Page 76 of The Source of Storms

He didn’t miss a beat. “There is an order to things here, and I will not allow this.”

“Yes, you will,” I said, forcing more confidence into my voice than I felt. “You have kept this secret long enough. It’s time to face the truth. Don’t do this to Noirin. Don’t do to her what you did to me. Don’t lose her too.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Lose her? Stop being so dramatic,” he began, but I had no patience for it, even though standing up to him struck me with such fear I felt nauseous.

I ignored him and turned to my mother. “Show her. Show her like you showed me.” I was trembling with anger and nerves. Byrgir put a steadying hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

“Halja, I don’t think she’s ready for that,” she said.

“I want to know,” Noirin said from behind me. “Whatever she knows I want to know too.”

My mother’s visage shimmered, and her own glamour dropped. I hadn’t even thought to ask, but of course she used it too. Her face changed very little, still the black eyes and sharp beauty I had always known, only now with the addition of pointed ears. Shorter than mine, but still conspicuous.

She waved a hand at Noirin, and her glamour dissolved. Her face became more like our mother’s, a little sharper, even more beautiful than she already was. And out from under her long brown hair poked short, gracefully pointed ears.

“What are you staring at?” Noirin said to us all. My mother walked out of the kitchen and returned with her hand mirror. She passed it to Noirin, who looked at her reflection and gasped. She flushed red, then drained to pale.

“Oh gods,” she whispered. “Oh gods…”

“I should have told you long ago, Noirin, but I’m fae. A selkie, specifically.”

Under his breath, my father grumbled, “Going to ruin their lives with this nonsense.” I glared at him.

“So I’m half fae?” Noirin asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“And Father isn’t your father?” she asked me.

“No, he’s not. My father is an Archfae in the Fiadhain.”

“The Fiadhain?” Her eyes were wide, her brow peaked in confusion.

“The other side of the Veil,” our mother said.

“I know what it is but… How could this happen?” Noirin said.

I had no further explanation for her. I hugged her, pulling her in close and supporting her weight. She wrapped an arm around me. I walked her to a chair at the table and helped her sit, then sat in front of her and put one hand on her knee.

My mother let out a long sigh and took a seat at the table across from Noirin. My father scoffed and stared at us all with a look of deep disgust. The hatred in his eyes crushed me. I glared back at him and stood, positioning myself between him and the table where my mother and sister sat. Byrgir stepped up beside me, tall, imposing, and confident. I knew only an inkling of the power I had, knew what spells I could sling, knew now that a wellspring of Archfae ability lurked beneath my very skin. But nothing could reduce me to a grain of sand like that withering look from my father. Byrgir’s imposing size and steadfast loyalty buoyed me. I may have had more strength than I thought, but knowing I had his too was a relief.

“You’re all fools!” my father raged. “And your fae tricks will ruin this family!” He turned to leave, but I called after him.

“Father, wait!”

He hesitated and turned to face the wall, not me directly, hands on his hips. He heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing out the words I had prepared, although I did not feel the sincerity of them in that moment. “For raising me as your own. Even though you never really wanted to. Even though things became complicated. You gave me a childhood and a safe place to live. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

A long pause. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, then said, “I wanted to raise you, Halja. It was a joy having you kids. No matter where you came from.” He lingered in the doorway of the kitchen as Byrgir slipped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently. “I was just… I was just scared. Of what you were, and what that would mean. Of the hard life it meant you would live. I wanted to keep you safe.”

“You did, Father,” I said. “You did.”

My mother broke the silence that followed and recounted her story to Noirin. It was an abridged version, only the necessary details of her affair with Fenodyr, no embellishment of her past life with him. More about her lineage as a selkie, about how those traits now lived in Noirin. The story was too much for my father, despite her whitewashing of the details, and he left the house, slamming the door behind him.

As my mother spoke and Noirin asked questions, Byrgir and I continued to prepare dinner. I pulled bread from the oven and we finished making the stew. We served it in steaming bowls, hunks of butter on warm bread and mugs of mead. It felt odd, moving around this once familiar kitchen now. I had become a stranger in my own childhood home.

We ate quietly as they talked until, at last, quiet fell over the table.

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