Page 109 of By the Orchid and the Owl
Garvis turned to frown at him. I dug my fingernails into the tome’s spine.
“Leave us,” I ordered. Not at Garvis, but at the few spiders I could sense at my feet, waiting with dripping fangs for gossip and drama and rumors to spread.
To my surprise, I heard the brush of several dozen hairy appendages against the culms of grass as a few of them scuttled away on command.
Interesting. If my heart wasn’t about to jump straight out of my throat, I’d wonder why they obeyed me when other insects didn’t—unless it was because spidersweren’tinsects, not truly.
I shook the questions away and flattened Coen with a glare.
“You stole this memory from me. Thisknowledge. Why.”
It was hardly even a question. Just a command. And I didn’t care that Garvis heard. Didn’t care that they were both still roped to the ground, all those pentaballs scattered around them among the still-whistling grasses. The ringing in my ears had reached a pitch that made my fingertips seem to vibrate along with it all.
“I didn’t steal it,” Coen said finally. Carefully. “But I did hide it deep in your subconscious because you asked me to. You wanted to be able to focus on your test.”
And without even a swipe of his hand, he unveiled it for me—that memory he’d buried. I felt it spring up to the forefront of my mind, and I stumbled backward as it all poured back: Ms. Pincette giving me the tome, me learning I was faerie, then asking Coen to take the knowledge of it from me until after my test.
It wouldn’t be fair of me to remain angry at him for doing as I asked. But—
“I told you to give it back to me after that test,” I whispered.
“You didn’tpassthat test,” he shot back. “You said you would, but you didn’t, and I thought it best for you to focus until you did.”
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Coen.”
I had balled up my fists and found them shaking at my sides. I didn’t care why he’d kept this from me—to protect me, to shield me, I didn’t care. Not whenmysense of self had been buried beneathhisneed to control the narrative. Not when the realization raised as many questions as it answered.
Had Dyonisia hunted the last of the Esholian faeries into extinction? Her arrival on the island certainly correlated with the final traces of them, according to Mr. Fenway’s first lesson. But if so—why?
What did she have against faeries, to murder them and lock them out and search ruthlessly for the strays she’d trapped within?
Did all of the Good Council know they were looking for faeries to persecute in addition to the humans that failed their Final Tests, or just her?
So many questions.Toomany questions.
Coen flashed me his palms.
“I don’t know the answers to everything you’re asking, Rayna, but yes, I was eventually going to tell you that we’re faerie.”
“Why keep it from me at all?” My voice bobbed in my throat. Betrayal. This felt like betrayal in its deepest form, that he wouldn’t trust me enough to tell me about my own blood. “Just because you wanted to keep mesafe?”
“Yes.” Coen didn’t flinch. “I will always choose your safety over my morality, Rayna. And I won’t regret that, no matter how mad you might get at me.”
“Oh, I’m mad,” I started.
I know. I can feel it. And I can take it. But by the moonbeam and the mist, please stop shouting about this in the middle of the pentaball field. There are other ways someone can eavesdrop on us besides spiders, you know.
Don’t belittle me,I snarled.
Don’t act little then, he snarled back.
I almost threw the tome into his face. My hands actually flexed to do so when Garvis disentangled his ankles from the grass and stepped between Coen and me.
Rayna. Take a breath.
I recoiled at the sound of anyone else besides Coen in my head. Garvis’s thoughts weren’t as wormy as Kitterfol Lexington’s had been, but they were raspier, wispier, like they were floating on a wind rather than sinking in my mind. They left tingles on the back of my neck as he continued.
You’re part-faerie, yes, but the power that derives from that side of your lineage is too immature to take form. If anyone from the Good Council finds out about that, they won’t hesitate to destroy you knowing that your natural, God-given magic isn’t advanced enough to fight back. Coen and I have erased the full understanding of our blood from Sasha, Sylvie, and Terrin, too. It is better this way.
