With the sunrise the next morning, I watched through the window over my bed as my father’s shadowy figure trotted along the dirt road leading away from the farm, growing smaller and smaller before disappearing completely. Tears stained my rosy cheeks as I pulled the covers up to my chin, focusing now on the beautiful warm bursts of light painting the sky.
I hadn’t slept the night before. When I’d returned home from my whirlwind adventure, I’d been too preoccupied to bother with it, and even now I couldn’t get my brain to quiet enough to appease the exhaustion I felt in every corner of my body.
How could my father not tell me? Why would he keep this a secret?
In one night, my entire life had been turned upside down. Everything I knew was a lie. I was a Fae. I had magic. Magic that I couldn’t even use because it had supposedly disappeared. It made me wonder what else my father had hidden from me or lied about. Had my mother been Fae? Had that been the real reason the Crown had her killed?
I’d gone over every moment of my life, trying to piece together any semblance of recollection that would back up Floryne’s claims of my true heritage. Though nothing starkly stood out as a sign that I wasn’t human, there had been clues throughout the years that something wasn’t quite what it should be.
When I fifteen, my father had come home with Gingersnap. Until that point, I’d never really ridden horses, though we had many when I was growing up. I’d always been to afraid of the large creatures, but something had sparked my interest with the blonde mare that was now my best friend. On one of our first rides together, I’d grown overconfident in my abilities and it had ended in disaster. I still remember being bucked off her and slamming into the ground with a thud. I thought I’d broken every bone in my body as I lie there on the ground withering in pain, but after a few minutes, I was fine. I got up like nothing had happened. I never questioned it too closely, but now I wondered if that had been my Fae blood rapidly healing my broken body.
When I was a little girl, I had always been afraid of the dark. My father used to sit with me until I fell asleep, but as I got older, he became less accommodating, saying I needed to face my own fears. The first night I’d been alone in the dark was the scariest moment of my life. I felt such an intense fear of what could be waiting for me in the shadows, that I all I could think of was what the heroes in my childhood stories would do. That very first night I was alone, I imagined conjuring light out of the palm of my hands to ward of the monsters lurking in the dark. To my surprise, it had worked!
It had never occurred to me that whatever had happened had been anything other than my active imagination. I hadn’t done it since I grew out of the ridiculous fear at eight years old. I hadn’t even thought about it in the many year since. I now wondered if that had been the first time I’d used magic without ever realizing it.
Tears threatened to spill out of the corner of my eyes again, and I desperately brushed them away with a rough hand. I’d had enough wallowing. It was time to do something about it. The only way for me to know for sure if I truly was Fae, was to figure out what happened to magic and save it.
I crawled out of the warm covers and dragged my feet across the old wooden floor until I was standing in front of my dresser. I still wore the same dress from yesterday. It was dusty, and the edge was torn from the terrifying chase through the forest. I honestly looked like I did after any busy day on the farm; I didn’t look out of the ordinary at all despite the shenanigans I’d been up to. Inside the dresser drawers, my clothes were folded nicely, but I didn’t have the energy to change.
Instead, the reflection in the old, milky mirror hanging above the dresser caught my eye. I stared at my image for several long moments, and it stared back. I was still shocked about what Floryne had told me. How could I be Fae? I looked so plain, when Fae were supposed to be gorgeous. I wasn’t slender, or agile. I didn’t have pointed ears, or sharp canine teeth. Not even wings.
No, I just looked like a boring human. My pale blonde hair fell in tangled ringlets around my waist, unkempt and unbrushed from the night before. My eyes were a lifeless shade of grey, devoid of any actual color. My cheeks were littered with freckles, and small blemishes, and my teeth were slightly crooked. I was short, small, and pale-skinned. My appearance was nothing but underwhelming—the exact opposite of what it should have been if I was Fae.
I thought of all the times father had told me I looked just like my mother. Had she looked as human as I did? Or did she look like a Fae? She must have done something to disguise herself, but what? Whatever it had been, I wondered if she’d done the same to me.
