Page 145 of A Song of Air
His lips twitched. “Because she does not keep men alive long enough to overthrow her.”
“I can see that.” She seemed a rather paranoid Fae, but Bryson supposed all those in power were.
“When she fancies a male, she will either woo them to her side or take them without their consent and trap them here. She uses them to create heirs, and when she has no further use for them, she discards them like trash.”
“That’s awful.”
“That is life in the Unseelie.” Weylyn shrugged. “And my father... he was a High Fae man. My mother took him from Seelie and entrapped him here with fruit. She seduced him. Kept him for years. And after I was born, she killed him for being a nuisance. I never knew him...” His voice grew wistful, filled with pain. “But she spoke of him often. Of the High Lord she managed to snatch from Seelie.”
Bryson’s eyes widened. “A High Lord? Your father was a High Lord?”
“The High Lord of the Gold Court.”
Bryson sucked in a breath, blinking as her mind whirled in a whirlwind. “Corvina is—”
“Corvina.” His voice softened as he said her name. “I knew who she was the moment I reached for her with my magic. A bond that tethered us, different from that of a mate, of a familiar. A bond of Mana just as sacred. Of blood. Of family.”
“So Corvina is...”
“She is my cousin. My mother kidnapped her uncle from Seelie, bred him, disposed of him. Corvina’s father assumed the position when his brother never returned home. She is my flesh and blood. She is the only connection I have to the father I never knew. She and Basil are the family I always desired. One, at least, that did not try to kill me every few minutes.”
She recalled it then. The soft way he spoke to her as opposed to everyone else. The gentle way he handled Basil, how fierce he had protected them both, especially when Basil had gotten lost.
Because they were family. His blood. Corvina was his cousin.
Bryson leaned forward and grasped his hand in hers, offering him support. “Why haven’t you told her?”
His jaw tightened at that, almost as if he were too afraid to answer, but Bryson could read his silences well enough.
“You’re afraid she will reject you like your other siblings do.”
He didn’t give her confirmation of her words. He just continued his story. “I was the youngest until... until my mother met a male she actually loved and Cossima was born. My sister.” His golden eyes lit up. “We all loved her. As much as an Unseelie can love, welovedher. And when her father died, the queen was devastated. Devastated enough to protect the princess with all she could and all she was. We all protected her from the cruelties of our own court.”
“What was your sister like?” Bryson asked.
She couldn’t recall the last time anyone had asked that of her when it came to the memories of her family. She didn’t speak of them often, if ever. She should have. She should have kept them alive by speaking about what they were like instead of burying them beneath layers of hurt and pain. Beneath her own bitterness. She’d tried to keep their memories alive by being what they’d always wanted her to be, but instead she’d become a bitter, angry creature and had lost their memories as well as their lives.
Weylyn looked at her as though he felt the same. As though no one had ever asked him, and she supposed they hadn’t, because he’d kept her a secret. He’d kept his whole identity a secret from everyone. She wondered if he’d ever lost himself in the process of keeping all those secrets.
“She was sunshine,” he whispered. “And starlight and magic. She illuminated our darkness and evil. She was mischievous, but she was good. Better than anyone I’ve ever known.” His eyes shone with what Bryson suspected were tears. “I loved her. And she loved me, more than anyone else. She was my greatest friend.” He took a breath. “Until I killed her.” His expression hardened and he pulled away from Bryson, distancing himself from her touch.
“Youkilled her?” She didn’t want to believe that, but there was pain in his voice, so bad it fractured her. “How?”
“One thing you have to know about Cossima is that she was too adventurous and far too manipulative. A trait she got from our mother, no doubt. I am unsure how, but she wanted to leave Unseelie. To explore beyond the borders of what she knew.”
“And you took her,” Bryson guessed.
Weylyn gave a mirthless smirk. “She was very convincing. In and out, I told her. Before our mother could catch on to what we were doing.”
“Why did she ask you?”
“Because of my ties to Seelie.” He shrugged. “I’d gone before, in secret. She knew and she exploited that. So I took her, not just to prevent the queen from discovering my exploits, but to indulge my sister’s curiosity. So I took her to the border where Unseelie meets Seelie.” He choked and that burning anger flamed higher in his eyes. “I should not have taken her there.”
“Weylyn... whathappened?”
“We were doing nothing wrong when they showed up on their horses. Majestic beasts covered in jewels. Arrows pointed at us. I will never forget the leader of the group, astride a black stallion, crown atop his fucking head as he stared down at us... I will never forget the way he smiled down at us or the thoughts that flicked through his mind as he looked at us. Unseelie scum, tainting his precious court. His thoughts were vile, and when they saw my sister...” He shook his head. “He wanted her dead. He wanted us dead. For nothing more than merely existing, for stepping onto his lands. I should have eliminated him then. Gone into his mind and rendered him nothing but a shell, but I was young. Too young and inexperienced with my own magic. I was too slow, too fucking slow to stop it. I tried to fight, but they got me. They got her. And they made me watch as they killed her. Slowly. Painfully. And they left her body there on the ground to bleed out. Flowers grew around her. Even in death her blood had created something beautiful. But me... they thought they’d killed me. Mana spared my life. I thought it was so I could take my sister’s body back to Unseelie, but when I did, it was in shame.
“My mother was...furiousis too kind a word. She broke. They all did. I did. And when she had me beaten, whipped with iron, I deserved it. It was my fault. I killed her. I killed my own blood by taking her into Seelie. It was my fault and I deserve their scorn. I always have. And I tried to drown my sorrows in Unseelie drugs. In powders in my nose that would help me forget, but there was no forgetting what I’d done, and there was no forgiving either.
