Chapter 12

I slipped into the main house unnoticed and went up to Lorelei’s room, where I paced relentlessly as I tried to decide my next move.

If you can't hide your wrong deeds, hide yourself instead. I'd adopted the policy, and yet here I was laid bare, my truest self, raw and unhidden for all the world to see and judge.

The hag witch’s undoing of my glamour would be a major crimp in any plans I had for getting to know my real mother. I was the villain. The antagonist in a long-standing tragedy that involved everyone and everything she loved. Vivienne had no idea I was her daughter, and even if I told her who I really was, there was no reason she’d believe me. I was and would always be a monster.

Padding around Lorelei’s baby blue room, my fingers skimmed across the surface of every object on her dresser, pausing at a photo of her and Adrius. They looked... happy. It made my stomach churn. Adrius might no longer have been bound to me by magic, but I didn’t need enchantments to know the spark between us was real and true. I felt it, and he must have felt it, too. And where there’s a spark, there’s a fire waiting to burn. I smiled to myself and sashayed from the dresser over to her desk.

Nothing interesting on the top, but I pulled open the top drawer and... goldmine. Journal, sketchbook, all sorts of notes and letters and music... a ridiculous amount of music. I pulled out one page after another. She not only sang, but she also composed? I set it aside, ignoring the urge to burn them all, right along with her perfect house and perfect life and perfect world.

The pages of her sketchbook were filled with an arrangement of drawings. Most from my world. That wasn’t the odd thing. It was that they were all dated long before she’d ever set foot in the Nevermore. As if she’d dreamed up images from Mythlandria and the Faery Islands without ever being there to see them with her own eyes. Perhaps there was more to all of this than I knew.

The journal was the last thing I opened, saving the best ‘til last. This was what I’d wanted... a first-class ticket into her head. To see what went on in her pretty little mundane mind. I turned to the most recent post, dated just before she returned to the Nevermore with Zanthiel.

May 12th – Venus is pure evil. She deserves to die.

Permanently, this time.

“Hm.” I slammed it shut. “That went well.”

With a deep breath, I opened it again, moving across the room to sit on her bed.

May 11th – I’ve been over things in my mind more times than I can count. There is no other way. Adrius is gone. She is gone, and I’m here alone, and in just as much pain as before. Only this time there’s a way out. I have to convince Zanthiel. Make him see I need to go back, not for him, but for me this time.

May 10th – Abby thinks I might love them both. As in Adrius and Zanthiel. How could that be true? I mean, if I loved him, wouldn’t I know it? Wouldn’t it register somewhere inside me as real? Right now, it seems more like our feelings are tangled in this massive knot that can’t be undone. None of the feelings I feel seem real, or even my own. There’s something, sure... but love? This is crazy. Abby’s been reading too many romance novels.

I’m fine.

This isn’t love. It’s gratitude.

Maybe.

I closed the book. So, princess blue was in love with Zanthiel. Still trying to deny it, but I saw the display they put on at Mythlandrian court. They might have set out to convince the realm they were genuinely a couple, but underneath their pretense was truth. It was the pretense that was false. I’d suspected as much that night, just not for the right reason. I’d assumed they were lying to us, but in truth, they were lying to themselves. I twirled a lock of hair around my finger. He was as in love with her as she was with him. And that meant... neither of them would ever come between Adrius and me again.

“Isobel?” Vivienne’s voice drifted up the stairs.

“Just a moment,” I called back.

I leapt to my feet and darted to the desk. Hastily, I tugged open the top drawer, but pulled too hard. It fell from the rails, slipped from my hand, and crashed onto the floor. Dropping to my knees, I grabbed all the contents... papers, pens, colored pencils, an absurd number of hair elastics. I paused. Footsteps had reached the top of the stairs. Doubling my efforts, I crammed everything back in the drawer and tried to shove it back in place. Go in, you stupid thing. With one final push, it slid back in place and slammed shut, catching the tip of my finger.

“Ouch.”

The footsteps were closer now, just beyond the door to Lorelei’s room. What should I do? Hide... leave...? I looked around then decided not to panic—and spotted the photo of Lorelei and Adrius. I grabbed it just as the door swung open.

I spun around wide-eyed to face a woman who was not Vivienne.

Her eyes narrowed when she saw me. “Who are you?”

It wasn’t a friendly or pleasant tone. It was accusatory. As if she knew not only who I was but what I’d been doing. I hid both hands behind my back casually. And leaned them against the desk.

“I’m Isobel.” I forced a smile. One she did not return. “I’m staying here with my... ” I cleared my throat. “With Vivienne for a few days.”

“Aye, that much I’ve heard. But who are ye really? Where did you come from?”

