Page 153 of Death of a Mortal

Gods, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m going back.

I didn’t want to feel pity for Varyn, but somewhere deep down, the sharp edges of my bitterness at his betrayal softened—if only a little.

It was hard to imagine anyone loving Cassius the way my mother seemed to on these pages. Maybe the desertion by both my mother and Nella’s made him the way I know and see him.

The way he was when he was cruel to me.

There are three children in Cassius’s and my house now. My Naci and two more. But that bitch is nowhere in sight. I’ve been in Briarstead for three days, and she hasn’t been there once. And Cassius…he’s not right. He’s angry and…different. My Naci has grown so much, and I want to go to her. I think she may have seen me watching her at school during outside playtime yesterday, but she wouldn’t have recognized me even if she had.

She has two young half sisters now. One looks just like the whore who wrecked the home I once had. The other, the youngest, looks more like Cassius. Nella, I heard her called. She looked at Naci the same way I always did, like she was divine and worthy, and gods, I can’t just sit here and watch from afar. Tomorrow I’m going home. I need my daughter and husband. The rest didn’t matter. I could grow to love the other children like my own and forget about the cunt. I love Cassius and, gods, I want my daughter to know who I am and that I love her too.

Tomorrow.

That tomorrow never came. My mother didn’t come back.

The death of Varyn’s mother and rumors of a maiden didn’t interest me right then. More tears fell, but they were angry tears now, my beast stretching its claws over my own mother. Why the hell hadn’t this tomorrow ever come?

I slammed the journal shut, thinking I didn’t want to read any more. Yes, I liked knowing she regretted it, that she missed me, and that she wanted to come back. But she hadn’t. I grew up alone, with an angry, abusive Cassius.

The day she watched me playing at school, she had turned around and left. The beast was pumping rage through my veins, my hands gripping the edge of Drayce’s table with white knuckles.

Drayce.

I thought of him and my promise not to burn down his house, and the anger receded slightly.

But not before black scorch marks grew under my hands. I snatched them back.

I took a deep breath…I would keep my cool and keep reading. Secretly, deep down, though, I wanted the rage. I wanted to be angry. And gods, I wanted to know who this female was that had ruined my life over and over.

I reopened the journal.

Recruiting has been strong over the last few months. I found a young male on one of my missions to Calyxmoor that may be one of the strongest fae I’ve ever encountered. I could tell he was troubled, so I asked him to join us. I trusted him right off the bat. And he…trusted me too. He was quiet, but he didn’t hesitate.

I wanted to give him a purpose. And it felt like something connected us. Something I couldn’t explain.

So he’s here now, training basically all day every day, trying to outrun his demons. His water magic is relentless, and he says he’s a Veythryn, but I’ve yet to see his vey form. I think he keeps it hidden away for a reason, maybe tied to his trauma from his childhood. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s strong.

This male will be the future leader of this rebellion, I know it. He knows what’s at stake and why we fight, why we endure.

He is our future.

My heart stopped. Broody male with a vey form no one has seen. Relentless water magic.

The glass slipped from my hand and fell over on the table, spilling its contents. This must be Drayce. He’d said my mother found him.

Gave me a purpose,he’d said to me.

This journal was where my past and present collided. My mother was the center of it all.

There was only one entry left. I wiped my tears, steeling my nerves. I knew this was it. She was gone after this journal ended, after this entry.

It’s been five years since I left Briarstead for the first time. Naci, if you’re reading this, I’m so godsdamned sorry. I still can’t figure out why the all-consuming obsession with this rebellion was enough to take me from you, and I hate myself every day for it. Something isn’t right, not with me or my mind, and not with Ashenholt, not with the world. I hope one day you get this and you carry on my legacy, fighting the good fight.

But if you don’t want to be a soldier, I hope you become a writer or a healer. Or a noble lady to a kind lord in Elyndor, or the wife of a blacksmith who loves you as much as I loved Cassius. I hope you become whatever you want to be, so long as it makes you happy. Wars will rage, now and in the future, here and there. If you’re happy and you live, that’s all I, your loving mother, care about. But live Naci, really live, not in fear, not in silence, but in loud, fiery bliss. That is my wish for you.

And if you read this, my beautiful girl, I’m so sorry for the mistakes I made. At one point, I did all of this because I thought I could change the world for you. That one day I could come home, and the world around you would be brighter and tolerant and full of opportunity. You were born fae, my fiery darling. I could already feel your power growing when you were just a babe. I just wish I could be there to see it emerge. But more than that, you were born strong, damned gods-touched, if you ask me (I know I’m your mother and biased, but still, that’s what I think).

Even if it was sometimes marred by thoughts of revenge, anger, andretribution, even if sometimes the fog that ensnared me blocked it out…my heart never forgot about you, never stopped missing you, and never stopped wishing I hadn’t gone down this path. Sometimes I don’t understand how I got here, but all I can do now is hope that I’m leaving behind something for you to be proud of.