Pretha slowly lifts her head. She studies me for a long beat, as if she’s trying to decide something very important. “Abriella, all the shadow fae age and heal like mortals. They have for twenty years.”
“But I’m sure I’ve seen fae who heal quickly.”
She nods, calmer now, if more desolate. “Yes, but not Unseelie.”
“Is that why Finn doesn’t use his magic? And why you tell Lark not to use hers? Because it’s dangerous somehow, and they’re now . . . mortal?”
“Yes and no.” She shakes her head. “For fae, magic and life are one. There is not one without the other. As long as the Unseelie are aging and healing like mortals, using magic is just too costly.”
Life is magic. Magic is life. Finn tried to explain this to me when we first started training together. No wonder Pretha panics when she catches Lark using magic. The child is unknowingly shortening her own life.
“Why? How did this happen to them?”
Pretha steps closer, and the silver webbing on her forehead glows as she grips my shoulders. “I wish I could tell you more, Abriella, but I cannot.”
“How am I supposed to help if none of you tell me anything? How many times did I ask about Finn and his magic? Or why he doesn’t heal?”
“We’ve brought you into our home even though you live with and love a man who would like to see the entire Unseelie Court taken down. How could we trust you with the truth? How could we share that vulnerability?”
“But now—” I say. “Now you trust me?”
She loosens her grip on my shoulders and strokes her hands down my arms. “Even as I stand here knowing you may give your heart and your life to the wrong prince, I trust you. And Abriella, you should know this is no small thing.”
The wrong prince? That implies that Finn wants my heart. Does he? It shouldn’t matter. I love Sebastian. But . . . “Tell me more. Explain this. Please.”
“I can’t. If I try . . .” She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, and she wraps her hands around her throat as if she’s choking.
I step forward. “Pretha? Are you okay?”
She drops her hands and does a full body shudder. “Like I said,” she says, her voice hoarse, “I cannot.”
“Are you somehow spelled to not be able to speak of it?” I ask.
She doesn’t nod, but I see it in the way she holds my gaze. She physically cannot say more.
“Okay.” I don’t want her to hurt herself again. “I understand. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Find the Grimoricon and return it to the Unseelie Court.”
The Unseelie Court. Mordeus. “Mordeus has magic,” I say. “I’ve seen him use it again and again. Does this disease not affect him?” Because surely he wouldn’t shorten his own life by using his magic on things so trivial as making a decanter of wine appear in his hand.
“Mordeus has proven he’ll go to any length to maintain his power—and even greater lengths to get more. Magic is a big part of that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.” She sighs and turns toward the door. “I used to think it was better that way, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Pretha,” I say as she wraps a hand around the knob. “After I get the final relics for Mordeus, I have a lot I need to figure out, but whatever I decide, I hope you . . . I hope everyone understands that this isn’t easy for me. I’ve had feelings for Sebastian for two years, but Finn . . .” I swallow. My gaze slips to the kitchen window. Inside, Finn is cleaning Lark’s knee and making her laugh. I think of the way he refused me last night when I was drugged out of my mind and begging. Of his cocky grin this morning. “Finn is my friend. I don’t want to lose either of them.”
When she turns back to me, her smile is sad. “In the end, you will have to choose.”
I think of Sebastian and how badly it hurt me to see him with that other girl. I think of how tempting it is to excuse it, just so I don’t have to sacrifice the little time I have left with him before he finds out that, of the two of us, my betrayals might run the deepest.
Pretha doesn’t realize she’s wrong. There will be no choice for me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I SNAP A THREAD ON MY BRACELET, and before I can prepare a lock of hair for Bakken, he’s sitting in my bedroom in the Golden Palace, legs crossed, eyes closed, and palms turned up on his knees. I think I caught him meditating.