“The ogre was…” He cleared his throat and looked up at me. “That was my father.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “But…but you don’t look evil or ugly and you only have one head!” I pointed out, remembering how Bran had said that ogres could have up to twenty heads sometimes.
“Nevertheless, I am half my father,” he said. “It’s the reason I never dare to do anything but White Magic. Not that I want to take the easy way out, the way those spoiled High Sidhe of the Summer Court do,” he added scornfully. “It’s cowardly not to take the pain along with the power you call.”
“But…the ogre,” I said, going back to the startling revelation he’d told me. “Is that the reason you couldn’t fight him or kill him? Because he was your father?”
Lachlan’s face twisted bitterly.
“Essentially, yes. He is high among the guardsmen of the Winter Court—he guards Queen Mab herself. I knew she would make things hard for my mother if I wounded or killed him. Also, patricide is a heavy sin—it would certainly have corrupted my soul even more than it already is.”
“Well…do you think Bran killed him?” I asked hesitantly.
Lachlan shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said darkly. “If he had, Queen Mab couldn’t hold him accountable since he is from the other Court. And it would finally give my poor mother some peace. She was a Sidhe maiden of the Summer Court,” he added. “Before my father stole her away and made her pregnant with me.”
I bit my lip as I understood his meaning. When he’d said he was a product of violence, this was what he meant. His father had abducted his mother and… I didn’t like to think about it.
It also made me remember how white Lachlan’s face had gotten when that nasty Allison Rose had said he was “probably half troll.” No wonder he had gotten upset—because he literally was half ogre—which was probably about the same thing. Though to be honest, I didn’t know the difference between an ogre and a troll and I hoped I never had to find out.
“I’m sorry, Lachlan,” I said, squeezing his hand. “But you shouldn’t have to feel responsible for how you were born and who you were born to—that’s not your fault!”
“That is always what my mother says, too.” He gave me his one-sided smile, which looked sad this time, I thought. “She loved me despite the way I was conceived. I have her to thank for the unstained half of my soul.”
“Bran doesn’t know, does he?” I asked softly.
Lachlan shook his head.
“I’ve never told him who my father really is and he hasn’t asked.”
“Are you afraid it would make him feel differently about you?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head again. “Bran is unfailingly loyal—it’s one of the things I value about him the most. I didn’t tell him for the same reason you didn’t want to tell anyone you needed money to pay your mother’s rent.”
“You were embarrassed,” I guessed.
He nodded. “It’s a shameful thing to have a dark creature as one of your parents—to know that your lineage and your soul are stained before you even enter the world.”
“You know, I might have the same kind of parentage,” I said, frowning. “I mean, I have black hair, like you and I have no idea who my real parents are.”
“You also have the triple-ringed, gold-flecked eyes,” he pointed out. “Though you doubtless have some darkness in your heritage, it comes from a higher place than my own bloodlines.”
“You really think I’m some kind of, uh, bastard of the King or something?” I asked, remembering Allison’s words.
Lachlan shrugged.
“I don’t know—it’s possible, I suppose. You’ll probably never know unless you decide to pass through the Obsidian Portal and go to Court to try and find more information about your past.”
“No thank you!” I shivered and shook my head. “I was raised in the human world and it’s good enough for me. I have absolutely no desire to pass through the Obsidian Portal and I’m never going to the Fae Court—either the Summer one or the Winter one.”
I had no idea how soon I would break the promise I had made to myself. But when I did, it wasn’t my fault.
It was all because of Morganna Starchild and her nasty temper. Although I swear I didn’t mean to do what I did to her…
61
After getting Marked by my guys, which held off the weak-minded idiots who had been bothering me, and learning to control my magic—(well, mostly,)—as well as breaking my mom’s addiction to cigarettes, my own addiction to nail-biting, and finding my mom a nice clean safe place to live, you’d probably think the next week at school was all roses and sunshine.
Well, you’d be wrong. And it was all because of Morganna.
I guess the week before she’d been distracted by the skink, which had taken up residence in her ear when Saint had ordered it out of mine. But she had apparently found a way to get rid of it because when I walked into second period, AP Biology on Monday morning, she was holding court as usual.
Bran and Lachlan were on either side of me, protecting me from unwanted advances, but I was still deeply relieved when none of the popular idiots, who had been bothering me all of last week, jumped out of their chairs and approached me. Elian Darkwing gave me a longing glance and Francisco and Cedric both stared as I took my seat, but none of them got up and came over.
Good, I thought with relief. The Marking must be working.
I wondered if anyone in the class could actually see Lachlan and Bran’s Marks on me. According to Avery, wearing a one-way Marking was a little bit like having on a flesh-colored Band-Aid. You could see it, if you were looking for it and you knew where to look, but it wasn’t super obvious.
Nobody said anything—other than the usual nasty whispers about the three of us—and I was used to ignoring them.
Morganna, however, was not used to being ignored.
“Look at the pretty little threesome,” she said, much louder than a whisper. “Did you hear that Plunkett thinks she’s a Royal?” She laughed nastily, clearly wanting the rest of the popular group to join in.
There was some laughter, but it was scattered and uneasy.
“But, Morganna,” I heard one of the other girls whisper. “She really might be a Royal! Look at her eyes—she has a triple ringed iris and golden darts in her irises—just like King Tyr and Queen Elia! What if she really is a by-blow of His Majesty?”
“Well, then she’s only an illegitimate bastard,” Morganna snapped. “That doesn’t make her a Royal!”
“Yes, it does! Her blood makes her a Royal,” another Fae boy pointed out. “Which means she could get you into a lot of trouble at Court if you don’t leave her alone.”
“Ha!” Morganna tossed her long, honey-blonde hair in a silky wave over her shoulder. “That nasty little troll will never be admitted to Court. And if she did, she wouldn’t know how to act when she got there! She’s been raised like a Norm all her life and if you ask me, that’s what she really is. She’s just put a spell on herself to make it look like she’s Fae.”