“Ah.” Finished with her bread, she dusts her hands off, still deep in thought. “Did I ever tell you that my daughter had a different father than my late husband?”

I shake my head, glad for the shift in conversation.

“I got pregnant with her right out of high school. Unfortunately, her father wasn’t a very nice man. When I fled to Vi’s with a shiner and marks around my neck, Vi finally told me if I stayed with him, she’d kill him. The day I left with Grace and a trash bag of my belongings was the best day of my life. A few years later, I met Paul. That kind, quiet man took over as her daddy, even if she never called him that word.”

“I wish I could have met Grace.” I think of the portrait of the happy girl in equestrian riding gear downstairs. Her vibrant eyes and mischievous smile.

“I do too.” Her lips press together, as if torn between pride and anguish over her memory. “When Grace and Paul disappeared, they weren’t at a cattle auction with Vi’s husband and boys. I tell people that because it’s easier than the truth.”

I shift on the bed, barely able to hide my surprise.

“The truth is, Grace’s deadbeat father had asked to meet her. He hadn’t been in her life for five years. I let Grace decide, and she chose to meet him. So my husband, the man who had taken care of another man’s little girl knowing she would never call him dad, offered to drive her fifteen hours to meet him. He explained that he would stay as long as it took, because when that man broke his little girl’s heart, he was going to be there to pick up the pieces.”

“Zinnia, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

Zinnia’s eyes fill with tears. “Paul was a man of few words. I’m not sure he ever told Grace that he loved her, but she knew. Not because of his words, but his actions.”

I’m crying again. Both of us a hot mess of tears and snot.

“How do you not hate the Fae?” I ask.

“Child, there’s enough hate in this world as is. I won’t add to it.” She brushes a strand of my hair from my face. “I don’t know this Faerie boy you love, but I do know you. You wouldn’t give your heart to someone unworthy.” She sighs. “Sometimes our minds won’t let us say what our heart feels.”

“You’re saying he might be capable of love?”

“I’m saying, love comes in many different forms. The last time Vi ever told anyone she loved them, her teenage boys and husband were rushing out the door. I don’t expect she’ll ever say those words again, and if you tried to make her she’d tell you to piss off and die, but that woman loves you. Did you know last year after you were expelled, she marched through the Shimmer and straight to that school and told those Fae pricks where they could stick it?”

I snort-laugh through my tears. “I had no idea.”

She mutters, “That woman will be the death of me someday. But while I’m still alive, she’s my sister and I love her—just don’t ever tell her that.”

“Deal.” I lean against her soft shoulder. “How did I luck out all those years ago when you saved me?”

Emotion trembles in her voice as she shakes her head, saying, “Summer, we saved each other. I was looking for one child, and God gave me another. Although how he could allow your parents to sell you to Fae traders is beyond me.”

My heart spikes in my chest. “What? My parents died, remember?”

Zinnia turns to me, her eyes brimming with agony. “Summer, somewhere along the line, you started believing that, and I let you. But they’re alive. They own a pawn shop somewhere in Fort Worth. I look them up every few years, praying God had the decency to strike them with lightning or have them both run over by a semi, but he does work in mysterious ways.”

I’m trembling. My memories of them were taken by my soulstone, but I was so sure they had died.

“Why did they sell me?” I whisper.

“The last time I contacted the woman, she said you were a changeling. That you were born with brown eyes and then died. When the doctors revived you, your eyes were a strange greenish hazel. She tried to love you, but you were different than the other children. She said animals reacted strangely around you.” Zinnia shakes her head. “The Lightmare had just happened and humans were scared. Every child that had a birthmark or acted different was deemed a changeling back then.”

My chest aches, but for some reason, knowing the truth is freeing somehow.

“When I found you in that cage and bought your slave price, you didn’t speak to me for months. And when you finally did, you told me your parents gave you away because they couldn’t love you.” She dabs at the corner of her eyes. “I told you I already loved you. Do you know what you said?” Her voice breaks. “You said I didn’t yet, but that you would be so perfect that someday I would, and then I could never leave you.”

Tears stream down my face. Those painful memories may be locked away by magic, but the hurt and trauma from being abandoned is still there, imprinted on my heart like wounds that have scarred over.

