"This realm never stops surprising me," Asher said sarcastically, making sure his words carried through the library.
Violet could not fault him either, this was simply ridiculous. The Free Fae were incredibly short-sighted. How could her grandmother commit suicide just because her mother birthed her? Though she didn’t know the woman, it stung a little.
"It’s not suicide," Lila tried to come to Queen Elowen’s defense. "The gods simply took her upon her request."
But Roman snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep well at night."
Lila bristled at his words, saying defensively, "Queen Elowen was raised that way, so you couldn’t exactly blame her."
Except Asher turned slowly, his expression as dark as a brewing storm.
"Don’t," he said with an edge to his fault.
Lila frowned. "What?"
"Don’t use her upbringing as an excuse," Asher snapped. "Don’t dare use that as an excuse for her cruelty."
Everyone froze, stunned by Asher’s outburst.
He continued, his voice rising with each word, "My father raised me to believe women were things you disciplined, not people you listened to. By your logic, should I get a pass for that?"
Lila didn’t answer, the silence suffocating.
Asher continued, his eyes burning, "Should I be excused if I raised my hand to Violet? Should the gods nod and say, oh, it’s fine, that’s just his mentality?"
Lila’s mouth opened, then closed.
"No," Asher said harshly. "Because upbringing only explains behavior, it does not justify it. Nearly everyone is raised with poison of some kind, and what matters is whether you drink it or spit it out."
"Damn," Roman muttered under his breath, impressed as shit. Then he raised a hand to support Asher, saying, "preach, brother."
Asher wasn’t finished.
"Queen Elowen wasn’t a child, but a ruler. A Queen. She had the power, knowledge, and centuries to question her beliefs, instead, she chose to cling to them. She chose the dogma over her daughter, and in the end, even chose death over growth and responsibility. I’m sorry, but that’s not a tragic tradition, it’s cowardice."
Lila’s lips trembled. "You just don’t understand—"
"I understand perfectly," Asher cut her off. "Because I was given a similar kind of excuse growing up by my father, and I had to fight every day not to become the monster he expected me to be."
On cue, he looked toward Violet, his expression tender. "Being raised wrong doesn’t absolve you, it just means you were given a harder choice."
Then Asher shifted his attention back to Lila. "I know you want to preserve the memory of your precious queen, but refrain from feeding my purple queen such pathetic excuses. She has already received enough bullshit from the adults who were supposed to protect her. Don’t add to it."
And for once, Lila had nothing to say.
Nirmal stepped in. "There is no time for arguments. It’s important that the princess recognizes the faces of the ancestors who might help her."
"You mean the face of the ancestor who might help her," Alaric said sarcastically, "because so far, Queen Iskava seems to be the only one remotely welcoming. And even then, I worry her opinion would be drowned out by the others. If she wasn’t brave enough to speak up while she was alive, I wonder if she will now that she’s dead."
Nirmal said, her tone edged with irritation, "We’re looking at possibilities here, and she’s a good one. It’s up to Violet to convince her."
But the cardinal alphas had never been known to make things easy on anyone. Roman yawned and said, "I still don’t get the concept of my Violet having to convince these ancient figures that she’s worthy to rule when she’s their progeny. Don’t your ancestors have any sense of ancestral obligation to their own blood?"
Nirmal closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It’s the Trial of Ascension. They want to make the right choice."
Roman replied nonchalantly, "Then there shouldn’t have been a stupid trial in the first place. Violet is your heir, simple as that. It’s left to your people to get that into their heads."
Although the average Fae were beautiful, Queen Aelthryra was stunning and ethereal. Her skin was translucent, as though magic lived within her, illuminating her from the inside. And her hair, unmistakably, was purple. Violet noted that detail and said nothing.
Nirmal spoke as the projection continued. "Though blood calls to blood, and you will likely feel your ancestors as part of you, it is important that you are able to recognize them."
Violet nodded, committing every detail to memory. Unlike her mother, Queen Seraphira, whose presence was warm and welcoming, Queen Aelthryra radiated a fierce, no-nonsense authority that left no room for softness.
As the first Fae Queen to rule with the Untamed One, common sense told Violet that this queen was the least she’d want to get her approval. Her mind was rigid and sealed in time, and only the fifth goddess could perhaps convince her.
As soon as Queen Aelthryra’s projection came to an end, it was followed swiftly by her daughter’s, Queen Thryssia. Thryssia was the spitting image of her mother, not only in appearance, but in presence because they both shared the same crushing aura of dominance.
There was no doubt that Aelthryra had raised her daughter with an iron hand, molding her into extensions of her own will. And Thryssia, in turn, carried that legacy forward without hesitation, preserving the rigid doctrines of their people with ruthless devotion.
And yes, Thryssia had purple hair too.
"Is the purple hair important? What does it signify?" Violet finally asked.
"Yes," Nirmal said simply. "Each Fae court bears a signature color. It’s how the gods marked us. For example, the Winter Fae are often marked in blue and known to be cold, still, and unyielding. The Spring carries green, signifying their growth, renewal, and endless cycles. Summer burns gold, sometimes red. They are heat, vitality, and excess."
"And Autumn..." Nirmal breathed. "Their signature color is orange. They are decay and harvest intertwined. Endings that feed beginnings."
"Is that so?" Violet absorbed that before asking, "And the Free Fae? Why the color, purple?"
"For no grand reason," Nirmal admitted. "Or perhaps for every reason at once." She folded her hands. "Purple is the color that does not belong to any season. It is born of extremes, warm and cold, fire and shadow. Much like the Free Fae themselves. We have it all."
She then added, almost thoughtfully, "Some of us believe the colors is the way gods show that they too have a sense of humor. Others think it was simply their way of making sure we would always be recognized."
She added finally, "Or it could be all nonsense. The gods were simply bored."

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