Page 24 of A War of Three Kings

“You know they have been poisoning me to inhibit my magic,” he says. “I have developed a tolerance to it, and my magic has returned bit by bit, but I just used a lot and I am nowhere near my full strength.”

I summon a volley of air to push my seat next to Aldrin’s, then collapse into it, now facing my father across his desk. His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches as his gaze flicks from Aldrin to me and back, but he doesn’t argue.

“Mother, I think it is time you told me the story of your pilgrimage.” My father turns that piercing gaze that many warriors have cowered under on my grandmother.

“It is forbidden for a priestess to speak of her pilgrimage,” she snaps.

“Forbidden by whom?” he roars. “You are the High Priestess, are you not? Change the rules.”

My mother pats his arm and speaks soothing words in his ear, as though calming a beast, but he shoots her a murderous look as well.

“He deserves to know.” I lean forward and squeeze my grandmother’s leg, able to reach her where she sits to the side of the desk.

She flicks her long fingers toward Aldrin. “Not in front of the fae.”

“Which one?” my father grinds out. “Because apparently there arethree faein this room.”

My body turns rigid at the accusation. I am not fae. I have dedicated my whole life to this realm. To humans. To identify as anything else would realign my entire existence, and I am not prepared for that.

But all humans have at least a little fae in them, and all fae have a lot of human. Where does a person draw the line when we are so interbred?

“Like I said, whatever fathered Edmund, he wasnotfae,” Aldrin retorts. “And I am the only one in this realm who could tell you what he was. I will know for certain with a description.”

“And what would I have met in the Otherworld, if not a fae?” my grandmother spits.

“Tuatha Dé Danann.”

The entire room freezes.

“Sometimes the gods wander in my realm to experience their creations, often masking their identities,” Aldrin continues. “We haven’t had an official visit in centuries, but I recall the last one. It would explain why Edmund is so powerful, more so than me, if he is half god. My ancestry isn’t that strong, nor is that of any fae living today that I know of.”

Aldrin reclines in his seat, arms behind his head, while he forms an air wield that unstoppers the crystal decanter on my father’s desk. It pours a glass of whiskey and floats it over to him, where his hand plucks it out of the air.

I want to shake him for the smug expression that fills his face, especially when my father glares at him.

“I’m sure you know our joint history,” Aldrin says. “The Tuatha Dé Danann bred with humans thousands of years ago to create the high fae. They combined their essence with the spiritsof the trees, of the water, of fire, or fused with animals to create the low fae.”

A powerful shiver runs down my spine at his implications. Aldrin gives me a measured glance before he continues.

“The magic of the gods is too strong and pure within Edmund for the man you bred with to be anything other than Tuatha Dé Danann.”

My heart hammers against my ribs. It is a lot to digest. Every muscle in my father’s body is taut, his shoulders high, tendons sticking out of his wide neck and his fists clenched.

“Tell us how you met my father,” he demands of his mother. “I won’t tolerate any more excuses.”

“Your father, yourtruefather, was the man who raised you. The man who was Lord Protector of these lands before you.” There is steel in my grandmother’s voice.

“Mother—”

“But the man I conceived you with? If I am to tell you of him, I need you to understand why I went on the pilgrimage in the first place.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. She looks so old and vulnerable. Sometimes I forget she has already lived far longer than many humans would expect, approaching ninety years, because magic leaked from my father into her during pregnancy.

“It is difficult for a priestess to talk of their pilgrimage,” I quickly cut in. “You can’t truly understand what it is like to walk through the utter void of a portal and take that leap of faith unless you have experienced it. We step into a completely foreign world, where we are told everything, absolutely everything, will want to kill or harm us. Every single Mother of Magic makes great sacrifices there to save our people. Her soul is never the same. Please, try not to judge too harshly.”

Aldrin gives me a scathing look. “Is the sacrifice yours or ours?” The corners of his lips are turned down and the swirlingamber of his eyes reveals the depths of festering anger and bitterness in his heart.

I never thought he would give me a look like that. I never thought I would deserve it.

My grandmother’s hands shake as she begins, and she sits on them to hide it. “I was born poor, desperately so. We often battled with starvation twisting our guts and had no idea when our next meal would be. I tried to forage in the woods for berries and herbs and would retch until I passed out when I made a mistake.

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