The fey wonders of the world only exist while there are those with the sight to see them.
~Charles de Lint
Ciar has disappeared off to wherever he goes to get ready for a Hunt which leaves me alone in the dark, listening to the argument happening above me. I’ll freely admit that it’s more interesting than I imagined it would be.
Her voice is shrill and tear-choked as she rails at him for not making sure she has money for more maternity clothing. While Rime, surprisingly patient, asks her what happened to the other new clothes he bought her.
She informs him that it’s not enough. She needs a few outfits a day to feel happy. Wow, just wow.
“Why are you reading that stupid book. I already told you about Awakenings.” Her voice is less shrill but snider now. I really don’t like the woman and I never will. It’s obvious she’s manipulating him magically and otherwise.
If only I knew how the guilt plays into it.
“I hate to say it Penelope, but I feel like you’re not being completely honest with me about all of this. You disappeared for months and then track me down saying you’re pregnant with my baby.”
“It’s your fault I left! You said you were sensing an Awakened. I didn’t want to be second in your life and now that we’re here, I don’t want to share you with that fat troll.”
Fat troll? For a moment I want to go punch her right in her whiney mouth, but then I remember that she is pregnant, and, in her place, I wouldn’t be thrilled if my husband went off chasing some strange person.
Then again, it’s an Awakening and I’d probably be more understanding about it. It’s not like I’m all up on his lap or anything. In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t really like him much either. This situation isn’t my fault any more than it is his.
“It says here that a member of a Triad can’t have a baby until the Triad is formed.” Oh, things are getting interesting now.
“That’s a bunch of bullshit and you know it. You’re looking at me gross and pregnant with your baby and saying that?” I can feel the spell she is casting lapping around his Aura, which is new. Or maybe it’s because I’m sitting here being a creep and listening in on a private conversation, so I’m concentrating harder.
“These books can’t be tampered with,” Rime defends.
This is something all Fae are taught as children when they first start to show magic, but she won’t know that because she isn’t Fae. This is about to get incredibly interesting now.
“I don’t understand how a book can’t be rewritten. Your Fae gods make no sense to me. Give me that and I’ll throw it away.” She squeaks when it zaps her. You’d think she learned the first time.
Is there a chance that the wards on this place are interfering with her magic on him?
There’s some stomping above me and a slamming door, but no more words are exchanged. Slightly disappointed he didn’t straight up call her out for her deception, I roll over and fluff my pillow.
Rime isn’t demonstrating a lot of intelligence here. I’m kind of magic dumb and even I can see her magic coating him in its oily residue. Looking at him, feeling what I can feel from him—he’s too strong for someone like her to be able to pull this off.
The guilt factor must be strong indeed for him to sacrifice his freedom for someone who is lying about something as life-altering as a child. There’s no going back from being a parent. At least a decent parent, and if I had to guess, dumb or not, if he’s willing to accept the baby even if it’s not his, then he’ll be a good parent.
I’d bet money on it.
There’s also the chance that the woman has more than her own magic involved. There are such things as enchanted objects and such. It can also explain why I don’t feel it. I can’t pick up something like that, but I know who can.
“Zag. I know you’re awake, you were eavesdropping too.” There’s a grumble from the covers at the foot of the bed, then he pops his head up, his eyes glowing in the dark room.
“It was a rather engaging episode. I look forward to others than involve less door slamming.”
“It’s not TV you butt head.” I poke at him with my foot.
“Close enough. Now what is it you need?
“I need you to find out if there is a spelled object on Rime or Penelope. I can’t sense them, but I know you can.”
“As you wish.” He settles back down into the blankets, “I don’t like that human Mage.”
Me neither, but I keep that to myself. “Thank you, Zag.”
“The dark lord is right you know.” Isn’t he always?
“How’s that Zag?”
“With this foolish man’s reluctance to forge the bond he creates an opportunity for someone to step into his shoes.”
“Do they have to be compatible or can any jerk just waltz in and do it?”
“It has to be someone similar to the destined one.”
“So, how are they destined if anyone can take their place?”
“Normally they aren’t reluctant.” Well, that answers those questions. Great, just great.
“You know, I’ve never asked you, but how do you talk so well for someone who supposedly lived alone and far away for an eternity in some dank cave?”
His chuckle makes me smile in the dark.
“TV, duh.” He cuddles my foot and sighs as he settles in for sleep. That’s what is making my eyes heavy and my body sink further into the bed.
“How did you learn the way you did, living in the forest with a bunch of monsters?” he asks into the sudden stillness of the room.
