Page 68 of Hell Fae Prince
She waved a hand around us, showcasing her utopia once again.
So perfect. Clean. Quiet.
What happened to all the other fae?I wondered, glancing up at the crystal-blue sky.Are they flying?
And when did my mother grow wings? She’s human…
I nearly asked aloud, but she was already speaking again, something about my purpose.
“You should have finished the job by now,” she told me.
What job?The question lingered on my tongue, only to be swallowed as the sky shifted and turned a murky brown color. I gaped at it, then startled when it returned to its blue shade.How…?
“You were born for this, Camillia. I’m not sure why it’s taking you so long to complete the task.” She shook her head. “Well, your grandmother will be here soon for an assessment. Perhaps you just need a little nudge in the right direction.”
She started walking again, guiding me toward an arch that bridged two of the pristine buildings. Flowers and vines decorated the white stone, the greenery spelling out a word I couldn’t quite read. It was right there, lurking on the edge of my mind, but the more I concentrated on it, the more illegible it became.
Weird, I thought, frowning at it.
“Camillia,” my mother hissed.
I blinked.
Oh.
I’d stopped walking.
I hurried to catch up to her, a sick feeling curling in my gut. She was no doubt taking me to another infamous training exercise. Perhaps that was the cause of the flickering shadows.
Would a storm approach overhead? A tornado? Something destructive that I would have to use magic to fight?
At least we seem to be the only ones still here, I decided. Everyone else had disappeared.
Although, it was quite strange to be wandering these too-clean streets alone with my winged mother.
Am I dreaming?I wondered.
That… that actually might make sense.
Mainly because my mother was dead.
I halted again.My mother’s dead.That realization struck me in the heart, making my breathing quicken.
“I’m not dead, Camillia,” she said, facing me once more with a look of utter exasperation.
Did I say that out loud?I wondered, startled by her response.
“I’m a Virtuous Fae, not a human,” she went on. “And you’re a mixed breed, but your Virtuous Fae heritage is stronger than your Hell Fae genetics. Once you finish your task, your grandmother will ensure you’re a pureblood by burning that wretched side of you to ash.”
“What task?” I blurted out, completely lost. Her words were registering, but the meaning behind them was too unbelievable to make sense.
“Taking back the Virtuous Fae Source,” she replied, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “You’re a siphon, darling. Created with my blood and that of one of his Hell Fae creations. You were designed to absorb the light and restore Virtuous Fae kind.”
She stepped forward and pressed a palm to my cheek, her affection all wrong.
My mother had never liked touching me.
And I didn’t like being touched by her either.
