A Matter of Truth (Fate, #3)

It’s a lesson I’m learning myself.

Erik rationalized his addition to our little party by claiming he needed to stick with us, at least until we got to the hospital in Annar, to oversee our injuries. I think he’s nervous, though. He left Annar much in the same way so many Métis do—in anger while filled with justifiable hurt. His mother, a prominent Elvin Shaman who’d had an affair with an army doctor she’d met on the Human plane during the Vietnam War, refused to leave Annar and her work. Despite her obvious distaste for him and what he represented, Erik had stuck it out for years, shuttled back and forth between his parents (who, according to what he’d told us last night, still refuse to speak to one another; worse yet, his father doesn’t even know his mother is a Magical and believes she lives in Europe). But when he realized his mother basically saw him as merely an obligation rather than her son, he left and didn’t look back until today. He moved in with his dad, thought about attending medical school, but eventually chose to pursue being a nurse practitioner because he knew it’d piss his mother off.

And now we’re asking him to go back to Annar, possibly face his mother (who would probably be swell friends with my own mom, what with the stories I heard of her yesterday) and all the memories of people and places that tried to make him feel less than he was. I didn’t say it to him, because I don’t think Erik is the sort to be reassured by words, but I made a mental promise to him that I was going to do everything in my power to end the struggle Métis face in our community.

Because I’m going to do this Creator thing my way. I’m going to own it. I’m not going to sit back and be a passive participant in the Council who waits for her marching orders. It’s the only way I can survive it all.

I glance at the snow-covered mountain range in the distance, and their majestic beauty strikes me. I make myself another promise. I’ll be back.

And then we go up the ramp, Nell’s nails clicking on the non-skid strips next to me. “You okay?” Erik asks quietly. Him talking to me directly is so rare I jerk in the chair.

But his eyes are kind and filled with concern. If anyone knows what it’s like to fight for what you want for your life, it’s him. So I don’t resent his question, which everyone and their brother keeps asking me lately. “Yeah,” I tell him.

Because I think I finally, truly am.





When the first flash goes off, I dismiss it as nothing. When the subsequent dozen nearly blind me, I realize there’s a problem as I gingerly step out of Transit Station and onto the streets of Annar for the first time in over half a year. There’s what seems to be a handful of photographers shouting at me, questions about where I’ve been and who the people I’m with are, as well as a rapidly growing crowd of rubberneckers that form a living wall difficult to breech.

It’s like a nightmare come to life. How did they know I’d be here?

Karl yells at everyone to back up, but as he’s suffering from a few bruised (and possibly broken) ribs, his voice doesn’t boom like it normally does. Will loops his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in closer, one of his arms coming up to block my face from all of the critical eyes around us. Erik hovers behind us, hands pressed against our backs like he’s trying to keep us upright in this madness. From behind us, I can hear Nell barking her warnings, and Cameron’s stern voice trying to keep her from attacking anyone who comes too close to us.

Chloe, the people around us yell, Councilwoman Lilywhite, is that you, you look so different, where were you, what happened, did the Elders get you like we all feared? Who are these people? Why are you blonde? Who is the guy? Why is his arm around you? What happened to you? Why do you look like you’ve fallen off a ten-story building and barely made it out alive?

Chloe, they keep asking, why won’t you answer us?

But the truth is, I don’t think I could get the words out right now if I even tried. Pain twists and blooms through every breath, every step, making any chance at grabbing my breath damn near impossible. These people, they’re reaching out, trying to touch me, but their touches are needles against my injuries.

More shouts circle us; only these aren’t from the crowd, now edging into the hundreds. I spot Giuliana Arancionestella, a friend from the Guard who protected Jonah and Kellan several years ago against the Elders, pushing her way through the crowd while ordering people to back away. And then I see Kiah Redrock, Kopano Melesi-Yellowbird, and Iolani Popolohua doing the same. Somebody’s called in the cavalry.