Page 102 of Death of a Mortal

I had the dark, umbra magic of an Umbrathren. Was my umbra ability shadow magic? I thought over all the times I felt the dark, angry thing in my heart rearing its head, screaming for vengeance, controlling my emotions. That unfortunately sounded exactly like dark magic…I felt tainted. Like my own heart was something to be feared.

Clearly, I also had the fire element, but Malvina seemed to think I was Veythryn also? How could she know? As far as I knew I hadn’t changed, just erupted into flames and started spouting shadows all over the place. It made me think of the day Aemilia’s magic had emerged, when I was about seven or so. I’d been on the other side of the playground, but there was a little boy that she’d electrocuted.We never spoke of him, but now that I’d felt her lightning, my gut churned at the thought that she may have killed that boy that day.

A murderer before she could wipe her own ass.

At one point talking with the prince, I’d wondered what it would be like to have a vey form. Now, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if Ididhave one, it was something like Caedryn’s…a Pyrrath. Something I hoped with everything I had left that I wasn’t.

And if I truly was fae, I had to be half-fae at most. I knew Cassius was mortal, and I’d always assumed my mother was, too. But the only logical explanation for what happened was that she was fae and therefore I was half-fae.

I was still disgusted by that. I struggled to accept it, but there was no denying.

The queen also told me that the cuffs on my wrists are ability-blocking, which is why the beast in my chest is currently sleeping without a stir.

And with everything I was learning about my heart and what Noxie had said about magic living there, I clung to the hope that the cuffs were blocking my connection to him and he was still alive out there somewhere. Our connection finally made sense, and I prayed so hard that one day I’d get to tell him that he wastrulymy Familiar. That the magic in my heart held captive had prevented our bond from truly forming.

I hoped one day I’d experience the true bond with him. The only thing about my magic that I saw as a good thing was finding him.

This was also the first time I gave any real thought to the mortals back in the ballroom, wondering with deep sadness what the king had done with all of them. There was a genuine possibility that they were all dead. Caedryn was deranged enough that night to do it.

Surely, he needed their servitude, right? No way anyfaewere doing laundry and cleaning chamber pots.

It wasn’t until I overheard a whispered conversation between Dumb and Round some days later that I got an inkling of what had happened the rest of that night.

“I’ve definitely lost weight. That new cook doesn’t know what he’s doing! Food used to be so much better. I mean, he’s a kid.”

Halden.

Had to be. He was the only young mortal in the kitchen; the rest had been well into adulthood.

And if he was cooking, he was alive. But the rest of the cooks must have been killed…

Caedryn had killed more mortals after Nella, but not all of them.

“It’s definitely taking longer to get my uniforms back from the laundry too. Wish the king hadn’t killed quite so many of the servants.”

“Yeah, but it was a spectacle, though,” Round said with a chuckle.

It made my stomach turn.

Murder was a spectacle here, mortal deaths laughable—another reason I didn’t want to be fae. I quickly licked my teeth and touched the tips of my ears. Thankfully, I found my canines weren’t sharp and my ears were still rounded. I didn’t think I could bear looking like one of them. I guessed my magic had been blocked at a young enough age that my body grew as a mortal one. Thank gods for small consolations.

I wondered about how that had happened—when it happened and who’d bound my magic to mortality. Not even an inkling of a theory came to me.

“I tell you what, though. I don’t envy that mortal who confessed to being the rebel insider. I could still hear the screams from that big laundry lady long after the king’s fire stopped. His vey still gives me the chills.”

Miss Melda. She was the big laundry lady. The rest of the ladies with us had been thin.

My heart ached. Miss Melda had been so kind to us when we first arrived, motherly even. She looked out for us.

And she was a rebel. Or she had lied and sacrificed herselfto stop the mass murder. I thought the latter sounded more likely, with a sharp pang of grief.

I couldn’t take any more loss.

“Not quite so chilling as the fiery shadows that came out ofthatone, though. I’ve never seen anything like it, ever. No one has.”

That onewas me. They feared me.

Good, they should.