“Yes.” My mom jerked her head again, a sort of tic. Her hands trembled a bit more before stopping. She shook her head. “Queen can’t do much against this.” She tapped the needle against the chair, but she fumbled it. I winced as the needle fell, skittering across the linoleum floor.
“For the best,” she said, staring at it longingly from her chair. “For now.”
My mom was a drug addict.
The realization struck me as hard as any punch my dad had landed. After all this time…
First, I’d thought she’d abandoned me. Even when my dad said she was a druggie—that she’d overdosed—I’d never believed him. I thought instead that she’d saved herself. Still not mother-of-the-year material, but then Deena said she’d died exactly like my dad had said. But when I’d found out my parents were really fae, I’d started to hope I’d have a mother among them—albeit a twisted one who farmed me out as a changeling. But that was yanked from me, too. I was told she was dead yet again.
But now, right in front of me—proof positive—was my mother. A drug addict who was trying to save me—save us—from the queen.
Tears stung my eyes, and I didn’t know whether to be happy because she was alive or to cry because she was living like this—all for the hope that I’d go through the investiture and—and what?
If she was planning on getting clean—of bringing the queen back into her mind… Realization swept through me, the pieces clicking together.
With the queen in my mother’s mind, there wouldn’t be any power in the investiture staff. When I was crowned, nothing would happen—everyone would think the process was broken. I would be free!
Had that really been what she’d planning for all these years?
I stared at my mother, trying hard to look past the yellowed eyes, the sagging skin.
But what about her?
I swallowed. “After the investiture—after this last time—no more drugs?” I avoided Deena’s gaze, the pity seeping from it.
My mom didn’t even glance at me, her eyes glued to the needle lying on the floor. “Without them…” Shaking her head, she dragged her gaze back to mine. “I did it for you, though. I’m chose this” —she gestured down at her emaciated body and flashed a mottled-brown smile— “so you could be free.”
The taste of bile filled my mouth. How long had she been on drugs? And what were they? Maybe she could get off of them. We’d find her a good program somewhere and…
But even as I grasped at the possibility she could become the mother I’d always craved, I couldn’t close my eyes and ignore the truth staring at me in the face. She would never be the person that six-year-old me had envisioned—she looked as if there was no coming back.
But maybe fae were different…maybe there was hope for her after all this.
But as soon as I had the thought, I shook it away. If I did the investiture—if everything worked out the way she’d planned—then what? She’d go off drugs and let the queen overtake her? That didn’t make any sense. What was she planning on doing, muscling the queen out of her mind again by shooting up again?
In my gut, I knew that was exactly what she was planning.
The silence stretched on longer and longer, filling me with the need to say something—anything.
“Th-thank you.” The words sounded empty, even to my own ears. I scoured my brain for something else to say, but shock had dampened my ability to focus on anything other than the haggard face of the stranger in front of me.
My mother, I corrected myself.
My stomach twisted into knots until I had to look away from her. I turned back to Caleb.
“Will you go back, Kella?”
I swallowed. “I-I’ll go back, but first I need to help him.”
Silence. A backward glance told me she was staring at the needle across the floor.
I swallowed and stepped toward Caleb. Uncertain of what to do, I placed my palm on the inside of his elbow. His skin warmed my hand, and I might have felt a tingle of energy, but aside from that, nothing.
I focused on the tingle and closed my eyes. Heal, I thought to myself—to the magic Mickey said was inside of him. Heal. I tried to imagine my magic listening, obeying.
After a few minutes, Deena coughed. I cracked open my lids to see if anything had changed, but no such luck. Not a big surprise. I’d been sure I’d feel something when I was using magic, but so far, I hadn’t felt a thing.
Maybe I had to touch the site of the injury.
I looked down at his abdomen, took a breath, and placed my trembling fingers over his hospital gown.
Nothing. Even the tingle was absent now.
This wasn’t happening. He should be healing. It was my magic keeping him alive and now that I was closer, it should be stronger.
Maybe it needed to be skin-to-skin to work…
I searched his body, fumbling around for a convenient hole or tie for easy access.
“Kella, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Deena asked.
“No, she doesn’t,” that hoarse voice said. I looked back to see my mother, a weary expression pinching her face.
“Can you tell me how to heal him?”
No response.
“How do I get Caleb better? Nothing I’m doing is working. It’s not—it has to, but… You know what I need to do. Help me!”
My mom shook her head. “You help him by completing the investiture.”
“No! No, I need to heal him before…I think Mickey or Edon or someone is going to kill him so I get my magic back.”
Something like sadness flashed across her face at the mention of my dad’s name. She shook her head. “He won’t kill him. Not with me here. He doubts me. He doubts my strength… But I won’t fail…” She trailed off as if lost in thought.
“Mickey…” I hesitated, part of me not wanting to know—to not have one more item added to the list of things he
