Rordan dropped his arms as memories of that night engulfed him. The screams of his mother, the heat of the fire. “The house was heavily warded, but it wasn’t enough. I was at the back of the estate in a small cottage because my father couldn’t stand the sight of me. I saw the flames at the main house first. I ran to the manor and found my mother being assaulted. The culprits were fighting with the family security, as well. I immediately went after those attacking my mum. I didn’t care what happened to me, only that she wasn’t hurt. I don’t remember much of the fight. When I came to, they were all dead. But…when I turned to my mother, she had already breathed her last. I didn’t even get to her before she turned to ash. The only thing I wanted to do was kill those responsible. I joined the security team. A few who attacked were smart enough to get away, but most died that night.
“The fire was extinguished, but there was nothing I could do about my mother. I was kneeling beside her ashes when my father walked in. He took one look at what was left of Mum and ordered me out of the house—and his life. He banished me from the family. I didn’t care. I had lost my mother, and I was grieving. They promptly forced me out of the house. I knew I wouldn’t be allowed at Mum’s memorial, and I wasn’t, though for a different reason.”
Fianna sat up and put her hand on his leg, sorrow in her beautiful silver eyes. “What happened?”
“My sisters were waiting for me when I left the estate. As soon as I saw them, I told them about Mum, but they didn’t seem to care. In fact, they weren’t shocked about the attack. They admitted to facilitating the entire event, though it wasn’t supposed to be Mum who died, it was supposed to have been me. The words barely registered before I was assaulted and left for dead.”
“No wonder you can’t stand your family. But you should tell your father the truth.”
Rordan twisted his lips. “It wouldn’t do any good. He believes Mum would still be alive if I hadn’t come home. And he’s right.”
“They are your family. You’re supposed to be able to turn to them in times of need.”
“Not mine,” he replied.
Fianna studied him for a moment. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there?”
He frowned, trying to think what could’ve led her to that conclusion.
“You were left for dead, yet here you are, on another path than your previous one.”
“People change.”
She gave him a pointed look. “You’ve had that same expression on your face each time you said you couldn’t tell me something. That look was there when you spoke of the attack.”
Fek. She was good. Rordan met her gaze and shrugged.
“I wish you trusted me.”
“I do,” he told her. “But there are rules I must follow.”
She gave him a sad smile. “Are these people you’re with good?”
“They are. There might be some who would disagree.”
“Like Dorcha?” she asked with a laugh.
Rordan took her hand and tugged her to him. “Don’t go back to Moorehall. I’m begging you.”
“Is something going to happen to my brother? Are you going to do something to him?”
“There is potential for something dire to happen, and you’d be wise to stay far away. None of it involves me. At this point.”
She swallowed as she rested her head on his chest. “I might not particularly care for Dorcha, or even some of the other guests he invited, but I can’t just stand by and allow them to be harmed. Tonight is our final meeting. This is when Dorcha picks who moves into the group.”
Rordan stared at the far wall, his mind going over everything. The Fae Others were going to arrive tonight—the same night as the meeting. That couldn’t be a coincidence. “What happens to those who aren’t chosen?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are they angry? Do they come back and attend more meetings, hoping to be chosen?”
Fianna was quiet for a moment, then she sat up and looked at him. “I have no idea. It was never part of my job.”
“You were at the other meetings. Do you not attend the final ones?”
“Well, in a way. Dorcha puts the people into two groups. They have no idea if they’ve been chosen or not. They each go into separate rooms. I follow Dorcha, and the servants show the others out.”
Rordan rubbed his hand over his chin. “Dorcha riles everyone up in his early speeches. Everyone who comes back has similar views and wants to see them carried out. I can’t imagine there haven’t been some who were angry at not being chosen. I still have an issue about Dorcha picking people.”
“It was how Da wanted it. I didn’t question things then. And if I did, I was told it wasn’t my concern. But you’re right. There should have been some scuffles or at least raised voices. I can’t remember a single instance. No guards said anything. No servants either. That’s not right. Now that I’m looking at everything in a new light, I have to ask myself why others wouldn’t see that Dorcha is selective.”
“They know,” Rordan told her. “That’s what makes him so appealing to the Fae elite.”
Her brows drew together. “Don’t they realize that if the Fae are united under one council, there won’t be any more nobility?”
“They won’t give that up easily. But they don’t care. They think they can have a council and still retain their ranking in society if they’re part of the movement.”
She sighed wearily as she looked away. “I can’t believe I was so blind to all of this.”
“Your eyes are open now.”
Her gaze slid back to him. “Let me help you.”
“What?” he asked, taken aback by her words.
“Let me help you with whatever you’re doing. I don’t want to be a part of what my family is doing. Because the more I learn, the more I question everything. I thought we were doing something good to change our culture. I’ve done what they’ve told me to all these years, and I can’t be a part of something that is ultimately a lie.”
Rordan brought her hand to his lips as he kissed it. There was no way he would let her anywhere near Moorehall, especially tonight. Fianna was special, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe—even if she hated him for it. So, he lied. “If you can help, I’ll let you.”
“Thank you. I need to do this.” She curled up against him.
He closed his eyes, hating the lie. “I know.”
“I wish you weren’t going back to the manor.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Dorcha will ask if you’ve seen me,” she said.
Rordan imagined punching Dorcha in the face. “I suspect he will.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
“What do you want me to tell him?”
She was silent for a moment, then she raised her head and smiled at him. “Tell him the truth.”
Rordan chuckled. He could well imagine Dorcha’s response. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a soft voice. “A part of me is worried about my father. Despite what he’s done, he’s still my da. Do you think he’s being treated fairly by those who have him?”