In my reflection, my eyes focused on the golden locket around my neck. It was slightly bigger than my fingernail, and had a rose etched into one side. On the other side were small, engraved words I couldn’t quite make out. I didn’t know what inside the locket, as I’d never been able to open the rusted metal clasp. Eventually, I’d stopped prying, afraid I’d break it. It had been an heirloom from my mother, the last present she had ever given me before her death.
I didn’t remember anything about my mother, I’d only been two when she died, but I did remember the one and only story my father had told me about her.
“You were the light of your mother’s eyes. There was nothing in this world that made her happier than you, and because of it, she spoiled you rotten from the moment you were born. She’d buy you every trinket she could every time we went to the market, even if we didn’t have the money for it. ‘Anything for my sweet Arry’ she used to say.
She knew this locket was for you the moment she laid eyes on it at the market in Pandorr. We rarely made the trip all the way to the big city, but it had been a particularly gruesome winter and we were still desperately looking for supplies to recover. Being the heart of the King’s court, Pandorr was rumored to have an abundance of supplies we couldn’t get at the markets in Rexithian or Loros, so we made the trip.
They were right. The market was huge and crowded. I don’t think I’d ever seen it so busy, though we’d only been a handful of times. There were so many stalls selling this and that; food, resources, anything you could dream of. Everywhere you turned someone was trying to sell us something.
We didn’t have much in terms of money, so we were diligent while we looked around. I reminded your mother that we had to spend our money wisely, and we couldn’t blow it on useless trinkets this time. She nodded her head, but it didn’t take long for an older woman selling her wares to pop out of nowhere, peddling her precious jewelry to your mother’s wondering eye.
Your mother spent nearly all of our money on that locket, insisting that she would find a way to make up for the other supplies we needed. The joy that sparkled in her eyes when she put the locket around your neck made me forget all of our troubles. I couldn’t stay mad at her, even for spending all of our money.
Your mother was a head-strong, determined woman. When she told me not to worry about our lack of money, I trusted her. She told me she’d be right back; she knew of a place where she could get the supplies we needed still. I believed her, and I watched her disappear into the crowd, not knowing it would be the last time I ever talked to her.
After some time, I began to grow worried that she hadn’t returned. I made my way through the packed market, looking for any signs of her. She would be hard to miss with her white-blond hair that had been tied up with a red ribbon that morning—something she rarely did.
By the time I reached the center of the market, I still hadn’t found her. Panic had set in by this time, and I was growing desperate. You had begun to cry, not understanding why she wasn’t there to hold you. I was worried she’d gotten lost or hurt. Every bad scenario I could think of played out in my head.
That’s when I saw her.
It was worse than everything I’d thought of. The city guards had her in their custody, and they had ushered her onto the platform in the center of the square. I knew instantly what was going to happen—this was the place they executed people with magic. Not her! I remember thinking. She’s innocent!
I pushed my way through the crowd, ready to speak out on her behalf, but when she noticed me, she shook her head. I was bewildered, but then she looked at you, and I knew exactly what she was saying with just that one gaze. ‘Protect our girl. They’ll come for her next’. I didn’t know what to do. I knew she was right, if the King new you existed, he’d kill you too, just because you were a girl. The daughter of a witch—he would have assumed you were one too.
Before I knew it, the King made his away across the platform. He’d only been King for a couple of years at this point, and he was adamant on being the one to perform the executions, you see. He had his famous dark-stone sword clasped tightly in his hand, and he called out over the crowd. ‘Let it be known that this woman has been caught doing witchcraft. She will be punished for her sins! There is no place for witches in Righhan Tyebeith!’ he yelled over the people gathered. I could barely hear over the cheers of the people around me.
