A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

23. Set Me Free

twenty-three

Set Me Free

Alessia

M inutes pass. I stay rooted in the same spot the entire time, my feet refusing to move, yet my bones ache as if I’ve traveled thousands of miles.

Then, slowly, their wrinkled hand reaches for the hood. But something on the back of their hand catches my attention. I squint, trying to make it out.

When I do, I gasp, and they freeze. My heart drops into my stomach, churning like an old stew.

Their hands are familiarly scarred, and it causes my heart to skip a beat.

It can’t be.

After what feels like a lifetime frozen in shock, they finally move, pulling their hood back.

Salt-and-pepper hair tumbles free, framing their kind face. Immediately, my tears flow, falling without abandon.

“Char?” I choke out between sobs.

“You made it, my Alessia.” Pride fills her voice, but her mouth tugs into a frown.

Her eyes are an eerie sight, with her pupils and irises disappearing into the white of her sclera. She can’t see .

She limps toward me and plants a hand on my shoulder. It’s such a familiar, maternal show of affection, that my heart squeezes.

“This is another illusion,” I murmur.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “The mirrathyst crystals present illusions, showing you as you could have been—as you have been—but I am real.”

“You’re—you died.” My voice cracks. I scan her frantically, unable to understand how she’s standing before me. I expect to see at least an angry, jagged pink wound lining her throat, proof of what had happened all those months ago, but her skin is unharmed.

Shaking off the shock, I reach for her, pulling her in for a long hug. She softens in my arms, her chest expanding and contracting against my own.

“You feel so real,” I whisper as I stay latched onto her.

“It is truly I,” she says.

“Can you see me?” I tremble as the gravity of her presence washes over me. She’s here. She’s really, really here.

“I can see much without my vision.”

“I don’t understand. How are you here?” I squeeze her tighter, waiting for her familiar lemon and peppermint scent to wash over me, but she smells different. Not like the Char I know and love. “What happened to your eyesight?”

She pulls back, keeping her hands on my arms. “It was a price I paid for…”

An empty silence hangs between us for a few moments until I realize she isn’t going to finish the sentence.

“What does that mean?” I ask. Prices being paid… it sounds awfully like an Avylonian thing. But Char is from Dovenak. Isn’t she? “You’re not human, are you?”

Her responding smile is almost pitying. “Not quite, my dear. Not quite.”

“Fae,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I am the hand of fate, guiding you toward your destiny.”

I frown, my body going rigid. “ You work with Fate? The god?”

The simple nod she gives me has such a profound impact that my legs momentarily lose their strength. My heart, freshly sewn together by her reappearance, is torn open anew by the sharp blade of betrayal.

Char, the one constant in my life and the only person I considered family has deceived me.

“There is no such thing as freedom,” I whisper. Another tear slips free, and I wipe it away. I hate how small I feel. “You’ve been pushing me to do what you wanted me to do this whole time?”

Lies.

Everything is made of lies.

Char’s shoulders sag an inch as she reaches up and cups my cheek. “My dear, you are always in charge of your life. You have many paths, many fates. I have guided you toward the stronger threads. Toward the destiny where you step into your power, mending the rifts in the realms.”

“I don’t…” The words stick in my throat. “I don’t understand.”

She releases my cheek and gives it a soft pat. “You are not meant to. Not yet.”

The shock gives way to a thick bitterness .

“You just stood by and watched me get abused.” I take a step back, wanting to distance myself from her. “You’re not the person I thought you were.”

Then again, she’s not a person at all.

Her face falls, sadness creeping onto her face. Her unseeing eyes stay locked onto my face. “It is not so simple, my Alessia—”

“You lied to me,” I hiss, trying to quell the blossoming tears.

“Forgive me for lying.” Her words echo what she said in death, and it cracks my shell just an inch.

I squeeze my eyes shut, blinking away the blurry vision. A few tears sneak down my cheeks despite my request. “I watched you die.”

“I had protections in place. I did not truly die, but you needed to believe I was dead.”

