“Your true face?”
He gathers the curtains in both hands and takes a deep breath. “It’s easier if I show you.”
Hauling the curtains open, he steps back.
Gilt lines the edges of the enormous portrait. A serene woman stands there, her hands resting on the battlements I recognize from the palace, and her blonde hair blowing back in the wind. A banner with the Rising Sun of Ceres snaps in the wind behind her, and golden rays of sunshine highlight every inch of her face.
I gasp.
She’s beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Or perhaps I’m biased, because I recognize those green eyes and full mouth. The same finely cut cheekbones adorn Thiago’s face, and they share the same brows, though hers are plucked thinner than his.
What does this…?
“Queen Araya.” His fingers find mine. “The last ruling queen of Evernight. When she died, the wards shielding Valerian from the snow and the dark finally shattered, and now the city dwells in almost eternal darkness, for her light no longer warms the world.”
“She’s your mother,” I blurt, because there can be no other answer for the similarity between them.
His lashes shield his eyes. “Yes. Though my birth was a matter of secrecy and I was never formally recognized. The only one who ever knew the truth was her son, Arawn.”
His brother.
Who had gone to war with him over the throne when Araya died.
It all makes so much sense now.
He’d spoken of the two princes—Arawn and Emyr—but never with any kindness. They had blamed him for the queen’s murder, and he’d been forced to kill Emyr in his escape.
“How…. Why? Why was your birth a secret?”
“You know the answer to that, Vi,” he says, looking at me with his smoky eyes.
He’s bastard-born, but marriage lines are not vital when it comes to the fae. The Seelie kingdoms are matrilineal, which means mothers are always given first rights when it comes to any children they birth. Even if the father remains unknown, there is never any shame….
Unless….
I’ve seen his wings, his horns, and his eyes when the Darkness rises within him. My mother always called him “Unseelie” and spat when she said his name. And though he uses his illusions to hide the wings and horns, there’s always a hint of the otherworld about him.
“Your father?”
Thiago’s face shutters. “Is unimportant.”
“If he was unimportant,” I point out, “then there would be no reason to hide the truth.” I squeeze his hand. “I know this is hard for you. If you don’t wish to speak of it, then I won’t ask again.”
Thiago turns toward me. “The creature who sired me was one of Queen Angharad’s bannermen, and I don’t believe my mother was granted the… the choice to submit to him. She was captured in the north by his warband and imprisoned in Falkirk for a month. I don’t know the details, because once my mother escaped, she never spoke of the ordeal again. She locked herself away in Valerian and ruled for the next year from the north with only her most trusted by her side, and it’s said that when she returned to Ceres, she would not speak of the past year.”
A year.
A year in which to hide a pregnancy and—
“And you?” I whisper.
“I told you once that Old Mother Hibbert accepts all lost and abandoned children and raises them herself.” His thumb rasps down my cheek. “I never knew my mother when I was a child. All I remember is a little cottage in the wilds and dozens and dozens of children.” He glances up at the painting, the stiff line of his shoulder betraying him. “They say she was strong and ferocious in her youth—a battle hungry queen—but by the time I arrived in Ceres, hoping to win her attention, she’d become a shade of her former self. She preferred to pretend her court was gaiety and light and ignore the shadows around its edges. She would not hear of trouble in her lands and often retired to her chambers of a night with her wine.”
“And so your brothers had free rein,” I guess.
“I don’t know if I can even blame them for looking for power. They lacked in attention, and so they sought it elsewhere.”
“Why hide her painting? She should have been honored to have you as her son, and perhaps the townspeople won’t… won’t think you an outsider.”
Or her murderer.
Thiago presses his fingertips to the oils of her robes before he turns away with a sigh. “I don’t know. Habit, perhaps. Or perhaps…. All I’ve ever known are the shadows. It’s safer there. If others knew of our link, then there are ways that information can be used against me.” He looks up at the portrait one more time before he draws the curtains closed and seals the wards with his blood so none may peek. “Besides, if I announce our kinship to the world, there will be questions asked about the other side of my heritage, and I want her to remain untainted.”
He shouldn’t be forced to bear this burden. “You’re not tainted.”
Thiago smiles bitterly, holding out his hands. “You’ve barely seen a glimpse of the truth, Vi.”
I take them and stretch up onto my toes to kiss his lips. “If you were tainted then you wouldn’t have spent thirteen years patiently trying to win my love, only to have me forget you the next time we met. And I’m more than a match for your darkness.” I smile at him. “Evil mother, remember? Possibly an evil father too.”
It steals a half smile from him.
“Oh, Vi. Everything is so easy when it comes to you. Come.” He drags me toward the fountain in the center of the courtyard, where the moon hovers, fat and bloated, on the silvery waters. We walk hand in hand until Thiago gestures for me to sit on the
