Casimir turned the page, his eyes wide as he scanned over the last few entries.
March 13, Ethervale
Katerina has given birth. Lucretia has betrayed us.
March 16, Ouverham, Maine
On the day that Arden made her entrance into the world, Lucretia had already abandoned us. I feel as though my heart has been severed—I left Katerina in Ethervale. It was the only way we could protect our infant daughter. With the help of Katerina’s mother, I snuck past the guards and did not stop running until I reached the caves. During that lonely sojourn back to the Isle of Lorn, I had every intention of returning. Of seeing Katerina again.
But I have been lying to myself.
It will not be possible to return.
March 17, Portland, Maine
For the time being, I am staying with a colleague who resides on the mainland. Eleanor is discreet and helps care for little Arden. She asked no questions regarding the infant’s parentage, but I feel suspicion burning in her gaze every time she looks at me. I will tell her the truth, in due course.
41
Casimir stared at the last entry for a long moment before lifting his eyes to mine.
I held my spine straight, my body tense with uncertainty. I didn’t know how he might react to the truth. How can anyone process this kind of earth-shattering revelation?
He shook his head as though in a daze. Finally, he spoke. “I need a drink.”
I released a shaky laugh and nodded. “I think I need one, too.”
That Eleanor Farrow was not my biological mother was perhaps the least shocking thing we’d gleaned from these journals.
Still, it mattered to me.
Eleanor had fallen in love with the dashing Dr. Malcolm Flynch while working as a research assistant in the History Department at Portland College. He would have been in his early thirties and at the peak of his popularity. I imagined Eleanor watching him from a quiet distance, her hazel eyes peering out from behind her cape of sleek brown hair, her fascination with the bombastic professor slowly growing into an obsession.
According to my father’s journals, it was Eleanor who had first noticed his strange absences, the ever-growing pile of essays on his desk. She’d called him to inquire after his wellbeing—and Malcolm, upon finding himself the sole caregiver to a three-month-old baby, seized upon her sympathies. She must have been in love with him for many months to agree to marry him and take on the role of motherhood with so little persuasion, but I suspected my father’s motives in marrying her were far murkier. In Eleanor, he’d secured a caregiver, editor, and housekeeper all in one. Someone who would attend prestigious academic events and change his daughter’s diapers when he wasn’t in the mood.
The casual manner with which he described Eleanor’s willing sacrifice sent a pang of pity shooting through me, and I had to wonder—had he ever truly loved her? I was not her child, and yet she had accepted me and raised me as her own, albeit begrudgingly.
My father’s journal entries also put his slow decline into greater context. His heavy drinking, his poor work performance, his strange absences could all be explained as the fallout of his grief. His heartbreak over losing Katerina was the catalyst that sparked his unraveling. His reliance on liquor strained his tenuous relationship with my adopted mother, and I surmised that she’d guessed at the truth, that my father still clung to his grief—condemned to love a woman he could not have.Katerina. I wondered how much Eleanor knew, but the fact that she’d sent me these journals likely meant she knew the whole truth.
“A half-Daemon,” Casimir murmured, scratching his cheek distractedly. “I never knew… I wonder if there are others?” His tone was full of unrestrained wonder. “I suppose your parentage explains your ability to detect glamours and lies. No other mortal can do that, as far as I know.”
I nodded. The journal explained much, and yet I found myself with more questions than I began with.
“And August was the only other person who knew?” he asked.
“Him and my mother, I suppose.” If I were being honest, I wasn’t sure how much Malcolm had shared with her. I swallowed down the lump in my throat before turning to Casimir. “Can I ask you something?”
He gave a curt nod.
“Do you think we might’ve saved him? If I’d told you the truth about my bloodbargain before the ball?” I couldn’t bring myself to mentionthe favoror the nameAugustaloud.
Casimir’s expression was unreadable. “No,” he sighed. “Devereaux already knew that Sinclair had betrayed him. He never allows disloyalty to go unpunished.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. But knowing the truth didn’t lessen the blow.
Glancing down at my thigh, Casimir smiled sadly. “At least you won’t have to suffer the indignity of having the Darkseer’s name branded on your body for much longer,” he teased. “I’d say you have maybe a few hours at most before it vanishes.”
“Our bargain’s done? It’s over, just like that?”