Reaching Answers (Artemis University #8) - Erin R Flynn Page 0,91

laugh that turned into a sob as she clutched me. Shock and adrenaline were funny like that, spinning us out and not letting us get our feet for a while. It was understandable. Her parents hadn’t wanted to simply mate her off to raise their standing.

They’d been willing to completely sacrifice her, leave her nothing more than a vegetable to get in with their corrupt council. Their actions showed how little she mattered to them, even her mother who she’d truly loved.

If someone didn’t break down sobbing from that then they had no soul and were made of stone.

And I preferred my friends to have a soul. I would simply bring tissues and fae treats when we needed it.

20

A couple of weeks later, I was recharging from unfreezing fairies with piles of fast food and a night alone… And a plan to finally tackle something I’d been dancing around.

When I’d asked Craftsman how he’d coped with losing his dad, the idea of writing letters had sounded helpful to my situation. However, the execution of it hadn’t been working for me. Mostly because I was too angry to focus, stuck in the midst of the storm and getting tossed around with it.

But anger was distracting and that was dangerous given how much I was handling. And I always had people around me, guards I paid to do that to protect me, and the eyes didn’t help.

So I’d ditched everyone and was done with the hemming and hawing. I was hidden in one of my favorite places after it had closed and ready to get down to it.

Katrina Calloway wouldn’t mind. She had said I was always welcome at her store after all. I’d spent so much money there that I doubted she’d really be miffed if she found me sitting among her stockpiles of books trying to write a letter to my deceased mother who was the queen of the light fairies and I’d just found that all out.

Yeah, I would have let that one go too.

Hell, I wished it wasn’t my reality.

I shoved my chalupa in my mouth and sighed, not letting myself reach for anything else until I put something on the damn paper of the journal I’d bought just to work on this. It seemed silly to buy a fancy journal to write angry letters to your dead mother but she had been queen and… I was an idiot. I had wanted to do this respectfully when I knew it would get ugly.

M,

Did you even love me? Could you even love me at all and use me like this? Were you one of those parents like I’ve seen so many times living with humans? Those ones when asked why they had children, they reply, “Because we wanted to.” Well, that’s great… For them. What does that do for the child? You wanted kids and had some.

Awesome. How selfish.

Are you capable of giving them what they need? Are you mentally fit to shape and mold another living being and raise them to be useful members of society? Did you think of what they wanted? Would they want you for a parent?

No? It was all about you?

How selfish. Good job, you flunked the first test of being a good parent.

People like that have always irked me and they never understand how horrid their answer is, getting miffed and accusing you of hating kids when you point out what they’ve logically just said. They can’t see past themselves and worry for anyone else.

So as much as I want to accuse you of being one of those people, I don’t think that’s your damage. I think you’re selfish, but not in that way. I think you love being loved. Maybe. Everything I’ve heard about you was that you were the nicest, kindest person ever. Hearing that constantly has to be wonderful, nice, and soothing.

Addictive even.

I wonder what someone would do to keep hearing that, being beloved like that? It sounds crazy to put it in that context, but people kill to keep love. They knock off the spouses or lovers of the people they want thinking they’ll have a chance. Certain people can get twisted up and warped.

Neldor’s mother makes it clear that fairy queens aren’t exempt from that, so it seems fair to ask… What was your damage? What warped and twisted you up enough to sacrifice your own fucking daughter as you did?

Because let’s be clear—that’s what you did. You sacrificed me. How could you do that and ever love