I glance over my shoulder. “What’s a changeling?”
“There are those among the fae who take special interest in sick human children. They can’t stand to see them suffer and believe it’s their duty to use the magic of Faerie to heal them.”
I spin to face her. “They just steal them from their parents?”
Her face grows serious as she studies me. “I don’t expect you to understand these traditions, but I do ask that you believe me when I say that any child that’s brought here as a babe has its death already written on the wall. It is not easy, and there is much sacrifice to bring a human child to live in our realm.”
“So Isabel was a changeling,” I say. “What does that mean, exactly? Did she have shifting abilities?”
“No,” she scoffs. “Heavens, no. She was just a human raised in Faerie.”
I take another sip of my coffee and remember the woman in the white dress from the catacombs.
“And she was very beautiful,” I whisper.
“Yes,” Pretha says. “She was a quiet kind of beauty. The kind of person who looked out for those less fortunate than she was, who always put others before herself.”
Shame swamps me. That wasn’t the kind of beauty I was asking about, but I know Finn well enough to know that who she was would’ve mattered more than the rest.
“She was physically beautiful too,” Pretha says. She pulls a pair of silky stockings from the wardrobe and tosses them on the bed. “Enough so that many believe her adoptive father knew exactly what he was doing when he put her in Finn’s path.”
“But Finn wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a human.”
“No.” She huffs and shakes her head. “I take that back. No one cared who he fell in love with. He just wasn’t supposed to spend his life with a human, wasn’t supposed to put one on the throne beside him. But that was his plan. He’d marry her, make her his queen, and after she gave him a few heirs, she’d take the Potion of Life and become fae.”
“Of all the humans who bear children for fae males, why are so few are given the potion?” I say, grabbing the stockings and sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on. It would’ve been easier to do this before putting on the dress, but Pretha must understand that I’m too modest to want to be so exposed for long.
“The potion isn’t used often. It’s quite valuable and rare. The ingredients come from the caves beneath the Goblin Mountains, in the magical gems that are found there.”
Both stockings on, I stand again and smooth my skirts. “Misha told me about the fire gems.”
“Good. Then you understand why the potion isn’t something we simply have on hand.”
“Humans speak of it as if the fae have a limitless supply.”
Pretha shakes her head. “You’re the only human I’ve ever known to have been turned. I’ve heard of others, but in all my years, you’re the only one I’ve met.”
“What about Finn’s betrothed? Would she have taken the potion?”
“Finn was trying to procure the necessary ingredients when they planned their vows, but with the war raging over control of the mountains, he couldn’t get what he needed. He was hoping to have it by the time their children were born.” She sorts through a bag of cosmetics. “His father was so angry when Finn told him about the wedding. Oberon had planned for Finn to marry . . . another. Someone who would strengthen the power in their lineage. But Finn refused. It was very dramatic, but Finn was a lovesick male who refused to put politics before his own heart.”
Jealousy grips me. No, not jealousy. How could I be jealous of a dead woman? A woman who got to see the very worst side of Finn’s kind—of Finn himself.
“Seems like you would’ve been sympathetic to that,” I say.
“Of course.” She nods, pulling a palette and small brush from the bag. “Close your eyes.”
I obey and let her sweep a tiny brush across my eyelids. “Were you jealous that they got to choose when you didn’t?”
She sighs. “By then I was in love with Vexius. I believed the gods gave me two great loves. I don’t regret my marriage or my decision to bond with my husband, and I didn’t then either. Vexius truly brought me joy, and if I’d refused to marry him, I would’ve never known what it was like to have his love. I wouldn’t have Lark.”
“That’s true.” And very mature. I’m sure her emotions aren’t anywhere near so simple.