I STARED AT my father, waiting for him to say something after the bombshell he’d dropped on me. The torment in his eyes was too much to bear, and it was almost a relief when he turned his head away.
My mind whirled as I tried to think of a response to his declaration that the Seelie crown prince was my brother. My brother, who had died twenty years ago, when he was two months old. The only plausible explanation was that the stress of my near-death had caused Dad to have a mental setback.
Guilt pressed down on me. The doctors had warned me this could happen if he didn’t take it slowly. I needed to call them. The possibility of Dad having to go back to the treatment facility gutted me, but we couldn’t risk his health. Fifty percent of recovering goren addicts went back to using within the
