Page 50 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
Heat flared into the arches of my ears. “Then maybe we should’ve been told years ago!”
“Well, you weren’t,” he retorted. “It was your father’s right to decide when you learned the truth. It wasn’t our place to question him. Now, listen to your aunt.”
I slammed back into the couch.
Aunt Aylie lifted her chin and skipped ahead. “As the Dagda’s favorite son, Boderg the Red received the throne and the fertile eastern lands, where it was always spring. He named this place Evereostre.”
The mention of that place subdued me, even if Uncle Neel couldn’t.
“But for Cermait, the Dagda granted nothing,” Aunt Aylie stated. “He recognized what Cermait had become—an entitled, selfish tyrant, far too prone to wickedness to serve nature or our people. The fact that he’d gambled away all the magical guilds’ sacred jinxes—think of them as enchanted pets—was proof enough for him.
“Cermait was granted a lower title—a place in Boderg’s court—but his jealous nature spurred him to scorn his father’s offer—and Boderg for being given the power he craved.
“So, Cermait withdrew from his family and set off on his own. He settled in a wasteland beyond the mountains bordering Evereostre and the Summer Court, Lithalaly. He named his barren climes Covenlen, but we’ve always called them the Shadow Court.”
The hairs prickled along my nape. Both the phone thief and Briar had mentioned something about a Shadow Prince the night before.
“Some followed Cermait to that forsaken land, as hooked on the void as he was,” Aunt Aylie said. “His court refused to pay Boderg or his descendants homage. Boderg didn’t care; he looked at Cermait as little more than a fly on his neck. However, Cermait Honey-Mouth was cleverer than his brother knew.
“He began subtly disrupting order, spreading fear and doubt over Boderg’s right to rule. He sowed propaganda, inciting dissent—most of which the crown always managed—and clung to his self-appointed reeveship well after his brothers moved onto the next life, passing their titles and the throne to their sons. He even changed his name, so younger generations wouldn’t associate him with Cermait Honey-Mouth’s misdeeds.”
“What did he change it to?” Ace asked.
“Gentian. Erybos Gentian.”
I frowned, having also heard the name Gentian while eavesdropping last night.
“He still lives, running—”
“Wait.” Vi gasped. “How can this man still be alive? Wasn’t his father the first Danann king? Back before we—I mean, mankind—even existed?”
“Yes,” Uncle Neel answered. “But in our world, time and aging don’t work the way they do here. In our world, time pockets are everywhere—some move faster, others slower. In some instances, time doesn’t move at all.”
“Then how old are you?” Ace grunted.
Aunt Aylie’s sharp glance was as good as a swat aback the head. “That question is just as rude in our society as it is here, Acer.”
Ace scowled.
Uncle Neel eyed him but continued without scolding. “And some lucky fae are gifted with the ability to revert to an age they’ve previously lived, so they can renew their life over and over again.”
“Are we immortal?” I asked.
Briar leaned forward in his seat, resting elbows on knees. “No, we can still die of old age—if we allow it to happen. Of course, with the many ways to slow age progression, we can live a very long time. Most of us eventuallychooseto move onto the next life.”
I met his solemn gaze, supposing he wasn’t as young as he looked. The liar.
Uncle Neel cleared his throat, moving along. “Gentian is by far the oldest fae in our realm. He now runs several businesses throughout the kingdom, amassing great wealth and political power. He claims he doesn’t covet the throne, but sources say he secretly works against the ruling family, hoping to foment rebellion. He wants the people to revolt and install him as king. His efforts, unfortunately, are quite effective, and he causes great unrest in the lower classes. He’s convinced the people he cares for them, but he cares for absolutely nothing but himself and his revenge. If king, he’d eat the people of our world for breakfast to sate his greed.”
“He wants revenge?” Vi asked. “On who? His father?”
Uncle Neel nodded. “Yes—and on Boderg.”
“But aren’t they both dead?” she reasoned. “I mean—they moved onto the next life.”
“Millennia ago,” Aunt Aylie confirmed.
Talk about holding a grudge.
