Twelve Years Ago

We were traveling home from Ascendria. My mother, myself, and Ferne. My baby sister was harnessed into her car seat, and her chubby, three-year-old hands, clasped a rag-doll to her chest as she slept.

I ran my palms up and down my thighs, staring out the window of the limousine at the black winter night.

What am I going to do?

My thoughts were as dark as the countryside blurring past. Worry and guilt and confusion at what I'd learned, what I should do, swirled around in my head. Those all-consuming thoughts were so loud, I hadn't heard my mother ask the first couple of times until my body rocked when she shook my shoulder with a slender hand. "What is it, Gray?"

My mother had golden hair like wheat and grassy-green eyes. A ray of sunshine in the dark looks of the Crowthers. Years ago, when I'd asked where I'd gotten my black eyes, she'd said, a little wistfully—Not from me. She'd wished at least one of us would look like her—a little blond child with bright green eyes. But my black eyes came from the Crowther ancestors, Wyrm Tamers, she'd said. Every so often, black would appear amongst the violet.

I plucked at a stray fiber along the outside seam of my jeans. "I was just..."—shit, am I really going to do this?—"...thinking about Nelle."

My mother smiled, a knowing smile, obviously believing this was about something quite different. "Oh, I like Nelle, a lot," she said, doing a little shimmy with her shoulders. "She's so fiery and full of mischief."

I snorted. "She's fucking weird."

My mother snapped out with a hand to clip my ear. I yowled, frowning back at her as she glared and waved a pointed finger in front of my face. "Graysen Crowther, you know I don't like that language."

"Well, she is." I crossed my arms across my chest, sinking sullenly against the leather seat. I grumbled, "You should hear her—she cusses worse than Ennio Battagli, and she's only seven."

My mother huffed a delighted laugh. "She's a magpie, Nelle, alright. Marissa and Byron have their hands full with that one."

Nelle was so different from her sisters. Evelene and Annalise were Wychthorn princesses, prim and proper with their pretty dresses and glossy hair and perfect manners. Nelle was a ball of furious energy in too-big dresses and bare feet, running everywhere, climbing trees, her hair long and loose and wild, with intense gray eyes. Just staring at anyone she felt like for way too long—including me.

"I've seen how you look at her," my mother said.

"Ugh, gods, mom!" I was thirteen and she was seven. Far too young. And a girl. A GIRL!

Okay, I was starting to notice girls in that way, like my older brother Kenton had for some time. And my stomach did some kind of weird fluttery backflip thing whenever I encountered Alison Troelsen at a House Gathering. She was a little older than me, and so fucking pretty with her sweet smiles.

"That's not what I meant," my mother replied, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

I scowled back, wondering just what the hells she did mean.

My mother broke out into a wide toothy smile, her head ducked low, to whisper, "Nelle doesn't know it, but you're always watching out to make sure she's kept safe." She straightened and fixed me with a sharp look. "I saw you taking that bully Battagli boy aside before he hit her in the back of the head, and threaten him to keep away from her."

My eyes went a bit wide. "You saw that?" Shit, I thought I'd been stealthy. It had also been one of those rare times Nelle and I had spoken at a gathering of families.

"A mother sees everything, don't you know?"

"Yeah, well that guy's an ass—"

I yowled again as her hand swiped my ear again. Shit, shit, shit—fuuuck that hurt!

"Gray," my mother warned with one of her don't-you-dare-cross-me glares. "One more time and I'll hand Aunt Valarie the soap to wash your mouth out."

"Okay, mom," I drawled while rubbing my throbbing ear. But she'd make good on her promise. There was no way I wanted Aunt Valarie dishing out my punishment. She wouldn't hold back like my mother would. She'd really soap my mouth up and make it sting.

"She stares at me all the fu—all the time," I quickly corrected, tensing, wondering if I was going to get another clip around the ears. "She freaks me out."

"Still." My mother's mouth twitched and amusement glittered in her eyes." That doesn't stop you from staring at her too when she's not looking. It doesn't stop you from keeping an eye out for her, either."