“That’s cruel, Char,” my voice cracks.

“Forgive me, dear.”

I shake my head.

“You never would have left me had you thought I was alive,” she says, her voice as steady as it always has been.

“I watched you bleed out on the kitchen floor,” I say, my anger rising to the surface. “I have nightmares about it.”

“That is one price I paid for interfering: losing you.” She holds out a hand to me, and I shake my head, refusing to accept. “I pay a steep price for interfering with fate, but such a price was worth it for the future you have in store.”

“A future I have no say in.”

“A future that belongs to you if it is what you accept. You have the power of choice, my dear, regardless of my guidance. There are many fates and possibilities, each stemming from your free will. I have taken nothing but given you much.”

I shake my head, unable to speak through the anger and resentment clogging my throat.

“In many threads, your life ends before you reach womanhood.” She shuts her eyes, wincing. “I have given more than you realize, and I regret nothing.”

My anger falters.

“You’re a god ,” I say, exasperated.

She chuckles sadly. “Not a god. Only a Threadweaver who works with the gods, but to you, I will always be your Char.”

I shake my head, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “You were never my Char.”

“There is power in names, you know.”

“Not when you lie about them,” I mutter.

“Have you never wondered what your last name is?” she asks, ignoring me.

“I don’t have a last name. I only have a first name because you gave it to me.” My shoulders collapse, weighed down with baggage. I was simply Dolly to the lord—his little toy, his doll—until Char called me Alessia.

She shakes her head. “I did not give you your name. It belonged to you before I entered your world.”

My body softens. “That’s the name my parents gave me?”

“It is. Do you want to know what it means?” She asks. I shake my head. “Defending warrior. You, Alessia, are a warrior of truths. Defender of realms.”

“What does that even mean?” I’m no warrior. I’m nothing like Viv or Ken, no matter how much I want to be.

“You will find out when you are ready.”

A retort burns my tongue, but Rainer’s words fill my thoughts. He told me to come here. Did he know who Char was? I quickly shake that thought away. He couldn’t have. He never met her.

“I need your help,” I say, remembering why I came here. “Rainer was taken by the queen. How can I free him?”

“I can not tell you what I see; I can only guide you to follow certain threads, but you must weave them yourself with your own choices.”

“What if I choose wrong?” My voice wavers.

Char smiles. “You will not. Trust yourself.”

“But—”

“The first test was when you entered the Cave of Reflection.” She gestures gracefully at the reflective walls—the mirrathyst crystals. “You could have chosen to tie yourself to alternate threads—the life of a princess, or one of a warrior, or to escape to the past or the future. However, you chose yourself in the present.”

“Those scenes were real? A test?” I glance at the reflections around us but only see my regular reflection. “Those were really my parents.” I spin around, eyeing the gleaming walls. “But who was with me in the future vision? I couldn’t see their face.”

“Does it matter?”

I think of the adoration in my gaze as I stared at them, of the contentment with which I danced. A yes! almost bursts free from me, but I hold it back for some reason.

Does it matter?

Of course it does, but wouldn’t knowing who it was spoil some of my ability to appreciate the present? Seeing that I was happy in that future is enough for me. If that future comes to pass, I’d rather let it play out how it’s meant to.

“Yes,” I finally say. “It does matter, but I don’t want to lose my present, always searching for my future.” And if I knew who was in that reflection with me, I’d constantly be searching for them—for that perfect future.

Her smile grows. “Precisely why I trust you to choose wisely. You are perfectly content here, in the now.” She places her hand on my chest, where my heart beats fiercely. “It is much too exhausting to live in the past, much too worrisome to live in the future. Meet yourself in the moment, as you are. Accept yourself as is.”

She pulls her hand back. But I redirect the conversation before she can speak any more of her riddles.

“Why did Rainer tell me to come to you?” I ask. “Why did Ezamae want to bring me here?”

“They have visited the Cave, as all Royal Fae have. It is customary for them to tap into the full extent of their power.”