I am ashamed to say that I stood there, clutching you to my chest, as the King executed your mother right there and then. I should have left, I shouldn’t have kept you there, but I couldn’t leave her. I wished I could have saved her, but it would have only put you in danger, and I couldn’t lose you both. Perhaps that makes me selfish.
I fled as soon as it was done, leaving with nothing but you and the locket your mother had purchased. We had very little for so long that it was very tempting to pawn that pure gold locket for some money to buy supplies. I’d told myself if only we’d just bought the supplies we needed in the first place that day at the market, maybe your mother would still be here.
But I saw the joy in your face when you saw it, when you held it in your tiny little hands, and I couldn’t take that away from you. That was the last thing your mother would ever give you, the last thing you would have of her. So I didn’t sell it, and we made do. In the end, we may not have had much, be we had each other, and that was all that mattered.
I wish she was still here, but I see her in you each and every day. She would have been proud to be your mother.
Now, as I watched myself in the mirror with my fingers clasped around the same locket, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again at the memory. Had the whole thing been a lie, or just certain details? Had she even given me this locket, or had my father made that up so I wouldn’t question it?
What was true? Was any of it?
I angrily brushed the tears off my cheeks, turning away from the mirror. It was useless mulling over questions like this. Until I confronted my father, they were nothing but speculations. I was mad, I was hurt, but it did me no good to stew on it all day.
This was not how I envisioned spending my birthday.
I sulked through the dark house and found myself in the kitchen, boiling a pot of water over the wood-burning stove. The room was dark and cold. It gave off a completely different feel than it had last night when father was seated in the chair, and I on the couch across from him.
Had the room changed, or just my perspective?
I sighed, looking around the room. The blanket I’d been using last night still sat disarranged on the couch, tossed aside as I left in a hurry. My book lay open on top of it, the warn pages face down, and the old spine cracked open. I shuffled over and closed the book, setting it on the table beside the couch, and folded the blanket.
On the other side of the room, the only window was shut, the heavy curtains drawn over it blocking out the light. I crossed the room and flicked them open, letting the early morning sunlight filter in the room. That was better.
Feeling slightly more lifted now that sunlight was filtering into the otherwise gloomy room, I plopped on the floor in front of the fire and watched the flames dance inside the enclosed metal box. So much had changed in such a short amount of time. I wished I could go back to yesterday when everything was easy. Simple.
As I waited for the water come to a boil, my mind shifted focus to the quest I had advertently accepted. I had no idea how I was going save magic, but I resolved myself to it regardless. If anything, having something to focus on would distract me from all the pain that now rested in my heart.
When the water started boiling, I yanked it off and brought it to the kitchen, where I poured it into a cup for morning tea. I grabbed a piece of leftover bread from last night’s dinner to accompany my breakfast before sitting at the small kitchen table in the center of the room.
Maybe it was the warmth form the hot liquid easing my strained muscles, or the nourishment from the food in my belly, but I almost fell asleep with my head resting in my hand with my elbow pushed into the table for support. There would be time for sleep later, I mused as I shook myself awake.
Once I cleared the table of my dishes and placed them in the sink, I grabbed a notepad and pen from the drawer by the back door and sat back down at the table, ready to jot down any ideas about saving magic that I could muster up.
I stayed like that for a long time, drumming my fingers on the wood finish, anticipation and frustration warring inside me. I had gotten nowhere, had absolutely no idea where to start. What had I gotten myself into?
This sure would be a lot more helpful if I knew a damn thing about magic! I thought, banging my head down on the tabletop.
I pushed the pen and paper aside angrily. I wasn’t going to give up this easily, but maybe I did need some sleep after all. Clearly I wasn’t going to get anywhere with my mind as tired as it was.
I meandered back down the hallway toward my room, guided only by the light from windows in the kitchen and living room. Before I reached my room, I paused outside of the room my father had always forbidden me from going inside. His office.
Despite being rebellious and sneaking around behind his back to explore the woods outside our farm, I’d never broken his rule about entering this private space of his. I don’t know why, I’d just never bothered. But something inside me now tugged toward this mysterious room. What did he keep in here? Would I find any answers?
