Page 111 of By the Orchid and the Owl
We had no blanket this time, so we stood, crossing our arms at each other, in the center of the cave. I hadn’t felt this much animosity between us in a long time.
“Coen?” I ground out when he didn’t answer. “No. More. Secrets.”
He huffed a breath.
“Your life is more important than the truth, Rayna.”
“I actually beg to disagree,” I shot back.
“Really?” He stepped closer. “Because I don’t think you do.You’rethe one who asked me to erase Emelle’s memory of Lord Arad to keep her safe.”
“That’s different,” I hissed. “Emelle’s memory wasn’t about her. It was aboutmeandmyfamily andmyheritage. So as much as it sucks to keep her from that part of me, it isn’t the same as you hiding information about myownblood.”
I went on before he could interrupt.
“And if you and Garvis are helping the pirates—sorry,faerie fleets—in a war that’s invisible to everyone else, I need to know becauseI’minvolved whether I like it or not.”
“You want to know until Kitterfol Lexington comes back,” Coen said, and now I noticed his arms trembling against the widespread planes of his chest. “You want to know until I’m not around to defend your mind and he pulls the truth out bit by bit, and strings you up in front of everyone, and lashes you until your skin is in bloody strips, and you’re puking and screaming and pissing yourself.”
My words got caught somewhere in my mouth. Close. He was so close to mentioning that one death that haunted his every step from so long ago.
I considered him a brother, he’d told me once,and he died from it.
“What was his name?” I asked, something in me softening ever so slightly.
Coen’s shoulders remained rigid, but he said, “Mattheus.”
I exhaled. “And Kitterfol Lexington killed him?” I asked carefully. “After his own faerie power exploded in response to drinking even more bascite?”
“Yes.” Coen’s voice fractured. “Lexington tortured Mattheus in front of the entire village, then hauled him off—to the sea, he claimed, to dump him into the ocean for the monsters lurking in the water. But not before our adoptive father—a Mind Manipulator himself—erased Matt’s entire identity, every piece of knowledge he held about us and the faeries.” Coen closed his eyes. “Matt passed out without even knowing who he was. I remember trying to catch his eye during one of the final lashings, and his gaze passed right over me. He was nothing but a picked-out shell by the end.”
Which was what I’d be, if Lexington got to me after Coen graduated from the Institute.
I’d never loathed my Whispering magic so much as I did now. If only I was a Manipulator, too, I wouldn’t be in this position, having to choose between knowledge and life, truth and safety.
The key to happiness isn’t love or gratitude or any of that shit,Don had always said, much to Fabian’s exasperation.It’s ignorance.Well, perhaps Fabiandidagree with that even if he wouldn’t admit it, considering he’d fed me ignorance my whole life by keeping my birth and mother a secret.
Should I choose ignorance now? Let Coen and Garvis fight on their own? From the way Coen’s jaw still seemed to be ticking, I knew he’d be steadfast in his secret-keeping. He wouldn’t give me a single thing more even if I begged.
So I wouldn’t beg. I would put the pieces together on my own. In front of him.
“We’re in the middle of a war,” I said. “But only the Good Council and the faeries know about it. Everyone else in here is oblivious in our little bubble.”
Coen didn’t nod. But his pupils widened in the glittering light.
“You and the others weren’t sent here as distractions,” I plowed on. “You were sent here as spies. To grow up here and learn the ins and outs of the Institute and return to the faerie fleets when you’re finished.” I almost gagged on the words. “You’re all leaving this island as soon as you pass that Final Test.”
Once upon a time, I’d been terrified of exile. Now the man I loved was going to exile himself, and I wanted nothing more than to follow him out of here.
Coen unfolded his arm and took a half-step toward me.
“I’m not leaving you, Rayna. I’m not abandoning you.”
“But that was the plan,” I persisted. “You planned on leaving until I showed up. And now you don’t know what to do. You—” I almost laughed as I stumbled upon a final realization. “You’ve been getting the pills from the faerie ships.Theyprovide you with the suppressant to stifle our immature power, not some random merchant from your home village.”
Being immune to the shield, Coen would be able to do such a thing—reach through the barrier and take the pills from a boat on the other side. Probably in the dead of night when no one was looking.
“You said you had topayfor them. What are you paying them with, Coen? Information?”
