“And yet I hear you are already half bound to the new King,” she hisses at me. “You just can’t keep away, can you? How many more men in that family are you going to screw?”
“Fuck you,” I seethe at her. “You are a vile creature and I pity your daughter that she has to grow up with a wicked woman such as yourself. I will not be insulted by you any longer!” I am just about to puffport away and hope to the old gods that I actually end up where I had intended to go in the first place, when I pause. “Vito told me that you knew that Drake killed his daughter. What kind of a woman are you to stand by and let that happen?”
My parting shot hits home and I see her face crumple in pain. I leave her then in a cloud of smoke vowing never, ever to return here. They are all the same. A bunch of medieval rapists and murderers. Been there and done that and survived it already. I do not need a repeat, thank you very much. I hate them all and I will work every second to never turn into one of them.
Chapter 8
Cassis, France, January 2015 - Aefre
I land and look around quickly, hands up ready to do…whatever I can do without my Dragon magick. Fortunately, I can drop them instantly as I see that I am in fact where I wanted to be. Cassis. My home in Normandy that I have only been to once since CK gave it to me. I glance around and remember that there are no wards and I don’t know how to cast Fae ones.
I huff out a breath of frustration. It can’t be that hard to get a hold of this power and use it. All power is the same at its core. All it takes is the ability and concentration on what you want to achieve. And sometimes a spell, like with wards. Dammit! I have no Fae spell books and I can’t even remember the Demonic one because the Grimoire and all its power has been removed from my head (along with every other piece of information that was stored up there when I became Queen) Such a loss. I never did anything with it. Stupid woman.
I stop berating myself for things that I can’t change and focus on getting some sort of shadow cover up. Anders will be along shortly to complete this union; I have no doubt. I find it odd that I can remember what he did, and yet most of what Sebastian did to me is still in the ether, completely evading me, especially when I try to think about it. Anders said it would come back, but so far…nothing.
“Right,” I mutter and close my eyes. I hold out my hands and envisage the power that used to come out of my hands when performing this spell as a Dragon. To my utmost surprise, it starts to work and when I tell the power what to do, it lifts up and twirls around and then settles over the ceiling like a thick fog. Okay, so that didn't exactly work properly-what about upstairs, for instance, or the garden? I quickly take the stairs two at a time, passing through the fog to the second floor. I find the fog follows me and I am happy with that. It is my own personal little shield, I guess. Where I go, it goes.
I go slowly back downstairs and take in everything that has happened since Vito told me I was broken. Such an ugly word. Broken. I am not broken. Slightly...bent maybe, but not broken. Not un-fixed. Arsehole. How dare he judge me?
And don’t get me started on Constantine! I am furious with him for agreeing with that perception of me. I feel my face go red with anger, even as my heart breaks. I can’t be with him if that’s what he thinks of me. It’s just not possible. How will I ever know if that is what he is thinking every time I open my mouth or do something to annoy him, wishing I was fixed so that he didn’t have to put up with my ‘histrionics’ as he calls them?
I am about to burst into tears when a pink sparkle forms in front of me and then my baby is hovering ready to crash land to the floor if I don’t outstretch my arms to catch her.
“Thia,” I cry in utter joy at not only seeing her, but glad that she came to me, that she no longer sees me as a threat to her. I cuddle her close and then sense the presence of my husband. He is glowering at me, struggling to keep a hold of his temper.
“She came to me,” I say defiantly, before he can accuse me of taking her.
“Give her back. I need to get her home and get her safe,” he says.
“She is safe here,” I say hotly.
He gives my ceiling-fog a dubious look and then arches an eyebrow at me.
“It is more effective than it looks.” I defend my fog. “I have been here and not been captured again.”
I expect him to inquire as to the ‘again’, along with the fact that I am still wearing this stupid gown, but he doesn’t. He just holds out his arms for his daughter. “Arathia, if you please.”
“She wants me, she needs me,” I say, turning to the side so he can’t get to her.
“Of course she does. You are her mother. There is nothing stopping you from coming home.” He gives me a look, but it doesn’t encourage me to puffport my arse back to Ponte. In fact, it fires me up to do the exact opposite. He just expects me to come home like a good little girl...well, fuck that and him.
“I am home,” I say triumphantly, but any victory I was expecting is unforthcoming. His eyes go hard, and he takes a step forward.
“If that is how you feel, know that Arathia will not be staying here with you. She is coming back with me.” He holds his arms out for her again and she starts to cry. I don’t blame her. I feel like doing exactly the same. He is the one in the wrong and yet he is treating me like some sort of pariah. I am about to blurt out about what has just happened to me at the hands of the Fae, but what point would it serve?
None.
He would see it as my own idiocy for leaving the safety of the castle and think that I am being dramatic about what he and Vito said to me. The fact that I know this doesn’t escape me. Perhaps I am being silly, but it still hurts that he won’t acknowledge it. I can’t help the urge that I have to try and hurt him back somehow and by not being there is the only way I know how. He will miss me eventually, even if he is looking at me like shit on the bottom of his shoe right now.
I hand Thia to him. I have no option. He can take her from me as easily as taking candy from a baby. “I want to see her tomorrow.”
“I will bring her to you. You may have a supervised visit.” He takes her from me eagerly and then he is gone before I can respond.
A supervised visit? Like I am some sort of abusive parent in rehab? Is he fucking joking? It makes me so angry, tears sprout in my eyes and fall down my cheeks, as I collapse on the bottom stair in a heap of self-pity. This night has gone to the dogs.
I feel the presence before I see it.
“Frederick,” I snuffle into the hem of my gown. “What are you doing here?” And how? These wards don’t seem to be all that fantastic. Mind you, I am still here and not back in either of the Fae Kingdoms, so they must be doing something right.