I hesitated at the door, biting my lip. Once I did this, there was no going back. What if I couldn’t find what I was looking for? Or worse, what if I did find it, but I didn’t like what I’d found?
I couldn’t think like that—this could be my only chance. Father would be gone for several more hours at least, and who knew when he’d be gone again. I needed answers, and I needed them now. Magic wouldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait.
I let out a breath and twisted the knob. It was locked.
Of course it would be locked! You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you? I chastised myself as I crossed my arms over my chest, thinking. I decided to look in the once place I thought he’d keep the key if it wasn’t on him: his bedroom.
I turned and walked a little further down the hall to his room, before slipping inside quietly. I knew I was alone, but it felt better to be careful with all this sneaking around I was doing.
Once my eyes adjusted to the dark room, I looked around for somewhere obvious he would store the key. His room was rather simple. His bed was in the center of the room, pushed up against the wall opposite of me. There was just enough room on each side of it for a person to walk around. A window was directly above the bed, its curtains drawn shut, and a dark oak end-table was on each side. To my left was a dresser in matching oak that took up three quarters of the wall.
I smiled when I saw the wooden bowl of trinkets and keys on the dresser. I leaned over, rummaging through it. There were buttons, thimbles, screws—all random junk, really, but more importantly, there was three keys in the bowl.
I grabbed all three, before hurrying back to the office door. Though humans didn’t typically worship any of the Gods (that had been a tradition magic-wielders followed), I sent out a quick prayer, not sure if any were listening. If I was Fae, I should probably get used to that practice, shouldn’t I? No better time than now to start, I thought.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
My hands were shaking with nerves, and I tried to steady them before I tried the first key. I held it up to the handle but became discouraged when it didn’t fit. I fumbled with it in my hands, a frown growing on my face. Don’t panic, I told myself. It was just the first key, this could still work.
I tried the second. This time, the key slid into the hole, but I still held my breath as I began to turn it. I let out an irritated grunt when it didn’t work. I didn’t know if it was my desperation to find the information I was seeking, or the stress of sneaking behind my father’s back, but I looked at the third key in my fingers with anticipation. This had to be it, right?
If this didn’t work, I had no back-up plans, no other way to move forward on my quest. I’d still confront my father, yes, but I would feel a hell of a lot better if I had some other, any other, background information to support the claims I would be flouting against him. It’s not like I could tell him how I really knew. Besides, I still wasn’t certain I could trust the nymph I’d met in the woods the night before.
With a shaky breath, I put the third key in the lock. I hesitated before twisting my hand and was almost surprised when it turned. The door popped open into the unfamiliar room. It worked!
I pocketed all three keys, careful to put the one that worked in my right pocket, and the ones that didn’t in my left. I’d have to lock it again when I was done, and if I was in a hurry, I wouldn’t have time to fumble with all the keys again.
I carefully pushed inside the room, taking in its foreign appearance. It was slightly larger than his bedroom, but smaller than mine in size. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf filled with books of all sizes and colors. In the center of the room sat an oak desk, and an aged wooden chair.
I stared in awe. This room was magnificent. I could spend hours, days even, exploring all the books he’d hidden away for years. I ran my hand across the smooth desktop, my eyes catching on the papers scattered across it. Some were new, crisp and clean, while others had clearly sat there for who knew how long, yellowing with age.
On the corner of the desk was a small, dark green lamp. I reached out my hand, feeling for the little metal string that when pulled, would turn it on. With a little click, light engulfed the entire room and I set out to work.
I started by rummaging through the papers on his desk, looking to see if there was anything that might be of importance. Most of them were about things I didn’t understand, or the farm and the financials involved with running it.
Unsatisfied, I turned next to the bookshelves, running my fingers gingerly down the spines, reading the titles with squinting eyes. Some were small in print, or in font I couldn’t quite make-out. Some even were so worn with age, the titles had all but faded from the book entirely.
