okay?” I asked in a quiet tone, certain the concern I had for him colored my voice.

His eyes, darker against his sallow skin and more shadowed with pain than they’d ever been before, moved to meet mine. Everything I saw in them spoke of hurt and betrayal, of lost years and the pain of abandonment. In the depths of his gaze, I saw an amplified echo of the same pain he’d shown when he discovered Louise had faked her own death to give him motivation to hate me. I saw doubt and questions and heartbreak so devastating that it seemed impossible to be contained in one body.

And there was nothing I could do to help him.

I wanted to rewind time and have some sort of warning about what Fiona's presence would reveal. If only I had the ability to do something, anything to save him from the pain he was in now. If I could, I’d happily reverse the clock and begin again with a series of more poignant questions for Fiona.

“You . . . you lived with them,” he said breathlessly. The darkness in his gaze was a heavy weight on my heart. “You said you knew them.”

I tilted my head in confusion, uncertain over the course of his thoughts. Why was the story I’d told him important now?

“Did you know this?” Accusation, directed squarely at me, dripped from every syllable.

Despite the hurt that stabbed me with the knowledge that he could think I’d deliberately withhold something like this, I shook my head and tried to silently communicate that I was as blindsided as him.

Was there something I should’ve seen when I lived with Aiden? But how could I have known? “I swear I didn’t. She was just Aiden’s aunt. The court’s leader. I never even thought . . .”

I trailed off as Clay squeezed his eyes tightly shut, probably in an attempt to block out the confusion that was certain to be circling viciously in his mind. To allow him his peace, I stopped myself from comforting him. It was a physical ache not to offer support when it was evident he needed it more than ever.

Despite the years that had passed since I learned the truth of what I was, I could easily recall the sting of betrayal. At least I’d been ready to accept the possibility I wasn’t entirely normal. I could only begin to imagine how much worse it was for him to learn that his mother was fae when he’d been raised his whole life to hate all things other. That definition now included himself.

It was sure to ratchet his usual undercurrent of self-loathing—which had finally receded in the months that had passed in Sweden—to new, dizzying heights. Unable to resist the urge to help him any longer, I reached for his free hand. Once I’d entwined my fingers around his, I spun to meet Fiona’s gaze.

“I think you owe us an explanation,” I said, perhaps a little unkindly. I hadn’t yet forgiven the fact that she hadn’t told me the truth so I could prepare somewhat for the fallout. “Now.”

Clay’s fingers tightened around mine, and he seemed to draw some strength from my proximity. I was in awe that he hadn’t completely fallen apart given the circumstances, especially coming less than a year after Louise’s reappearance from the dead. Sure, he wasn’t exactly himself, and I’d borne the brunt of his initial anger, but he was now remarkably calm. Almost eerily so. I glanced at him once more to check he was okay. The ghost of hurt still rested heavy on his brow.

“I do,” Fiona said. “I do wish I had the opportunity to explain this to you years ago. It would have saved a lot of heartache. However, I was unable.”

Something in her words indicated she was referring to her own heart as much as Clay’s. My anger subsided a little, but I couldn’t help being more than a little discourteous toward her considering the damage her presence had wrought and the fact that she hadn’t given any indication to me that her secrets could cause a rift between Clay and me.

I recalled Aiden’s statement about the strength of our relationship and the world seeming topsy-turvy. Did he know?

My anger grew again to encompass both of the fae who had rudely interrupted our idyllic life. “Well?” I prompted.

“When my mother was still in charge of the court, I made the biggest mistake of my life,” she said. “I was young and reckless, and I found amusement in spending time with the Unseelies. My mother had warned me about them, but I refused to listen to reason. Instead, I accused her of being old-fashioned and out of touch. Drawn to the danger, I even ignored the warnings that my own sixth sense flashed at me. One day, those whom I had counted as friends considered it to be amusing to push a crazed man over the edge of his sanity and convinced him to set a fire. I could not see the enjoyment in the action, and I refused to take part. Neither did I inform my mother, nor anyone who could have stopped them, of their plan.

“The next day, I found out that ninety-seven people died in the fire that they had incited. The deaths disgusted me. I had assumed that my friends would regret their deeds when they learned of the loss of lives.

“When I located them, I discovered I had been mistaken. Remorse did not rest heavy on their consciences as it did on mine. Rather, they shared stories of the final plight of humans desperate to flee from the flames. They made merriment of it. I attempted to make them understand, but it was a futile attempt. My anger and disappointment grew, not only in them but in myself for befriending them. In my innocence, I warned them that I would tell my mother of their deeds. No sooner than the words were free did they turn on me. Their attack was violent and ferocious. I believed they would kill me. I was helpless, alone, and far from my court.

