Page 132 of Craving Carla

“No,” Tabatha counters. “You died because humans broke your heart.”

She studies me, her head tilting slightly. “You are such a strange witch. I’ve watched you for centuries, always begging and only getting scraps.”

A grin spreads across her face. “I saw the argument Amari posed to you—that you always take the bare minimum from humans and supernaturals. You are a queen, Carla. It is beneath you to beg.”

I glare at her. “What the hell do you know? You haven’t suffered just for being who you are.”

Tabatha gestures at the endless void surrounding us. “Look around, Carla. This has been my prison. Don’t talk to me about suffering.”

My mouth snaps shut at that. I look down at Kemnebi, then back to the cabin. “What is this door?”

“The doorway back home,” Tabatha replies.

“You aren’t ready for your true position,” she adds.

“And what is that?” I demand.

“To be the Queen of this realm.”

“What about the veil?” I ask.

“The veil will stay in place until you’re ready.”

Frustration bubbles up inside me. “Ready for what?”

“You were born to be a guardian,” Tabatha says simply.

“Yes, I know that,” I respond impatiently. “To protect Anora.”

Tabatha shakes her head, her braids shifting with the movement. “Your job is not to protect Anora. It’s to protect the realms should Anora get out of line.”

“What are you saying?”

“You are the guardian of limbo,” she says. “And it is a dangerous position to have.”

She gives me a hard look. “I’ve been watching, and I’ve seen you be reckless. You’ve let humans take two of your children and a sample of your blood. Giving humans access to limbo is worse than giving them access to the tree of life.”

“Why do they want access to limbo so badly?” I ask again.

“Humans have a strange obsession with the afterlife,” Tabatha explains. “They feel if they can control it, they can control who lives and who dies. Your children made a deal with me, to protect limbo even if it means keeping you in the shadows.”

“If they don’t lift the veil, I’ll never know love,” I protest. “I can’t claim my mate under this veil.”

“It’s a small price to pay for the living realm,” Tabatha says coldly.

Anger flares up inside me. “Why did you give me this power? To make me some sacrificial lamb?”

“Because Fate chose you, that’s why,” Tabatha replies. “I was waiting for the humans to kill you—it was the only way the spell would work. I’d been watching you, watching you beg for a place in this world.” Her expression softens slightly. “Carla, you don’t have to beg. You were born a Queen. When you realize that, that is when the veil will lift. It is not your children holding you back.” She points directly at me. “It is you. Stop begging to sit with people who are beneath you. You have a throne. They do not.”

“You knew those humans were going to kill me and you let them?” I ask, incredulous.

“I’ve been watching you a long time,” Tabatha says, her voice softening. “How do you think your adoptive mother found you? You appeared in that cot out of thin air. You were born in my coven after the prayer. We thought you were our savior. We placed you with humanity and watched you grow out of safety.”

She pauses, her gaze distant as if looking into the past. “Aya was hunting us, and we knew she’d kill you if she found out you were an answered prayer. But as I watched you grow, I realized you weren’t that prayer at all. You were something else. A guardian.”

Her eyes focus on me again, intense and sincere. “It was then I knew that Fate was just giving me someone to pass the key onto. That I wouldn’t be in the living realm much longer. I knew you’d be stronger if you died first and I brought you back. You could absorb the key along with your children. And I would be here until you accepted your fate as Queen of limbo.”

She throws her hands up in exasperation. “You’re still not ready.”

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