I rubbed my head. “So you had venom, vampire-killing venom, all this time? And you never helped the Damned, or—”
“I don’t care about the Damned, Amara! If I used my venom to help anyone—if Drake used it to help anyone, it would have given me away. The whole mission could've been compromised.”
“So you let them suffer because you wanted your mom back?”
Her jaw went tight, eyes small and sharp. “What would you do, Amara, to bring your mother back?”
“Well, that wouldn’t even be a question if Drake hadn’t killed her!”
“He—” she started, but mashed her lips tightly together and folded her arms like a smug little brat. “It was a means to an end.”
“A means to an end!” I stood up. “A means to an end?”
She stood, too. “Your life means nothing, Amara. You are a means to an end—all of this is. And as soon as that child is born, none of you will exist.”
“That’s where you're wrong,” I said smugly. “Drake swore to leave David on the throne, and that all my friends, my family and my people would be safe for eternity. And. . .” I paused to build suspense, just enjoying this moment: when she found out what else he promised, it would hurt her just as deeply as it hurt me to know my mother died for this cause. “He promised me eighteen years to raise my child.”
“What!”
“You heard me. He has the dagger now, so you won’t be seeing your dead mommy any time soon, Morgana. And, in the meantime, you need to find yourself a new job—and a new home.”
“You can’t kick me out!”
I turned toward the door. “I just did.”
She grabbed my arm and spun me around. “If I leave, people will ask questions. And Drake will just put another spy in place to watch over you.”
My eyes closed involuntarily around the truth.
“Better the devil you know,” she added.
“Fine.” I opened my eyes, hearing the old idiom in my head: keep your enemies close. “Stay. But you’re no longer on my council. Neither is David. And you will move your things out immediately and take them down to Jason’s old room.”
“Old room?” She frowned. “Where’s his new one?”
I rolled my head slowly higher, smirking. “You’re standing in it.”
“But—”
“You have twenty minutes.” I turned on my heel and walked from the room, leaving the door open on my way out.
Life is never lonelier than when you hide a truth that’s weighing you down. I looked across the dinner table at Falcon, then at Jason, just wishing I could tell someone, anyone what Drake had told me. All my council even knew was that Morgaine had been fired for siding with David too often and that we’d recently discovered the Dagger of Yahanna was useless. I didn’t tell them I’d met with Drake and I didn’t tell them I was the living re-manifestation of the former queen’s soul. I did lie and say Jason might have a toxic potion that could kill an original, and that was the only thing that kept them in their seats when they realised David couldn’t. The people, however, would remain under the impression that the dagger was safe and still as useful as before.
With time to think after the meeting today, everything Drake said sunk in bit by bit—pieces I didn’t want to think about rising to the front of my thoughts all afternoon. I wanted to fight—to find some way I could stop him from killing me in eighteen years, but that would mean putting the baby in danger and possibly making Drake angry enough to break our agreement.
But it wasn’t just that. I slumped on my hand. He killed my mom and my baby brother, and he did it because I refused to go to my dad’s that year. If I’d just gone—if I’d just stuck to the plans we made every year, they’d still be alive.
“Baby?” Mike laid his hand over mine.
I looked up from my lap and smiled.
“You okay?” he mimed, not actually speaking.
I nodded, rearranging my napkin in my lap.
“You look like you’re about to cry.”
My stupid chin quivered then. I drew a quiet but jagged breath and forced another smile, catching Falcon’s eye when he looked up. He gave me that look—the one asking what was going on, and when Jason frowned, noticing the exchange then turning his worried eyes on me, I couldn’t help it; a soft breath burst from between my lips, and I sobbed hard at the dinner table, with Mike’s arms suddenly wrapping me, my tears falling onto my plate.
“What’s going on?” David stood and threw his napkin down.
“Uh, just . . . pregnancy hormones,” Emily said casually, running over with her arms flailing about in the air.
A few people laughed affectionately, and I was swept out of the room, not really knowing whose hands were guiding me.
“I don’t know,” Mike said, answering some question I hadn’t heard. “I asked her what’s wrong, and she just. . .”
“Mike, don’t you know? Never ask someone what’s wrong if they look they’re about to cry,” Emily said, sliding her arm around me. “Ara? What happened? Did David—”
“No.” I moved away from her. “David didn’t do anything. I . . . I just needed some air.”
She looked at Mike, and he threw his hands up, backing away. “Girl stuff. Got ya. I’ll leave you to it.”
I wanted to grab him and ask him to stay—wanted to tell him that the woman he grew up with beside me died for no good reason. It wasn't an act of God or Fate. It was murder. Senseless murder. But he would, at the very least, cause a scene over it. No one would understand my anger and agony better than him. But I just couldn't trust him to stay calm if he knew. So, I let him walk away, Em and I smiling as he gave some obviously hilarious explanation to smooth things over back in the Great Hall. David made a smart remark that I didn’t hear, but I also didn’t care what he said about me.
“Ara.” Falcon turned me to face him, closing Emily out of the circle. “What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
He frowned at me, his hands going tighter on my arms for a second, his eyes narrowing in question, slightly flicking on to Emily.
I shook my head. She wasn’t the reason I couldn’t talk.
“Ara,” he said, “You know you can trust me with anything, even if it was something you weren't allowed to tell anyone.”
“Can I trust you not to do anything about it, to act as if I never told you?”