Faye's POV
The word "might" hung in the air between us like a blade waiting to fall. Abel had just suggested I could have fae blood, but his uncertainty made everything worse. The possibility without proof felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing if the ground beneath my feet was solid or ready to crumble.
"You're telling me this because of how I reacted to that corrupted stone?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Abel's single nod carried the weight of centuries. "Every fae responds to those stones, Lady Faye. They call to us even when we know better than to answer. What strengthens a werewolf will poison our kind, twist us from the inside out. It's how we recognize each other through that deadly attraction." His eyes grew distant. "The stones know what we are, even when we don't. Combined with your lack of a wolf and these abilities you possess, the signs point in one direction."
