Page 117 of By the Moonbeam and the Mist
Steeler took a step toward him, his hand already raised in preparation. His body practicallyvibratedwith hostility.
But Barberro just looked over his head to meet my eyes.
“Dyonisia Reeve is not your mother, girl with curly hair.”
Steeler dropped his hand. I stumbled back a step, all my blood draining to my toes—in relief or shock, I couldn’t tell.
“W-what?”
Barberro smiled, his fangs glinting bright in the sunlight.
“Dyonisia Reeve is not your mother… but sheisyour aunt.”
“What?”
That came from Steeler, who furrowed his eyebrows at me, then shot his gaze back to Barberro.
“The queen hasn’t left her castle in the last five hundred years. There’s no way she would have snuck onto the island, got pregnant with a random Object Summoner at the Institute, had a baby, and let a human steal away her only heir.”
As harsh as those words seemed, I had to admit that Steeler was right. If the queen of Sorronia was as powerful as they claimed, Fabian wouldn’t have stood achancein his endeavor to keep me from the faerie world outside the dome.
Barberro’s smile grew wider as he cocked his head at my hair.
“Indeed. And I have seen Her Majesty’s genetic material many times before—I know it by heart. She isdefinitelynot mother either.”
“Then what the hell do you mean Dyonisia is Rayna’saunt?”
Barberro only raised his eyebrows at Steeler.
And it seemed to hit both of us at the same exact moment.
“By the orchid and the owl!” I nearly yelped.
“By the moonbeam and the mist,” Steeler said appraisingly, a smile slowly dawning on his face as his eyes painted me up and down with awe. “Rayna Reeve, indeed.”
Yes.
Yes, I was Rayna Reeve, daughter of one of the three royal sisters. Not Dyonisia, but her sister. Not the older one, not the queen, but…
“Chrysanthia,” I whispered.
And Barberro’s smug nod, tipped forward as he bowed in my direction, a hand against his broad chest, told me I was right.
My mother was the lost princess of Sorronia.
CHAPTER
35
“Wait.” I ignored Barberro’s bow, too overcome by the rattle of truth in my bones to fully process his dipped head. “How many years ago did you say Chrysanthia disappeared again?” I asked Steeler.
He began to pace in circles around me, his forehead furrowed in concentration.
“Five hundred.”
“Five hundred and seventeen, to be exact,” Barberro said, straightening and raising a finger.
“So… what would it be? Four hundred and ninety-eight years after her sudden disappearance, Chrysanthia showed up here? On the island?” I glanced up, as if to make sure the dome still loomed overhead. Sure enough, the faintest shimmer stretched across the sky through spare gaps in the bulging clouds. “But how would she have made it through her sister’s shield?”