“I tried to protect myself, but my magic was not strong enough to fight them all. Since my naming, I had trained, both as a diplomat and as a protector, but my knowledge never prepared me for dealing with so fierce an attack or with so many assailants at once. It was when I feared all hope was lost that someone fought the Unseelies away from me. When I found I was safe, I looked up and saw the darkest eyes I had ever seen on a human. He held his hand out to me, and his gentle kindness left me dumbstruck. I had no way of knowing at the time that he was part of the Rain, and because of my bruised and bloodied state, he remained ignorant to my fae nature. By the time I learned how he had the skill and ability to fight off the Unseelies, it was too late for me. I was already in love. It was not something I had planned for, or even dared hope to experience for myself. Of everyone in the world, the two of you should understand that you cannot help who you fall in love with, even if the implications are unforeseeable.”

“Stop!” Clay shouted. His eyes flashed with black as anger rolled through his body. He released my hand, and his fingers curled into a tight fist.

I staggered backward in shock at his sudden outburst. The remarkable calm he’d shown was clearly a dam that had broken in him with devastating consequences. I’d never seen him so overtaken by rage. Not even when I’d uttered words designed to hurt him as he left me in the hotel following Dad’s death.

“I don't want to hear your lies! I just want to know why the hell a fae is standing here, masquerading as the mother who left me when I was little!” His gaze dropped to fall on the axe on the floor. In an instant, it was in his hand as he advanced on Fiona brandishing it as a weapon. His voice held an edge that warned me that he wasn’t thinking clearly. “I know all about doppelgangers. Sometimes they don’t know where their doubles are kept, but sometimes they do. I’ll ask you one time, and one time only. Where is my mother?”

Fiona backed away toward the door with her hands raised in surrender. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I am your mother.”

I put my hand on Clay’s shoulder to stop him from doing something he’d regret. When he shrugged it off, I moved into place between Fiona and him.

“Clay, she smells of magnolias, crab apples, and Kwanzan cherry.”

“So?” He met my gaze with steely eyes filled with madness and confusion.

“Magnolias,” I murmured as a reminder of everything we’d been through—of the place that had once given him peace purely because the scent reminded him of his mother.

My words, or something he saw when he looked at me, must have calmed him a little. He loosened his hold on the axe, and I used his weakened grip to my advantage, prying the weapons from his hands.

“There are so many mistakes I have made in my life,” Fiona said. “But allowing the distance between myself and my precious fledglings is the one I regret the most.”

“Shut up!” Clay said as he squeezed his eyes shut again. “You don’t get to talk to me.”

“You must believe me,” Fiona almost sobbed.

“My mother is not fae.” He spat the word out as if it was poisonous before spinning on his heels and walking away with his hands clutched into his hair.

“Please, Clay,” she said. “Please, listen to me.”

He spun back instantly. “If you really are my mom, then I have one question for you? Just one. Why?” His voice hitched and his gaze was wild. “Why did you leave us? Why did you abandon your kids?”

“I . . . I didn’t leave.”

“Liar!” His throat sounded shredded, ripped into as many frayed and tiny pieces as his shattered sanity.

“I had no other choice. Once Troy found out what I was, he stole you away from me. I tried to find you, but he had hidden you all too well. I think that even if I had somehow taken you back, he would have hunted you three to the ends of the Earth. He loved you all so much.

“By the time I was finally able to locate you, it was too late. You had already been poisoned against our kind.”

Clay’s hands clenched into fists, tugging the hair on either side of his head, and his nostrils flared with anger as he shook his head violently from side to side. “Bullshit!” he cried. His voice was growing hoarse.

“Maybe you should leave,” I said quietly to Fiona as I reached for Clay to let him know I was there for him. “I think we need some time to process this.”

Nodding sadly, she started to leave before stopping with an expression that broke my heart. “I want to tell you the whole story, but I will wait until you are willing to hear it. I have wanted to contact you for so long,” she said, glancing at Clay. “I will wait for as long as you need, but please try not to take too much time, if not for me than for Mackenzie. Every minute could be her last.”

“Your daughter,” I confirmed for Clay’s sake. I wanted him to know there was something else—someone else—at stake, hoping it might be enough to break through his confusion and give him something to focus on.

Fiona wrung her hands together. “I am very concerned for her welfare. I know how much Louise suffered at their hands—”

“No, you did that! Your kind did that!” Clay’s angry shouts cut off her words. Tremors overtook his whole body as his fury raced through his veins and ravaged his emotions.

Fiona’s features fell deeper into sorrow in the shadow of Clay’s rage. She sobbed and met my eye. “I understand I have made a mess of the situation; however, I beg of you to please help Mackenzie. Please?” she pleaded.

Even though I hated to think of anyone suffering at the hands of the Rain, it wasn’t enough to stop me from wanting to shout at Fiona to shut up and get out of the house.

Clay buckled to the floor and a strangled choking sound issued from him. I hated Fiona for dumping the news on us without warning. She could have found a hundred other ways to tell him. Any one of those might have saved Clay from the anguish he was feeling over the revelation. She could have even taken the opportunity to warn me that it could be a possibility when she first arrived so that I was prepared to help Clay through it rather than feeling like I was standing idly by without a clue how to help him.

How do you process that your mother is one of the things you hate the most?

