“There are so many questions I wish I could ask my mom,” I admit.
“What would you ask?” The words slur together, but he gets them out.
“Why she married Creg,” I say, pointing to the glass, which he obediently brings to his mouth. “Whether she loved him and why she left him and whether she was happy in the human world. Whether she actually murdered someone and hid her body in the burnt remains of Creg’s original stronghold.”
He looks surprised. “I always forget that part of the story.”
I decide a subject change is in order. “Do you have questions like that for your father?”
“Why am I the way I am?” His tone makes it clear he’s proposing something I might suggest he ask, not really wondering about it. “There are no real answers, kim. Why was I cruel to Folk? Why was I awful to you? Beca
