Page 13 of The Fae Lord

“Alana,” she whispers, “how is Kayan today?”

My lips curl into a smile.

Samuel scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Those two will be wed before the year’s out. Trust me,” he says.

My mother tuts. “They are too young for that,” she says. “No Leafborne marries before their second centennial.”

“Those two will,” Samuel says, standing up and stretching his wings in front of the fire. As he does, the flames crackle. He has the power to manipulate fire. A power inherited from our grandparents, and he loves to tease Kayan with it.

The two of them have been rivals since as long as I can remember. Friends but also enemies, they love to wind each other up. Love to compete.

Samuel lights a fire, Kayan extinguishes it.

Kayan fills a vase with crystal clear water, Samuel makes it boil so hot it evaporates.

All this time, they have never once gotten bored of teasing one another.

Sometimes, that makes me feel jealous. I cannot tease or play jokes with my powers. My powers are not coveted.

The ability to manipulate air, or fire, or water, or the seasons, or to converse with the animals... These are all things that others look at and say, Wow, if only I could do that too. Each one contains something that makes others jealous.

When people look at me, all they see is poison. An insidious gift that makes them feel like they should avoid me, stay away, keep me on the outskirts of the community.

My mother tries to make them include me.

But my father... He is perhaps the worst of them all. He does not trust me. I can tell in the way he looks at me, and in the way the air shimmers a dark, greyish blue when he is around me. He is constantly guarded, as if he doesn’t care to know me at all.

And I feel as though I do not know him either.

“Shall we go for a walk?” My mother finishes braiding my hair and stands up. She takes my hand and helps me to my feet. I’m wearing the emerald green dress she sewed for my birthday last year. It reaches down to the floor and hangs in soft folds that rustle gently as I move.

I nod, unsure why she wants to leave the cabin so late at night.

But when we are outside, she takes hold of my hand. She grasps it tightly. “Alana, there are whispers in the village. People are talking about making you leave the forest.”

My eyes widen and dread settles in my stomach. Leave? Where would I go?

“They intend to hold a vote. If it is successful, they will force you to leave. Go to the city.” She blinks quickly, trying to stop the tears that are swelling in her eyes. “I have been refused a vote. So has your father, and your brother.”

“Samuel knows about this?”

My mother shakes her head. “Not yet. He is going on his quest tomorrow. We didn’t want to tell him before he left.”

I shake my arms, trying to dislodge the tension that has settled inside them. I flex my fingers and pace away from her, bare feet meeting the cool soil, toes nestling in.

I have been to Luminael only once before, and I hated it. I cannot live there. It is too crowded. There are too many of them; too many thoughts, and feelings, and people, and noise. It would drive me to an early grave.

“Mother, what can I do?”

“Show them that you can control yourself.” she says softly. “Change the way you talk to them, the way you are when you’re around them.”

I tilt my head, her fear and worry overwhelming me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“That...” She clasps my face and stares into my eyes. “Exactly that, Alana. When you are reading my emotions, I can tell. Your face changes, you blink strangely, and your voice becomes vacant. Like you’re not really there. You need to stop. You need to make them think you’re no longer doing it, even if you are. You need to hide what you are. Otherwise, they will make you leave.” Her voice is urgent now, higher pitched. Her eyes sparkle, wide and scared, in the dim evening light of the forest. She grabs hold of my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Please, Alana. Please promise me you’ll try.”

I swallow hard, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “All right, I’ll try.”

She leaves me like that. Walking back to the cabin, telling me she’ll give me a moment to compose myself because Samuel must never know. Not before he leaves.

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