Fiona’s features crumbled at the silence she faced in response to her quiet pleading. It wasn’t possible to fake the desperation that emanated from her. My resolve to put Clay first and ignore her requests for help faltered. Even though Clay was hurting, and even though he was bound to be confused about the situation, I believed Fiona. Her concern for her daughter was real, and justifiable given what I knew of the Rain. I was resistant to leave Clay alone, even for a moment, but eventually I pulled myself away to open the door for her.

“I’ll talk to Clay,” I whispered as she left. “You have to understand that you can’t just come in here like this and drop that sort of bombshell without warning. How could you possibly expect him to be immediately okay after finding out that apparently his mother is back, and that she’s fae, something that he was raised to hate? It’s too much for anyone to expect one person to accept.”

The moment he—and I—had discovered my true nature rushed through my mind again. Just like this situation, he’d burned with anger but had eventually calmed. I hoped he would have a similar reaction to Fiona’s news once there had been time for him to absorb it all. I was certain he needed time to process it in his own way.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I have imagined this moment so many times over the last twenty-two years, but I could never really guess how it would go. I had hoped for better than this, but—” She stared longingly at her long-lost youngest son. “I should have expected this outcome, given what they have been taught about us.”

Clay muttered something from his kneeling position on the floor, but it was too low for me to understand. Fiona dropped her head down as tears spilled from her eyes in response to Clay’s anguish. I could see by the stress on her face that she was telling the truth.

It wasn’t my place to ask for the story though—Clay needed to decide when, and if, he was ready for that. My resolve to ignore Fiona’s need weakened further until it was a crumpled mess on the floor.

“Give him some time. He just needs to process this,” I whispered to her as I closed the door.

At the sound of the door clicking closed, Clay lifted himself to his feet and paced as he continued his low muttering. Crossing the room quickly, I drew Clay into my arms. Despite his initial resistance to my touch, he quickly melted against me and rested his forehead against mine. We stood like that for ages, breathing in the same air, as his blindingly tempestuous anger slowly cooled to a restless breeze. Eventually, the tremors that had overtaken his body slowed and his breathing returned to normal.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

He shook his head before ducking down to capture my lips. What began as a chaste kiss blazed hotter as his anger shifted to desperation. An urgency overtook him, and his tongue stroked once against my lower lip.

His mouth became more demanding and relentless as he poured his excess emotions into me. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to forget what had happened and simply enjoy his touch. I could tell that he needed to get lost in us more than he wanted to talk through his feelings. At least, for the moment.

Almost instantly, his hands were caressing my back, and he held my body against his. Threading his fingers into my hair, he drew me closer to him before lifting my legs around his waist and carrying me toward our bed. He gently guided me down to the middle of the mattress before hovering over me with his body pressed against mine.

Barely breaking the contact of our lips, he quickly stripped off our clothes and nestled himself between my legs. His motions were urgent and insistent as he used our union to satisfy his need for solace from the stress and doubts no doubt running through his head. Every action was primal and desperate, and a chorus of feral sounds escaped from his lips in time with his movements.

Despite the cold air, sweat dripped from his brow as his hips repeatedly thrust in time with mine. His lips only lifted from my mouth to caress other stretches of my skin, and I held him tightly against me to wordlessly confirm I was there for him, whatever he needed and whatever he wanted to do.

After he had collapsed against me in exhaustion, I gently stroked his hair and allowed him the silence and time to process the information that he'd unwillingly discovered. At the same time, I tried to sift through my past with the fae because I had to be sure that there was no event—however insignificant it might have seemed at the time—that could have warned me of Fiona’s revelation. I also wanted to see if there was anything I’d disregarded as unimportant that might now have a new meaning.

 

CLAY’S HEAD rested against my shoulder, and his breathing was steady. If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I would have assumed he was sleeping. Lying beside him, it was difficult to remember the loneliness I’d experienced during our separation and the circumstances that had driven me to the desperate places in my mind. Aiden had fulfilled my physical need for affection, but he’d never been able to connect to the part of me deep inside that constantly yearned for my true love. I had been lonelier living with the bustling fae court than I’d ever been living with Clay in our deserted paradise.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked quietly.

I rolled my head to the side and met his dark chocolate eyes. “I’m just trying to remember anything that I learned from the fae that might help us in this situation.”

“Situation?” he murmured. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t think of a better word.”

“You believe her, don’t you?” he asked. Despite our reunion only a relatively short time ago, we could already read each other so well.

“I do. At least, I don’t think she has any reason to lie to us.” I rolled onto my side and stroked his arm lightly.

“Besides getting help from us,” he grumbled.

“If that was her goal, there were easier ways for her to go about it. If anything, she’s made it harder for you to trust her.”

“Fae lie. They cheat, and they hurt people.”

“From my experience, the Seelies aren’t like that. They’re pranksters, for sure. They’ll hide your keys when you’re not looking or make your food spoil, but they won’t maliciously hurt someone just for a laugh.”

He rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut. “But if she’s telling the truth, what does it mean?”

I understood what he was asking; what did it mean for him? How would his life change if his mother really was fae? I couldn’t answer those questions though, so I leaned forward against his chest and answered the best as I could. “It means that maybe you should talk to her and find out more.”

“Maybe.”