Eryx let me process his words about my parents. I don't believe my mother was a Chosen. She was an innocent, sweet, good person, and so incredibly, blindly in love with my father.
"No," I whispered, breathless, as I felt my insides churn. "My mother was not a siren or a witch. I don't believe she was Chosen either. She was just good." Plain and simple. A light that cast the shadows aside in the bleary North.
To this day, I couldn't comprehend how quickly the nobles turned against her—my mother, Ysilda. How my father… my father cast her aside, disregarding the sacred mating bond, a gift by the Goddess. She wasn't a chosen mate but his soulmate, his destined other half—forsaken for Deyanira.