Page 133 of A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic 2)
“What did you remember?”
“I thought I remembered flying,” I whisper. That idea has been what’s haunted me through these halls.
“I’m sure, to a child, falling from a great height must have felt like flying.”
“No, I—I think I actually flew. Clumsily. Not well. But…there’s no way Helen and I could’ve survived a fall from that height. No way I should’ve been able to catch up to her.” I continue staring at the bookshelf. My finger is still wedged in the missing spot between the journals. At the pieces falling into place that I wish desperately I could ignore. “Sometimes, ever since I came to Midscape, I’ve had these strange sensations of knowing, of belonging—”
“The ancient magic of kings.”
I give him a small glare in frustration. He’s not taking me seriously. Then again, I did just talk about flying. I haven’t been taking myself seriously for the past few days, either, with thoughts like that. But this damned bookshelf is forcing me out of my blissful ignorance. These things can no longer be ignored. “It’s more than just that memory though. Like these books. This one is missing…the book you used in the ritual that night came from here, didn’t it?”
“I believe so.” He sighs softly. “That book was one of the few to have ever escaped the High Court.”
“What are these books?” I dare to ask.
“Long ago there was a Court of Stars, seers of the fae. For every Aviness, they would record their destiny upon these pages with an ancient magic that could be read only by the individual. Every book on this shelf represents an Aviness lost… recorded by a magic that the Boltovs stamped out.”
I swallow thickly. I’m wrong. I have to be wrong. This is insanity.
“Do you know how my father got that book?” Please have a simple, logical explanation, I silently beg.
He shakes his head. “No one in the Acolytes could figure out how the book made it to your father’s estate. The last known person with Aviness blood was said to have escaped with it. She took it and ran, disappearing into the night.” I think of what Boltov said: the last true Aviness to escape my clutches. “It took ages for Vena to track the tome down to your father. At least the book got as far away from Boltov as possible. I’m sure it would’ve been reclaimed or destroyed otherwise. I tried for years to get your father to sell it to me but he would always refuse.”
What do I say? How can I explain this to him? Fear that Davien will see this secret I’ve kept as a great betrayal coats me. “That book…”
“It would’ve been impossible for you to know what it was as a human. Don’t feel bad.” He has no idea why my skin has gone clammy. “And your father, as a merchant, I’m sure he came across it at some point in his dealings. How it made its way across the Fade is a mystery, but I’m sure the last of the Aviness bloodline was just trying to keep it safe before Boltov got his hands on her. Stranger things have happened and—”
“That book was my mother’s,” I interrupt him. I’m unable to face Davien. Instead I stare at the place on the bookshelf where that tome should have been slotted. I pantomime fitting a book into the slot, my fingers sliding down the shelf to fall at my side.
That was it. The piece that was missing for everything to make sense. My gut wrenches and I’m not sure if I’m going to be sick or cry.
“What?”
“I told you, my birth mother wasn’t Joyce. My mother died when I was very young. She was the one who taught me all my songs. After she passed, my father forbade me from the woods, just like he forbade me to ever tell others who the book belonged to.” I face Davien. “I thought he was just being cautious, overprotective because Joyce destroyed everything of my mother’s. Or, I thought he wanted me to know how sentimental it was so I never gave it away.”
“And that’s why, when you saw me throw it into the fire—”
“I lunged after it. It was one of the two things that I had left of my mother.”
He grabs my shoulders, shaking me. Davien is beginning to see it, too. “The other thing of hers—you said it was your lute, right?”
“Yes.”
“The woman who should have been Queen Talahani Aviness was rumored to be an excellent musician. The songs you know, always knew, fae songs…” Davien’s grip goes slack. “No, no, it’s not possible.” He shakes his head, staggering away. “And yet, the songs, the secrecy, the scars on your back… Your memory of flying…Queen Talahani’s book being found at your father’s estate.”
“Wait, you don’t think—” It’s not possible. This can’t be possible.
“You summoned wings the day you fell. Your father didn’t let that woman burn you out of callousness. He let her burn you in a misguided and draconian human attempt to keep you safe—to keep you ‘normal’ by their standards. You sprouted wings and they clipped them.”
A shudder rips through me as the memories return in full. The memories I tried to repress but can no longer ignore. The memories of that day that made no sense to me as a girl and even less as an adult.
“My father knew too much about the fae,” I whisper. “I always thought it was chance. Or his proximity to the woods. Or the stories he’d encountered on his travels. No…he knew so much about the fae because he fell in love with one. He always said my mother wasn’t made for that world,” I echo my father’s sad lament. “He meant it because she was made for Midscape.”
“You’re half fae.” Davien steps back and leans against the bookcase as though he needs to catch his breath. “Queen Talahani was always rumored to have fled in an effort to save the bloodline. The Boltovs claimed they killed her, but her body was never found. Then the book the Boltovs were searching for—the one that Vena knew to look for through Allor—was discovered in the possession of your father. Talahani must have escaped to the Natural World. She must’ve fallen in love with your father, and given birth to you.”
“No, I can’t—I might be half fae, maybe, but I’m not—if I am, I’m sure my mother was some random fae. No one important.” I begin to laugh, slightly crazed, wholly overwhelmed. “You’re making no sense.”
“I’m making every sense. You thrive, even still, in Midscape. You can eat our food and live here without withering. The magic of the ancient kings went to you—not me—because you are the heir; you are the true heir. And you could not give me the power, without first formally being anointed, and then abdicating, because the crown should have been yours to begin with. I was wrong. So wrong. You weren’t a thief ever. You were claiming your birthright.” Davien runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head. He vibrates with disbelieving laughter. “For the past few days, I’ve been thinking that I would never find the heir. That our people would have to compromise with me and be condemned to uncertainty on my death. All along I’ve been thinking that I have to let you go but it’s not true. None of it is true!” He runs over to me and sweeps me up into his arms. “Katria, you were born to be the queen of the fae.”