I wondered where my father had gotten on all these books, and why he kept them hidden. Some of them were about history, others about topics that must have interested him at some point in his youth. I was so amazed by all the volumes displayed that I almost didn’t question it.
Then, I remembered all the teasing my father had done of my reading growing up. He’d always made it seem like he had no interest, but this room said otherwise. My mother had always been the one to read, he’d always told me. It dawned on me that maybe this wasn’t my father’s collection of books after all.
Maybe it was my mother’s. Maybe I’d find some clue, some information, about who she’d really been.
I pushed the excitement down. I was on a mission, and there was no point getting my hopes up anyway. If I found some clues about my mother, that would just be a bonus. A birthday present to myself. But I wouldn’t let myself be disappointed if I didn’t.
My fingers stopped on a book titled “Magical History of Righhan Tyebeith”. I didn’t know if it would have the information I needed, but it wouldn’t hurt to look. I pulled the book out of its pocket on the shelf, watching as the book to the right fell over with a soft thud into the book next to it, almost as if they were mourning the loss of the missing book now in my hands. I wondered how long it had been since any of these books had been read.
I didn’t stop there. I wanted an entire arsenal of books to thumb through. I didn’t know what I was even looking for, but I hoped I’d know when I saw it. Before I knew it, my arms were piled with books, some larger than I’d ever seen before. If I couldn’t find the information I needed in one of them, then maybe I wouldn’t find what I was looking for in here at all.
I sat down in the rickety chair in front of the desk and cracked open one of the books, letting my eyes wonder over the various pages that I flicked through gingerly. I rested my head in the palm of my hand, fascinated by what I was reading.
Righhan Tyebeith, named after human war heroes Righhan Braun and Tyeler Beith, was settled in the year 2106 A.C., three years after the successful rebellion against the oppressive reign of High King Alaric Edgewood III. Contrary to popular belief, the rebellion was not driven by a desire to rid the world of magic, but rather by a fervent wish to escape the domination of the Old Fae who had held sway over the land. Both Braun and Beith sought autonomy for their people, not the eradication of the very magic that had been interwoven into the fabric of their world, despite being human. Under the rule of their sons, Forrester Braun of South Righhan Tyebeith and Ashtynn Beith of North Righhan Tyebeith, magic was not only present but embraced as a vital and integral part of life in the new realm.
I scrunched my eyebrows. It was common knowledge that Righhan Tyebeith had been settled after the Great War of Trinyaddae. Before the war, we’d all occupied one continent named Trinyaddae, and were ruled by one king, known as the High King. The High King had been always been from the same Old Fae bloodline since the dawn of A.C., following the imprisonment of Cyathea and the abandonment from the Gods’. After the war, the population had been divided—split into three continents and seven Kingdoms, each ruled by a different species. It was known as The Birth of the Seven Kingdoms era.
Righhan Tyebeith had been the land the humans had settled. I had always assumed magic was forbidden in Righhan Tyebeith, like it was now. I didn’t know that there was a time we welcomed, celebrated it even. I wonder when that changed. I flipped through more pages detailing the years after the war, looking for more answers.
For nearly four millennia, Righhan Tyebeith remained a land of relative peace, where the coexistence of humans and magical beings was accepted. However, this balance was shattered in 6069 A.C., with the unexpected death of King Righhan Braun VI. Less than a year after ascending to the throne following the death of his father, King Righhan fell victim to a sudden and mysterious illness, leaving his younger brother, Edwinn Braun, to inherit the southern throne. It was under King Edwinn's rule that the kingdom would undergo a profound and tumultuous shift.
