As Strict slowly stood, hands patiently folded behind him, Check let out a gasp and stepped forward, kneeling in the snow. Fearless looked as clueless as I felt, but Grieve—my beloved Grieve hung his head and slowly knelt before the aging man.
“Am I the only one left out of the loop?” I didn’t like being the odd one out when it came to things like this. I never liked surprises—be they a birthday party or an unwelcome trap. I’d dealt with too many unexpected snafus and bugaboos over the years.
The man stood, his clothes shifting to take on the appearance of a feathered cloak like mine, beneath which he wore brown trousers and a tunic. There was something oddly familiar about him. He looked . . .
“Oh my gods . . . Wrath . . .” This couldn’t be my father, and yet the resemblance was uncanny.
“No, I am not your father, Cicely. My name is Hunter, and I’m Wrath’s father. I’m your grandfather.”
And with that the world fell away.
Chapter 4
“Grandfather? You’re my grandfather?” I didn’t know how to react. I’d barely gotten a chance to know my father, let alone learn anything about his heritage. The only thing I knew is that he had been born into the Court of Snow and Ice. Check had been his oath brother, pledged to marry Lainule, but the moment she laid eyes on my father, the rest was history. Wrath had fallen in love with her and changed his loyalty to the Court of Rivers and Rushes. That my guard leader bore them no ill will both humbled and amazed me, but Check had become their most loyal supporter.
Hunter slowly circled me, eyeing me up and down, his expression carefully set to neutral. I restrained any impulse to throw my arms around his neck and give him a hug. One thing I’d learned the hard way, starting with my mother, is that blood didn’t always mean fealty.
“My son did you a disservice by not telling you about your heritage early on.” Hunter did not look pleased. “You have much to learn. You know nothing about your people—my people. I know”—he held up his hand when I started to protest—“I realize this is not your fault, but you must spend time with us, to understand what your heritage and lineage means.”
My heart leaped. This is what I wanted, though I wondered if the Uwilahsidhe would resent me, considering my background. Hell, when it came down to it, I knew very little about the history of the magic-born, either. Krystal had kept me in the dark. Whatever she’d been taught, she’d repressed with the booze and drugs, and a deep disdain for her own abilities.
“You wouldn’t mind teaching me?” As I spoke, my voice cracked, and I realized this meant more to me than I could ever have imagined.
The only family member who’d ever truly loved me was my aunt Heather, and she was long gone now. I’d had to play a part in her death, which still hurt. Rhiannon and I were rebuilding our relationship—so far, so good. But when it came down to it, Ulean was the closest thing to family that I had left. She alone I trusted not to let me down. While Grieve was my husband and I loved him with all my heart, I also knew how fragile love could be. It was hard to let myself believe that we might have our happy-ever-after ending.
I guess Hunter sensed my need because he paused, staring down into my eyes, and his face filled with a compassion that I seldom saw in any of the Cambyra. He placed his hand on my shoulder.
“My granddaughter. I know your story, and I know what you’ve been through so far in your short life. It’s never easy to be destiny’s pawn, nor to believe that your existence was engineered merely to fill a need. You are Wrath’s daughter. You are my blood. Beyond the crown you wear on your head, beyond the title you assumed . . . you are my family, and I will do what I can to help you connect with your roots.” He backed away then, turning to Strict. “I have scouts I trust. They are wild and feral, belonging more to the wing than to any Court or allegiance. I will send them on reconnaissance to see if we can search for the upstart and her armies.”
And with that he turned to go, but stopped. He glanced over his shoulder and, looking at me, said, “I will be in touch, girl. Now is not the time to begin your studies, though I know you are champing at the bit. But after this war is over, we will take wing and fly together. You will learn what it truly means to be one of the Uwilahsidhe. Half-blood . . . is as good as full.”
And then he shimmered and in a blur, transformed back into his owl form, and winging his way through the falling snow, he vanished into the depths of the Golden Wood.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I had a grandfather. I had family and roots. Krystal and Heather had spoken very little of their parents. My mother and her sister had been closed mouth. After Heather died, Rhiannon had confided that she’d found nothing about our relatives in the trunks that had remained undamaged during the fire at the Veil House. Our mothers had been chosen by the Fae. Rhiannon’s father was also Cambyra Fae, but a snake-shifter.
Neither of us had known the truth about our fathers until the past few weeks. We were still navigating our way through the labyrinth of what felt like a conspiracy surrounding our birth. And truth was we had been bred for the thrones of Winter and Summer. Hunter was correct in his statement that our very existence had been engineered. We were created to fill a need rather than conceived out of love. So many unanswered questions remained, that I doubted we’d ever know the full story.
I turned back to Grieve, who smiled at me. He held out his arms, and I slipped into his embrace, pressing my head against his chest.
“I have a grandfather,” I whispered.
“I know.” He kissed the top of my head. “Hunter is very old and very wise, and from what little I know about him, he seldom takes form in human shape anymore. He’s one of the elders of your father’s people, you know.”
“I didn’t know, but it doesn’t surprise me.” The wind was picking up, and the snow was starting to fall harder. As much as I wanted to shift into owl form and follow my grandfather, he was right—now was not the time.
When—if—we all came out of this war intact, then I would try to forge a relationship with him. A spark in my heart told me that I’d be very disappointed if it didn’t work out. Family had always been important to me, but I’d had to push the desire into the background in order to put my focus where it had mattered: surviving day to day, and sometimes hour to hour.
“We’d best get a move on. Rhiannon will be waiting for us—I sent word for them to meet us at the Veil House, and though I said it was important, I gave no clue as to what, in case the messenger . . . well . . . in case whoever carried the message happens to be the spy we’re searching for.”
“What will you do about the others? About Luna and Peyton and Kaylin?” Grieve let out a heavy sigh. “We have to figure out a way to test them.”
“I know what to do about everyone except Kaylin, but in a sense he’s the most important. He can examine their minds, but who can look into his heart and find out if he’s safe?”
A little voice inside me whispered, How can you ever trust anybody? Sometimes you just have to step away from the fear and take a leap of faith.
With that thought ringing in my mind, I nodded, and we headed out again as Strict made his good-byes and returned to the Eldburry Barrow.
The Veil House had belonged to my aunt Heather, and before her my grandmother and great-aunt. From what little I knew, the house at the end of Vyne Street had belonged to the women of the family for generations. It was also centered over a major ley line—an energy vortex. Aunt Heather had figured that out from notes in a journal we’d found. What she’d planned to do with that knowledge neither Rhiannon nor myself had figured out, and we might never know, but even if we couldn’t reason out why Heather had researched it, we might be able to make use of the knowledge in the future.