“My response rings just as true today as it did then.” Zinnia pulls a tissue from her bra and hands it to me. “Sweet girl, you’re my daughter and I love you.”

We finish off the bread and tea, and then she talks me into a hot shower. Afterwards, right before I fall asleep, I text Mack.

I love you. And whatever happens, that will never, ever change. See you tomorrow night.

42

The sound of shouts and cursing wake me. I stare groggily at the low ceiling. Are Jane and Vi fighting already?

A loud boom shakes the drywall.

Frick. That was a gunshot.

I jump from bed, still half asleep, and nearly slam into Zinnia.

Her face is red and flustered. “Your friends from the academy are here.”

“What?” I glance at my iPhone to catch the time, only to see I’ve missed a slew of messages from Eclipsa. “Who, Mack?”

Zinnia rushes out the door, calling over her shoulder. “No. Your pointy-eared friends. I have to get Vi and Jane out of the house before there’s a massacre.”

I can’t tell who she thinks is the danger; my friends or Jane and Vi.

“She’s charming,” comes a silky smooth female voice.

I whip around to see Eclipsa leaning against the wall nearest the window, arms crossed. She wears a Pink Pixie Pirates black crop top and low-riding silver leggings, the jewels across her forehead sparkling in the morning sun.

I look over her belly tats and navel piercing, the elaborate sweep of kohl eyeliner that brings out the otherworldly largeness of her dark eyes.

“Holy hell, my aunt is going to hate you.”

“Oh, you mean the leathery mortal woman who tried to take off my head with that shotgun?” She winks. “I like her. Her aim is crap, thank Titania, considering someone thought it was a good idea to arm her with iron buckshot. But it takes balls to try and shoot one of us.”

“Why are you here?”

She arches an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer any of my messages. I thought you were in trouble.”

“No. I’m just angry at you.”

Her lips tug into a pout. “Still?”

“Yes, Eclipsa. Still. I thought you were my friend and your words hurt me.”

Eyes downcast, she toes a plum purple and orange sneaker into the warped edge of a floorboard. “You are my friend. One of my only friends, in fact. Which is weird because I don’t ever remember agreeing to like you, but there it is. I do, against my will.”

I snort. “You are absolutely the worst at apologies.”

“I’m aware.” She glares. “I’m not good at this, okay?”

“Didn’t we just establish that?”

“I mean, having friends. Caring. It’s not natural to me. In the Everwilde, we’ve been taught from birth how to betray and manipulate our way to power. It’s all that matters in our world, and having friends when everyone is a potential enemy is a liability.”

“It can be that way in the human world too,” I admit. “Too bad there isn’t a soulbond for friends. That would make it so much easier.”

“But that’s what makes friendship so strangely . . . wonderful.” Her sneakers are quiet against my floor as she approaches. “It’s like the Bloodstar vine. It needs constant watering and care or it withers into dust.”

I’m not sure how I feel about Eclipsa comparing our relationship to the most poisonous flower in Everwilde, but I’ll take it.

“What I said in front of Hellebore,” she continues, her silver brows gathered. “He is an expert at learning what someone cares about and using that against them. If he truly understood how much I like you, he would use that knowledge to destroy both of us—and I can’t bear the thought of him taking something I hold precious and turning it into a weapon.”

I bounce on my toes, the urge to hug the prickly assassin warring with my pride. “I know, and you’re right. I just wasn’t expecting what you said to be so harsh or hurt so much.”

“Summer, the rules of the courts and power come to me easily, but the rules of friendship are . . . new to me. I’m still learning. Do you forgive me?”

“Yes!” I throw my arms around her. “How else can I ensure you never murder me?”

“Fair point. Now that that’s out of the way, we should probably go save the Winter Prince and Asher.”

I jerk back, eyes stretched wide. “They’re here too?”

But as I jog down the stairs, I recognize the twinge in my belly that I only feel around Valerian. Like a thousand butterflies of ice beating against my ribcage.

The odd scent of blueberry muffins and gunpowder permeates the air downstairs. Valerian and Asher are holed up in the dining room, looking more prisoner than guest as they endure Zinnia’s rapid barrage of offers for beverages and food, aka Southern hospitality at its finest. Their massive frames swamp the antique table and chairs, a family heirloom passed down for generations on Vi’s husband’s side.