King Edwinn, in stark contrast to his forebears, harbored a deep disdain for magic, and viewed it as a foreign influence that undermined the purity of human power. He believed that the continent of Righhan Tyebeith should be ruled by humans alone, free from the influence of magical creatures and their arcane abilities. To this end, he initiated a brutal campaign to rid the southern part of the realm of anyone suspected of magical abilities. Initially, these individuals were imprisoned in the royal dungeons, but as time passed, Edwinn’s resolve grew colder, and he began issuing executions for any who were believed to wield magic.
The methods for identifying those with magical powers were vague at best, and accusations were often based on little more than rumor and hearsay. As a result, many innocent lives were lost under the pretext of magical crimes. For over thirty years, this persecution persisted unchecked, before it was codified into law in 6099 A.C. Executions became more frequent, and with the rise of public executions, the Crown used them as a tool to instill fear and maintain control over the populace. By the time of King Harrold Braun's ascension to the throne, the hatred for magical beings had become entrenched in the very foundation of Southern Righhan Tyebeith.
King Harrold, like his forefathers, believed in the sanctity of a "pure" human kingdom, and he continued the brutal policies of his predecessors. The Crown even incentivized the betrayal of magical beings by offering substantial rewards to those who turned in individuals suspected of using magic. The kingdom had become a treacherous place for any who bore the gift—or the curse—of magic, and by 6100 A.C., Righhan Tyebeith was a land where suspicion and fear ruled the day.
A pit grew in my stomach. This was not what I’d been taught. This was not the history I knew from the books my father had always brought home from the markets. I flipped over the cover of the book, studying it. I wondered if the King had outlawed books like this. Had he hidden this knowledge, the true history of our realm, so that nobody would stand against him? Afterall, it was easier to believe the crowns crimes were fair and just when you that was just how humans had always behaved toward magical beings.
Did the King have something to do with magic disappearing now? Had he found out a way to truly obtain his vision for the human realm? I bit my lip—this was more than I had signed up for, but I was more determined than ever to find out what happened to magic.
I turned my attention back to the book, desperate to learn more. I was hungry for the knowledge that had been kept away from me, kept away from all the inhabitants of South Righhan Tyebeith under the crushing reign of the Southern Kingdom.
Despite the horrors unfolding in the South, the North remained a refuge for those persecuted by the Southern Crown. While relations between the North and South remained fragile, the Northern Kingdom, led by King Philip Darchester, did not adopt the same anti-magic policies. Fearing a potential civil war, the North quietly became a sanctuary for magical beings, offering them protection from the violence and oppression that characterized life in the South.
In 6099 A.C., King Philip Darchester, a ruler of great conviction, took it upon himself to lead a small, secretive group of rebels into the South in an effort to rescue those who had been condemned for their magical abilities. Though these early efforts were limited in scope and resources, rumors persisted of a growing resistance movement—a network of individuals who would later become known as The Guardians. Though they once operated under the leadership of King Philip and his descendants, The Guardians would secede and continue to operate in secrecy, providing aid to magical beings in the South and advocating for their rights.. While the Crown’s control over the Southern Kingdom remained largely unchallenged, The Guardians endured, their organization growing in both numbers and influence, as they continued to defy the harsh laws of King Harrold and his successors.
To this day, the North remains a sanctuary for those who possess magical abilities, and The Guardians are believed to continue their work—though they now operate more discretely than ever, seeking peace between the divided realms while remaining ever vigilant in their defense of magical beings. The legacy of King Philip Darchester, a king who dared to stand against the tyranny of the South, remains a quiet yet powerful force, shaping the future of Righhan Tyebeith and its inhabitants.
This was a clue! I let my finger caress the page as I read the passage over and over again. There was a rebel group in the North that fought against the Southern Crown’s oppression. Maybe they can help me, I thought with new excitement. Briefly I wondered how I would even find them, but the thought didn’t stick around long.
Distantly, I heard the squeaking of wood groan, and my heart rate sped up. I stood up sharply, running to the dark window in the corner of the room. I held my breath as I saw my father riding through the fields on Alastair, his cloak whipping behind him as he slowed to approach the barn and the fenced yard around it.
