Page 124 of A Wolf in the Garden

“It’s fine,” Lylia says, touching my elbow. I haven’t seen her without the glamour since she helped me place the fae ward, but she drops it now, her appearance changing in an instant. She’s just as beautiful in either form, but it’s such a contrast from how she looked a moment ago that it’s still a little shocking.

“Your eyes aren’t glowing,” I blurt out, regretting it immediately since it’s not really that tactful. Her eyes are still bright green — the colour of fresh moss — but they don’t shine like they did the other evening.

“They glow when I’m actively using magic beyond a certain level. The same as you.”

“Would my ancestors have looked like you? I’m sorry if that’s a rude question, I’m just curious.”

Her smile is wry. “Trust me, when it comes to my appearance, I’ve experienced rude, and that’s not it. Besides, it’s completely natural to have questions about your own bloodline. And yes, they would have looked like this. They might still look like this — they mightstillbe alive, you never know.” She lifts a hand in front of her face, turning it back and forth, her dark blue claws looking sharp. “It’s been nice to be able to drop the glamour here, even just for a short while. Usually only the mirror in my chambers sees me like this.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Less than it used to, but still more than I’m willing to admit to most people. Our family — the Maheras — they very much care about appearances. And I don’t just mean my physical appearance, although that falls under it. They care about how we are perceived. So anyone that steps outside the norm, anyone that doesn’t quite fit in with the traditions — with the magic, with the endless hunger for power — those people know they are barely tolerated. Your mother-in-law is one such person, ever since she mated Weston. Me, on the other hand… as long as I keep the glamour up and play whatever role I am meant to at the time… I’m fine. Now, that brings me to my final question before I go: how are you?”

“Still a little scared,” I admit.

She nods, petals falling from her antlers. “Of course you are. It will fade in time. I know you can sense the ward around you now. Trust in it; it will not falter. They cannot get past that. They cannot get to your mind. If they could, I would have been their prisoner long ago.”

“That’s a good point.”

“There’s easier targets out there.” She lifts her eyes, looking at Van, who stands behind me. “To put it in business terms for Evander, your return on investment rate is far too poor to bother with, especially when you think about the thousands of unprotected changelings wandering about in this realm without any idea of the danger that they’re in.”

“Can’t something be done for them?”

“It’s in the works. Believe me, no one wants the fae gaining any more power. I think the fact that it happened so close to home — to the mate of a family member — is enough to move the needle in terms of the coven’s willingness to step into human spaces to prevent these things. But it’s not something for you to worry about, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good. Here, let me show you this. It’s time for me to go home. I know you’re not interested in this at the moment, but one day you may be.” She waves her hand, and beside us a wide circle of mushrooms grow from the ground, all glowing green. When I look back at her, her eyes shine with the same magic.

“A fairy circle,” I whisper.

“Exactly.” She steps back, waving to everyone. Floating in the air above the circle, a blue portal begins to form, a quiet tearing sound echoing around in the fog, as if a hundred people are ripping bits of paper all at once. I shudder at the sound and the feel of it; it’s like nails on a chalkboard, and I still find it really fucking creepy that there’s a hole in the universe, right in front of us.

Van’s hands land on my shoulders, squeezing gently, and he takes a step forward, until he’s flush against my back. It’s a small gesture, but I feel a lot better for it.

“I’ll see you in a few years!” Lylia calls, waving one last time, her icy blonde hair reflecting the blue of the portal beside her. Then she’s stepping through, disappearing, and a moment later the entire thing fades in on itself, the mushroom circle withering and turning to dust.

Everything is silent for a moment. I look up, meeting Van’s eye. “That’s it then?”

He nods. “That’s it. Done and dusted.”

* * *

Mum

Koro thinks it’s a brilliant idea. He’s looking forward to the helicopter. And it will be a load off me to not have to worry about getting ready for Xmas if you’re taking care of it.

You sure? I don’t want to be a pain.

You’re not being a pain. Did you forget it was my idea lol? Your Koro has never been in the air before. I think it’s amazing if Van can organise it for us.

Perfect. I just checked with Van, everything is tentatively booked for you to fly down on the 23rd. He’s going to confirm it right now.

Thanks bubs. Love you. Xx

Love you too xx

Iset the phone down and relax against the back of the couch, closing my eyes and enjoying the afternoon sun as I listen to the deep timbre of Van’s voice as he confirms helicopter flights and the accommodation booking for Mum and Koro. It wasn’treallyMum’s idea that they come down this way for Christmas — we’d been chatting on the phone and I’d hinted at it to test the waters of how she’d feel breaking tradition. I’ve never not had a Christmas at Bluewater Bay, but after everything that’s happened recently, I really think Van and I need a decent break from emotional turmoil before we go up north. It’s going to be hard for him when we do go sometime in the new year. It’s still hard for me every time I’m up there, which is why I don’t go that often. I can’t look at the northern cliff where the Livingston mansion used to be — the new owner demolished the old house and built a new one in its place — without feeling that incredibly heavy grief.

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