“TV, duh.” Clenching my hand to tuck it under the pillow, I freeze. My hand is no longer empty—instead the warm wooden neck of a violin fills it. Is this some kind of weird cosmic hint? Because I’m not hurting a pregnant woman. Nope, nu-uh.
Gods, I almost forgot about the violin. So much has been going on and… apparently, it’s tired of me forgetting about it. Ciar did say it’s sentient. Patting it, I close my eyes to sleep. It’s not glowing or making noises, it’s simply there, so I take that as a sign that it’s safe to go to sleep.
Maybe it wants a cuddle too.
I realize something as sleep claims me hard and fast, having its presence there reminds me a little tiny bit of Ciar.
* * *
“Run, Keri!” Why is Peter’s face all bloody? Mother did it! Mother hurt Peter! Running through the hallway I look behind me, seeing the shadow of my mother creep around the corner, the dagger held high in her hand.
“Come here pretty girl, mommy has a present for you.”
I want to help Peter, but mother is scary, she never calls me a pretty girl. Peter’s delicate hands grab me in a strong grip and drag me backwards towards the door, just as mother comes around the corner.
But… but she doesn’t look like mother anymore. Her hair is a tangled mess around her head and her face has streaks of something dark down one of her cheeks. Are those claws on the hand wrapped knuckle-white around the dagger?
“Okay Keri-bell, you have to run as fast as you can, you—” Peter starts to say, right before I’m jerked out of his arms and find myself dangling from the floor against the wall. My mother’s hate filled eyes stare into mine.
“Now he’ll pay for everything.”
The knife digs into my flesh, burning, burning so bad. A sharp pain that turns into a wave of agony that I can’t hold back. I scream each time the knife goes in. Then I see Peter, my Peter, with blood on his pale face.
He grabs my mother from behind and with all his strength tosses her out the door.
“Remember our game, Keri-bell? Play dead for me. Whoever does it the longest wins,” he whispers into my ear, giving me a hard kiss on my cheek.
No Peter! Something bad is going to happen—
* * *
“Karen, wake up.” The unfamiliar but familiar voice pulls me out of the nightmare that’s ripping through my brain. Memories from so long ago that I hope every day to forget.
“You,” I swallow the lump in my throat, I’ll be darned if this man sees me cry, “know that my name isn’t Karen.”
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Thanks for that stunning observation, Rime.” I sit up and barely give him a look, cringing at the foot of the bed. I’m amazed he didn’t sit on Zag whose head is out of his blanket nest and watching Rime carefully.
“Why are you in my room?” I ask him, turning around to get a drink out of the glass of water on the nightstand. I always keep water close at hand. These nightmares are more familiar than I like admitting.
“I came to ask you a question.”
“What?” Not that I’m in the mood for them but at least it’ll distract me from those horrific images. Catching myself rubbing the scar on my chest, I tuck my hand under my leg to keep me from doing it again.
“Can someone tamper with that book your friend gave me?”
“You know they can’t. You’re Fae, Rime—you should know the stories about those books.” Fighting the urge to look at him, I stare at the glass of water in my hands, at the film of frost forming on the top of it.
“Unlike you, I didn’t grow up in luxury.”
I laugh, luxury? “I grew up in the Dark Forgetful Forest with the Sluagh, it’s not what I’d call luxury.”
“Oh, well… I didn’t know that, did I?”
“You know, I didn’t ask for this anymore than you did. It’s not my fault that your life isn’t what you wanted it to be or whatever, as welcome as you are to stay here, you and her—you can’t treat people like shit. Especially me. Understand?” I look over at him this time. His eyes are on me, looking at me like I’m something he hates and wants at the same time.
I wonder if I ever looked at Ciar that way? After staring at him staring at me for a few seconds, I’m assuming I did.
“I grew up in an orphanage.” Yeah, I don’t like him but that hurt my heart a little. To me that word represents being alone because I was almost there growing up.
“Sorry.” And I am, but that doesn’t change anything I said.
“I don’t want to leave, in case that’s what you’re going to say.” Okay, that’s surprising.
“You can leave my room though, so I can go back to sleep.” He sits there staring for a bit, before standing up and walking out without a backward glance. Him and I won’t be doing any secret best-friend handshakes any time soon but we made it through that entire conversation without saying something rude to one another.
That’s a win. Crawling back under the covers I flip around until I find that sweet spot.
When sleep finally claims me again it’s to the gentle music of a violin.