Godsdammit, my mom really did have eyes in the back of her head.

"She doesn't exactly help herself," I grouched. "Someone needs to look out for her." Last month the Houses had gathered at the Battagli estate. Nelle had climbed an oak, perched on a thick branch like a fledgling sparrow, and thrown acorns at Ennio Battagli's son for making some smart-ass crack at her sisters.

I couldn't help the grin spreading my mouth wide. Nelle had really good aim, and she'd peppered that stocky asswipe with a barrage of acorns, hard enough to bruise.

Wychthorn or not, the Battagli prick was going to thump her back. Later on, he'd snuck up on Nelle, about to sucker-punch her in the back of the head, until I got my hands on him and warned him off with a punch to the guts.

But as much as I didn't want to agree with my mother, she was right.

I did look out for her. I couldn't help it.

I'd figured out Nelle's secret long ago, but still, even now, I didn't understand the incessant curiosity—what it was about me and her. Whenever we were in the same space, which wasn't often—her presence at House gatherings rare—my attention would be drawn to her. All. The. Fucking. Time.

I shot a quick covert glance at my mother. She was leaning forward, readjusting Ferne's woolen blanket to cover her tiny feet. Thank fuck my mom couldn't read minds, or else I'd permanently have liquid soap pumped into my mouth.

"She's annoying," I said, toeing my weapons bag that sat on the floor of the limousine.

"And you can't keep your eyes off her," she teased, leaning back into her seat.

"Mom!" I crossed my arms, glaring, jutting my chin out. "I don't like her in that way." Gods, this kind of talk with your mother, em-fucking-barrassing.

"You know it's our way, Gray. As soon as you were born we were considering other Houses and all the possible marriage alignments, just like every single House does."

It was true, and I hated it. All my brothers did. Kenton was shitting himself over the thought that our parents were going to consider Carola Pelan. Not that we really had a chance in all Nine Hells aligning with an Upper House. But none of us wanted to be stuck with one of those creepy Pelans.

"Shame," my mother sighed lightly. She propped her elbow on the car window, resting her face in her palm. She gave me a sly sideways look. "Because Marissa and I have decided one of you boys will marry Nelle...and we decided...it would be you."

I think my heart just stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

My mother's laughter peeled into the shadowed car. "Kidding, Gray, kidding."

I let out a sigh of relief, sinking back into my seat and pressing a hand across my heartbeat pounding wildly in my chest. Thank fuck, she was kidding. Hells, I was way too young to think about things like marriage, even though I knew deep down, it was inevitable.

"Mark my words Gray, that girl, when she grows up and sets her sight on who she wants, they've got no chance."

Ferne heaved a sigh in her sleep, squiggling a little in her car seat, which displaced her knitted blanket. My mother pulled it back up, tucking the edges around my baby sister's chubby sides.

My mother had obviously been somewhere important before she'd been called in to pick me up. Her hair had been swept into a stylish hairdo and she wore an elegant dress. The dress's dark color and simple cut, made her jewelry stand out. A necklace of yellow diamonds, a special gift from my father, sparkled around her neck in the gloom of the limousine.

She turned back to me, the lightness in her expression dampening as she took me in.

I was still worried about Nelle, and I chewed on my thumbnail wondering what to do.

My mother was still young at 40, but she looked decades younger. She was never going to look any older than 25 no matter how many years passed. She'd begun experimenting with mortal cosmetics, like make-up artists on film sets, adding fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Using glamour was never going to work if someone had truesight and could see past the magic.

"What's wrong, Gray?" She smoothed back my hair. It was longer and need cutting, and she was able to tuck that defiant hank of hair behind my ear.

"It's Nelle. I'm worried about her."

I'd spent the day with my father at the estate of Yoran Novak. I was young, coming into the age, where, like Kenton, I was brought into the fold, into what our House did to serve the Horned Gods as enforcers for Upper House Novak. So today had been a kind of bring-your-kid-to-the-office day.