She had a thick Irish accent. Like so many back home. It was odd, but I wanted her to like me—though, by the mistrust in her eyes, that was not possible. “I’m an exchange student. And oddly enough, a distant relative.” I laughed a little. “Vivienne and I spent hours trying to trace back our family tree, and we didn’t get very far. I came to meet my relatives. For a project.”

She did not believe a word I said. Her eyes narrowed, and her meaty hands formed fists, which she planted on her wide hips. “I see.” Her gaze coursed the room.

I lifted my chin. “I thought I might get to know my distant cousin Lorelei a little better if I came in and looked around. Hope that isn’t a problem.”

“It is a problem when one enters a room one hasn’t permission to enter,” she said brusquely.

I gave a nod. “I see. Well, Vivienne gave me permission, so you can relax.” This woman was rude, and it was getting under my skin. We were destined to remain at odds it seemed, and I, unfortunately, had neither the time nor the energy to change that.

“But no worries, I’ll go.”

I brushed past her, slipping the photo under the edge of my shirt as I walked past.

She stayed in the doorway a few moments longer, before following me down the stairs.

Vivienne was sitting at the counter in the kitchen, her long dark hair braided down her back, two cups of coffee next to her, and sheet music fanned across the marble. “Oh good, you’re here.” She spoke without turning to look at us.

Brigit moved past me into the kitchen, while I remained frozen directly behind Vivienne’s back.

It was time to face the bitter sting of karma. The woman who I needed to know was about to want nothing more to do with me. Try as I might, I could not force myself to go any further.

“You’ve met Brigit, right? She’s our—what is the PC term now, hon? Housekeeper?” Vivienne glanced up at Brigit, who was now busy wiping coffee rings off the counter.

“I’m always getting the term wrong,” she said, “and she gives me crap for it every time.”

I glanced over at Brigit, who didn’t seem at all interested in which term her employer used to describe her position, because all of her interest was laser-focused upon me.

“Oh, yes. We met,” I said, and there was an edge to it.

Brigit finally pulled her gaze away, long enough to rinse out her dishcloth. Her entire body faced the sink, yet I could see her eyes on me through the reflective chrome of the toaster.

“Aye,” she said. “We met in Lorelei’s bedroom.”

This one, I didn’t like. She smelled like trouble, and it was the one thing I did not need more of. I had enough to last me twelve lifetimes. I’d managed to keep my true identity hidden this long, and while I wasn’t ready for Vivienne to know the truth, it seemed I had no choice.

“You didn’t say where you were from.” Brigit wiped her hands on her apron then leaned them against the counter, still glaring at my reflection.

“Didn’t I?” My words were clipped. “Probably because it’s such a small place most people here have never even heard of it.” I gave her a sharp grin.

She appeared to know more than she let on, but I was curious to know how much more. A test. “I’m from Noctria,” I said evenly, pausing to let the name register. “It’s far north of here. Terribly cold and treacherously lethal, under the right conditions.” I nodded then leaned my elbows on the divider. “Many have been known to die in the night just because they didn’t heed the warnings.”

Brigit’s face blanched. She knows. My heart jumped. At least, she knew something. Perhaps rumors or old stories... perhaps the entire truth. But the look in her eyes said she knew exactly where Noctria was, and where it wasn’t... and why no one would ever find it on any map in this world.

I nibbled my lip, deciding how best to assimilate this new information. Vivienne winked. But then her expression changed, in slow motion, like she was watching an accident as it happened. “Your hair,” She whispered. “You changed... your hair.”

Her face went pale as ash. I’d expected some sort of response, being recognized as the demoness who’d demolished their town. What I was not expecting, however, was Vivienne’s reaction. She was not shocked, or fearful or even angry. In fact, at the moment, she looked as though she might faint.

I stepped toward her, and she lurched out of her chair and backed away from me. Her entire body started to tremble.

My stomach twisted. Please, please don’t die.

“Vivienne? Are you all right?” I moved closer again as her tremors got stronger. My mouth went dry, my gaze darted from her ashen face to Brigit’s. “What’s wrong with her? Is she having some sort of seizure?”

Without pausing to answer, Brigit filled a glass with water and brought it to her. She placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing the glass to her trembling lips with the other.

But Vivienne managed to push it away, all the while keeping her wide, blue eyes locked on me. She backed up until she could go no further, her body pressed against the wall of cupboard doors. A single solitary teardrop rolled down her cheek.

Brigit rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to bring color back into Vivienne’s pallid skin. Her face was lined with worry, but her voice was commanding. “Tell me what’s wrong, Viv. Ye look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Vivienne’s lips parted, and she whispered two words before she buckled and slid to the floor.

“I have.”