A Discovery of Secrets and Fate (Chronicles of the Stone Veil #2) - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,107

needs.

But really, I don’t care which it is. After Arwen helps me, I’m leaving Faere, and I don’t intend to ever come back.

“Let’s sit,” Arwen says, her voice soft and pleasant. She lowers herself gracefully down to the rugs and I follow suit, crossing my legs Indian style. Arwen removes the unlit pipe from her mouth, then sets it on the rug at her hip.

“Pyke called you his cousin,” I say, opening with conversation and to alleviate a mild curiosity. “You’re part of the royal family?”

Arwen smiles and nods. “Pyke’s father and my mother are siblings.”

“Why don’t you live with them?”

She actually chuckles, then shakes her head before waving a hand at her face. “Do you think the royals would accept a family member looking the way I do?”

“You were cast out?” I ask, aghast that such a thing could happen.

“No,” she replies softly. “My mother couldn’t bear having a disabled daughter, but my father wouldn’t let her send me away. It caused a bitter divide between them for I was never welcome at the castle and he would never go anywhere I wasn’t allowed.”

“He sounds like a great man,” I murmur.

“He was,” she says sadly, and the implication is clear that he’s no longer alive. “In fact, his death was the first glimpse of the future that I ever had. Of course, I didn’t know what I was really seeing. I thought it was just a dream, but I saw my mother kill my father and I didn’t realize I was seeing something that was going to take place until it was too late. After he was dead, that’s when I was cast out of our manor lands, and I’ve been living here ever since. Needless to say, I don’t have a relationship with my mother.”

“I… I’m not even sure what to say to that,” I say, miserable with sympathy. “That’s awful, and it must be terribly lonely.”

Arwen shrugs. “Not too terribly lonely. I’ve made friends with those who live on the fringe. I have a lover, and we’ve been together for a century. People come to see me with problems, and I help them. It’s a life I’m satisfied with.”

“And you can see… despite…” My words trail away, feeling crass for bringing up these morbid curiosities.

Arwen laughs, and it’s not bitter at all. In fact, I’d say she finds me somewhat adorable with my questions. “Despite the fact I have no eyes?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“I don’t mind,” she says with a quick wave of her hand. “But to answer your question, I was completely blind until the moment I saw my mother killing my father. After that event came to pass, I was able to see as clearly as if I had eyes.”

“And your mother was never prosecuted for what she did?”

“That’s not how it works here,” Arwen explains, giving me another lesson in how brutal the Light Fae can be. “My mother has blood ties to the royal line. My father was in disfavor with everyone for refusing to abandon me. When she killed him, nobody saw anything wrong with it.”

“That’s an abomination,” I exclaim, completely offended on her behalf.

“That’s life in Faere,” she replies with one shoulder raising in a shrug.

Now I clearly don’t know what to say to that. She seems so genuine in her acceptance of a very bizarre and painful life, and it makes me feel that perhaps I too can conquer the strange turn of events I’m facing.

“Do the nobility and gentry come to seek your services?” I ask her, curious if she has any value whatsoever in their eyes.

Arwen shakes her head. “Their lives are perfect, and they can’t see past that, nor do they want to. It’s mostly the poor and outcast I help.”

I nod, admiring her spirit and desire to help, especially when I haven’t seen that as a common value among the fae. “You knew I was coming,” I state, but it’s a curiosity.

“I’ve dreamt of you,” she says, frowning slightly. “Which is odd, because I don’t see realms past Faere, and I’ve never dreamt of a human.”

“And you have the ability to see my future?” I ask her hesitantly.

“I have the ability to see far more than the future,” she replies, holding her hands out to me. Without any misgiving, I place mine in hers. “I also have the ability to see the past. Scrying means I can piece together a story based upon past and future events, but there’s no guarantee exactly how much I can