I begin pacing. “It doesn’t make sense.” I pause, studying her again. “You’ve been in Dovenak with me for as long as I can remember.”

She gestures around the cave. “Those who visit do not need my presence to look within. The Cave contains much of Fate's illusory magic within the mirrathyst, presenting unique trials for the fae who enter.”

“Did they have to choose which life to live, too?”

“Not quite. Each fae is tested differently. What you see is representative of your unique challenges.”

“What did the others see? ”

Char’s smile widens. She chuckles. “Oh, my dear Alessia, I can not tell you the intimate reflections of their lives.”

“But why did they both send me here?” What am I missing?

“I imagine they sent you here, knowing what you are and knowing you have never tapped into any of your magic.”

“Wait—but you said Royal Fae come here for magic… I’m not even full-fae; I’m… just part demon .”

Her brows raise. “My Alessia, you are never just anything.”

She reaches up to gently cup my cheek. The feel of her coarse skin, combined with how she calls me hers, sends a fresh wave of tears spilling down my cheeks.

It doesn’t matter what I am or am not. There will be time to let it all sink in later. For now, I want to rescue Rainer.

“Does this mean you’re gifting me magic?” I ask, sniffling, as I pull away from her.

She shakes her head softly. “I do not gift anything other than insight.” She taps the spot over her heart. “You have everything you need inside of you.”

I stare at her, not comprehending. “Char—no. I need magic or for you to tell me the future. I need help getting Rainer!”

She smiles. “You have all that you need.”

Blowing out an annoyed breath, I glance at the ceiling before refocusing on Char. “Please. Give me something .”

“You misunderstand me. There is no magic here to give. The trials are about facing one’s truth, unlocking the magic within.”

This percolates in my mind as a few things begin to make sense. “They’ve all visited… Rainer. Ezamae. Eoin. Sennah.” A flicker of pride blossoms at the fact Rainer passed his trials and embraced his truth to become more . “But Eoin failed. He doesn’t accept himself?”

Char’s head tilts, and her lips press together. Perhaps that’s why Eoin resents Rainer. He’s previously made insecure, stinging comments about how Rainer’s magic is a stain—how it’s useless.

Perhaps that’s the point. He’d see the truth if he focused on himself instead of others.

“How did Rainer pass? He seems to loathe himself for what he is,” I mutter, confused.

“He loathes himself for how he is perceived, for what he might devolve into,” Char says softly. “But he never lied to himself about who he is.”

Rainer didn’t tell me to come here to find magic or uncover a way to free him but to push me toward self-discovery and accepting my true identity. He wanted me to connect with my inner self.

He pushed me away yet again, emphasizing the importance of my self-care over his rescue.

Coming here was never about him .

Selfless arse!

I’ve already wasted enough time, but there’s one more thing I want to ask before I leave.

“About my parents…” I start. “That reflection of the past. That was really them?”

She nods, and my throat thickens with a slew of emotions—joy, grief, sorrow. That was my mother. My father.

They were real .

Char pulls her hood up around her face. “Finish your trials and find out what lies inside of you. Farewell for now, my Alessia. ”

“Wait, Char!” I reach out to grab her. “You've helped me for so long, so why are you leaving me now?”

She turns, wearing an expression that resembles a proud mother. “You are no longer a broken little girl. Step into your indestructible self. Face your truths.” She gently pulls free of my hand and steps up to a mirror, facing me one last time. “You must face yourself. All of you.”

She lifts a foot and steps into the crystal. The glass-like surface shimmers and warps, turning liquid as it swallows her whole. I watch her leave, desperate to chase after her, to ask more questions, to find the friend who lives deep inside of her.

But I stay rooted in my spot.

The day I watched Char die was a day of death. The death of my life as I knew it. That’s a death I can no longer mourn. I sniffle back the burgeoning tears, allowing myself to grieve the Char I grew up with. The woman I knew—the one who protected me.

She betrayed me, yes, but she saved me.

She set me free.