He’s home already! I thought with panic, turning back toward the desk. I glanced once more at the page, before ripping it out of the book and stuffing it in the pocket of my dress. This was the next step in my mission, I had to find The Guardians, and I needed their help. If anyone knew what happened to the magic in the realm, it would surely be them.
I’d spent hours in here and I hadn’t even realized it. A twinge of sadness washed over me, knowing I hadn’t had time to find more. I hadn’t even found anything about my mother. I patted my pocket to make sure the page was secure; I was =grateful I’d found at least one clue. It would have to be enough.
With that, I shoved the remaining books on the desk back into the shelves, anxious to return the room to how I’d found it that morning. I was afraid to find out how he’d react if he ever found out I’d been in here. With quick fingers, I clicked the lamp until it was off, before twirling around and exiting the room, locking it with the key in my pocket.
I was just quick enough to return the keys to his room, shut the door, and plop on the couch with my book open in my hands just as father walked through the back door. His arms were loaded with the supplies he’d bought at the market, and he let out a soft groan with the effort.
I looked up from my book, pretending I’d been there for hours, as he dropped the supplies on the floor in the kitchen and sat down with a huff.
“How was the market?” I asked, trying to keep my voice normal. In truth, my heart was beating erratically as I thought about all that had happened since I’d last spoken to him.
“Just like any other day” he grumbled, untying his boots.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” I asked, biting my lip. I still wanted to question him about my true heritage, but I needed to lead into it. I couldn’t just bombard him, I had to try to coax it out of him.
“And then some” he smiled, before grabbing a box wrapped in paper and waltzing into the living room. He stopped to kiss the side of my head, before handing me the small box in his hand. “Happy Birthday, Arry”.
I took the box in my fingers, letting a smile play out on my face. It was genuine, despite the nerves growing in my stomach.
“Thank you, father” I said, hesitating to open it. I decided to lay the present down on the couch, before looking up to him. “I actually had something in mind that I’d like for my birthday” I started, a pit growing in my stomach.
How was I going to word this so I didn’t make him angry? How was I going to talk about this, without letting him know how I truly knew? I nearly chickened out, but instead, focused on my determination; focused on the mixture of anger and sadness I’d felt since last night.
“Oh, and what is that?” He asked with a wry smile of his own. He sat in his usual chair, the weak afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window spilling over him.
“I want to know the truth about mom” I said evenly. There was no point beating around the bush, I just needed to get this over with.
“I have told you the truth about your mother, Arry. She was killed by King” he replied, confusion weathering his features.
“Why was she killed?” I asked again. I knew how he’d respond already, but I needed to hear him say it. I needed to hear him lie again, before I confronted him. What if he told the truth now? What if he’d just been keeping it from me until he thought I was old enough to understand? I had to reserve my anger until I truly knew he deserved it.
“The Crown thought she was a witch. There was nothing I could have done to prove them wrong” his voice cracked and he looked away from me. “Surely, this isn’t what you want to talk about on your birthday” his voice grew more agitated.
I didn’t respond right away, instead letting his words marinate. He’d lied. Deep down I knew he would, but it still hurt to know he’d been lying to me my whole life, and that he was still lying to me, even now. Finally, I broke the silence.
“She was a Fae, wasn’t she?”
Now it was his turn to hold his tongue. His head whipped back to me faster than I’d expected, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. He must be wondering how I knew.
“She was a Fae, and I’m a Fae. That’s why you keep me locked up here” I said, my voice barely a whisper as tears threatened to spill down my face.
“What makes you think that?” He finally said, not denying it, but also not confirming it, either. I could feel my blood heat up at his non-answer.
“I don’t think it, father. I know that’s the truth” I tried desperately to keep my voice from shaking as I said the words out loud.
“You are not Fae, Arry. Your mother wasn’t, either. I don’t know where you came up with this silly nonsense” He started to say.