While my father had an impromptu meeting with Yoran and Master Sirro, I sat outside Yoran's office. The door was closed, but that was nothing to a Crowther.

For a while I'd been bored enough to mess with my phone or play with the small blades I carried, seeing how fast I could whirl them around or toss them like a juggler. But then I caught a name, and every sense was honed on that meeting held behind closed doors.

My mother had come to pick me up from my father since his day had devolved into something quite different. Something that a young boy at this point shouldn't be part of.

"I overheard something." That was me—always listening when I shouldn't. "About the Wychthorns. About Nelle."

My mother stiffened, instantly worried at what I was going to reveal. Marissa Wychthorn would come to visit her at our home. She was beautiful and funny. Really funny. She and my mother would tease one another mercilessly, and there was nothing better on a summer day to lounge on our lawn and bask in their easy banter—the kind two people who'd been best friends since childhood had.

"What about Nelle, Gray?"

"We've got to warn her."

"What from?"

"The Horned Gods are going to move on the Wychthorns tonight. They think she's other."

My mother's words were carefully spoken. "Do you think she's other?"

I ran my hands up and down my thighs. I'd never told a soul, never spilled Nelle's secret to anyone.

I drew in a deep breath and nodded.

I'd sensed it the moment I'd first met her as a tiny child. There was something that shimmered and shifted and sparked around us both, no matter how much I tried to deny it, and pretend it wasn't there. I wasn't other, but I knew she was.

My mother slid her phone from her handbag, her hands fumbling for the screen. The tinny sound of ringing filled the darkness in the limousine.

A moment later, Marissa answered. "Tabitha?"

My mother hurriedly whispered, "The Horned Gods, they're coming for Nelle. Tonight. You need to get her out. You need to run, Marissa."

"How...how did they find out?"

My mother's gaze darted to me. I shrugged, as that part hadn't been revealed within the meeting my father had with Sirro and Yoran. My mother answered, "I don't know. I've only just found out."

"What about you? Are they looking for you too?"

"I'm fine. No one knows about me. No one suspects. Don't worry about me."

They both whispered their goodbyes before hanging up. My mother let the phone drop to her lap and she swiped at her wet cheeks, wiping away her tears.

The way my mother had spoken to Marissa had my brows nudging together. "You knew about Nelle?" But why wouldn't she? Marissa was her best friend.

My mother's gaze was on her lap. She laced her hands together and twisted her fingers back and forth. "Yes, I've always known about Nelle," she said quietly. "I...I've never told anyone...not even your father."

That surprised me. But then, it was safer for my father not to know.

She lifted her head and smoothed a hand over her golden hair as she considered me thoughtfully, her grassy eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

"What is she?" I asked. My mother often could sense the power in others, what kind they were.

"I don't know, exactly." She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her wrist. She straightened, turning her body to face me fully. She cleared her throat, before saying, "Whatever is inside her has been growing with her, maturing with her age."

I blinked. Growing with her? Maturing? My forehead creased, perplexed. It was as if my mother thought there was something inside her, a separate entity, yet a part of her. And that was completely unheard of within our world.

"I have this feeling she's going to be something we've never seen before. Someone unique. Someone who could rival the Horned Gods themselves."

I let that sink in. Tried to process it.

Holy fuck, that kind of power—it wasn't something I could fully comprehend.

A moment later, my mother squeezed my hand and gave me a watery smile. "It's a good thing, what you did, Gray. I'm proud of you."

I wasn't so sure. I was betraying the Horned Gods. But I also couldn't bear the thought of Nelle being in their hands.

As we traveled down quiet country roads, I was nervous and worried for Nelle, but also felt a profound sense of relief settle over me, that my mother had warned Marissa in time.

But less than an hour later, the limousine suddenly spun sideways—

Flipping—

Rolling over and over and over—

The noise of crunching metal almost drowned out the sound of roaring wind and thunder, and Ferne's shrill screams. I was thrown around the backseat. My world turned upside down, tossed this way and that. My head and body cracked on metal and buckling glass, and then I was thrown.