Why am I not screaming? I’m trying to, but my vocal cords aren’t responding. I feel myself shaking all over, and bile rises up my throat.
"Tanis," the thing holding me repeats, with a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you? Hostages are useful alive. You're supposed to make it last, not just get rid of them immediately. That's why you never take the actual mark, you know."
She sounds both long suffering and instructional, like a patient, exasperated teacher.
While the man I've loved for eight years lies bleeding on the sofa.
"Now," she says, eerie gold eyes returning to me, "I'm sure there are other people we could torture to get what we need from you. You humans always have so many weaknesses. Your name."
I make myself swallow. "Ra—Rachel. Rachel Thorn."
"Thorn?"
She tilts her head, then brings her dainty little nose to the crook of my neck.
"Yes, I think I can smell it. It makes sense, really."
"What?" Tanis asks.
He's pulled out a handkerchief, and started cleaning his sword-mace of the evidence.
"She's touched. There's a fae ancestor in her line, likely many generations back. The blood can come back in some of the descendants. I bet that's why the queenspawn ended up in her family."
In any other circumstances, I'd think her completely insane. None of what she's saying makes sense. Touched? Queenspawn? But she's lilac, and pointy eared, and flying, and so very strong. She's not insane. The world is, all of a sudden.
I've been attacked by fae.
Fairies.
And at the back of my mind, I think,of course. Naturally. Duh.
Because I see it now. The delicate point of Rina's ear in a certain light. The shifting color of her eyes. And the times I swore I saw her hair was blue. Then I blinked and it was just like mine, reddish-blonde.
I dismissed it, because it was my sister and I honestly didn't care what she was. There are so many creatures in the world, all living at peace. If anything, most of the drama is created by humans.
I should have said something. I should have asked. I should have known.