I stood up abruptly, pacing the small room. My whole body was on the verge of trembling. I couldn’t believe he still wouldn’t tell me the truth. I was giving him the choice; the chance to do the right thing, and he was still betraying me.
“You’re lying to me! Why?” The tears I’d tried to keep at bay finally broke the surface, bubbling in the corner of my eyes.
Now, he was mad. His face turned red and he also stood, stomping across the room to the window, keeping his gaze everywhere but on me. For one small moment, I started second guessing myself. Maybe he wasn’t lying after all. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Floryne had been confused.
Something inside told me that wasn’t the case. There was no other explanations to what had happened last night. If we wasn’t willing to tell me the truth, I’d find out some other way.
“Where did this come from, hmm Arry? You’re spoiling your birthday with this gibberish!” He continued to deny the reality of the situation.
Frustration grew inside me. I bit my tongue, deciding very carefully what to say next. The look of annoyance plastered on his face sent me boiling over though, and I couldn’t stop myself before yelling, “Screw my birthday! Stop lying to me!”
“Don’t talk to me like that! I am your father. I don’t know what’s gotten into you but show me some damn respect!” He howled, and I shrank back.
“Magic disappeared. Did you know that? Last night, just poof—gone!” I started with a small voice. The look of recollection on his face encouraged me to continue. My voice began to rise, and now hot tears fell down my cheek. “You want to know how I know you’ve been lying to me? Because I felt it. I felt something fundamentally change in me—something that can only be explained by magic” I continued, falling into a heap on the floor, one step away from full on sobbing.
He studied me for a long moment now, his face still heated with anger. I didn’t need to hear his next words to know what they were going to be. “You’re imaging things. You probably fell asleep reading one of those damn fantasy books of yours and now you think you’re something you’re not!” he protested.
“I am not making this up!” I yelled. “If you won’t tell me, I will find someone who will” I threatened, my voice was barely a whisper as I looked up at him through my tear-soaked eyes.
“You will do no such thing! You are not leaving this farm, Arryanntheia” his tone was sharp, and I flinched as he walked across the room toward me.
“Watch me” I defied, pushing myself up before he reached me and running toward the door. Before I got there, his hand clasped around my arm and pulled me into his large chest.
“I don’t want to lock you away, but I will” his voice was loud, but I barely heard him as I desperately tried to free myself from his strong grip.
“Let me go! You can’t keep me locked up here forever!” I cried frantically.
“If you don’t stop, you’ll leave me no choice” he was so close, I could feel his breath on my ear as he talked. I tried to push away from him, but my arms were quickly weakening.
How had it gotten to this point so fast? Why was he continuing to lie to me, when I clearly knew the truth?
“I will never stop. You’ve kept me locked away for too long, ignorant to the world around me. Not anymore—I will find a way to leave and find the answers you clearly don’t want me to have” I all but spat at him.
In response, he dragged me behind him, his large footsteps echoing down the hallway. His grip grew tighter around my arm. There was no hope of escaping, and the tears flowed hotter down my cheeks. Ange flushed my face as I kicked and clawed, but it was no use.
He reached my bedroom door and threw me inside, slamming the door behind me. Before I could recover from the fall, I heard the lock click on the outside of the door. I quickly stood and rattled the knob, but it was no use. He’d locked me in.
“You leave me no choice, Arry” his voice was sad, and then his steps retreated down the hallway. My birthday, the present, the page from the book—it was all forgotten as I fell to the ground in tears.
How could he do this?
After several moments of my pathetic display, I let anger fuel me again. He thought he could just keep me here, shield me away from the truth, but he was wrong. I wouldn’t stop until I got far away from here, from him.
My hand brushed against the cold metal of my locket, and with an angry hiss, I clasped my hand completely around it, before yanking it off and throwing it across the floor. It was a lie. It was all a lie. I’d find a way out of this room, out of this house. I would find the truth, even it if it killed me doing so.