Heir of the Phoenix: Queen of Death

Chapter 7: The Great Lie

Aisling walks me as far as the gate to the Compound. Surprisingly, he kisses my forehead before turning into a ball of light and flitting off into the setting sun.

I enter through the black iron gates and travel the white rose-lined path to the main house, where Yeli greets me at the door. The smell of fresh rainwater and orchids fills my nose as she pats her messy bun. The elven woman ushers me through the foyer. She briefly stops to adjust a bushel of blood-red roses sprouting from a clay vase my mother has insisted on.

"Yeli, where are we going?"

"You're late, as always. They're already here." Yeli says impatiently.

"Late? Who's here?"

Yeli ignores the question, her face growing paler than usual. She tugs on my hand, pulling me towards my father's War Room. I can sense them.

"How long have they been here?"

Yeli stops in front of the door. She smooths out my shirt and pats my head. "A couple of minutes. The Stonecroft woman will undoubtedly have something to say about you coming in late."

She's not wrong. Beatrix is notoriously temperamental. The eldest of her trio of sisters, she has always been more singularly focused on her sisters' well-being until recently. She's really passed the threshold of being unpleasant at times.

"Now go!"

Yeli cracks the door and pushes me inside. The witches are sitting just as they did in the previous Colmata meeting. This time, Wilum is not the only other person in attendance. Esme sits beside her sister, waving furiously at me. Beatrix scowls as she lowers her younger sister's hand.

Hawthorne stands behind his mother. His expression is sullen as he looks over at me, his eyes puffy and red. Despite not shedding a tear, Cordelia looks crestfallen, as if she's just lost her best friend.

Contessa DeLaroy was Hawthorne's godmother if I'm not mistaken. She was Cordelia's best friend since university. The two had done a joint interview in the school newspaper last year about a beauty charm the the two created.

My father is speaking when I enter and stops. Illyria's perturbed expression is interrupted by a smile. "Peri. It's a good thing you are here; otherwise, your father would have insisted we postpone until you were found safe."

"Esme told me about what happened in Midas. It's a wonder you two made it out alive. I will be speaking with Erised." Dad says. "You've heard?"

"About Contessa? Yes."

"We were just cautioning your father not to jump to conclusions," Illyria says.

"She was stabbed to death, just as I was," Dad says. "It cannot be coincidence."

"We agree," Sybil says. "But we do not agree that fairies are behind it."

"Then who?"

"Dad," Wilum struggles to get the words out. "We know this is the work of fairies, but can we say that this is the work of all fairies? We know the Ardenes, the Wilteroses, and the Yarisems. They have worked alongside us for hundreds of years, even before the awakening."

"Wilum is right. The Fae take their alliances very seriously. If I recall, the Fae and the Witches are bound by more than an oath. The blood pact of our ancestors." Hawthorne interjects.

Dad sighs. The rest of the room is silent, save for their thoughts. They are in a state of quiet panic. Their minds are filled with questions for which they have no answers, and it's making them question what they know.

"How do we know the Fae haven't turned?"

"Rost is normally the most level-headed of us. Maybe he is not so wrong."