Page 35 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“Well, it’s not just men,” Aislinn clarified. “Most faeries are rather fluid in that regard, although they tend to have preferences. Beau doesn’t. He likes everyone. Usually very easily. It… doesn’t often come to much, but the admiration is real. He hasn’t had a single partner that’s like the next.”
“And… you?”
“What of me?”
“Where do your preferences lie?”
Aislinn went quiet for a moment. “I’ve dabbled here and there, but my preference is largely men.”
“Right. Just curious.”
For a while longer, they worked on the wargis, carefully, silently, Aislinn enjoying her newly healed body. It occurred to her, if she went home tomorrow, she’d likely never see such beautiful creatures again. Avalinth remained hidden to outsiders. She’d never stroke their fur or bury her face in their necks—
She’d never see Caerwyn again, either.
That thought bothered her more than it should, and she did not like it.
“I still have one issue,” she remembered, thinking of the promise she’d made to Owen. “I told your stepfather I’d bring you back. Promised, even. I also promised not to drag you back against your will. I didn’t give a time frame, luckily—”
Caerwyn laughed. “So, at some point in my life, you’ll have to hunt me down and do some exceptional convincing?”
“I suppose so,” she said.
“What were the exact words you used?”
“Um, I believe they were, ‘if your son is alive, I will bring him home to you.’”
“Well, that’s easily averted,” Caer said. “Since I am not biologically Owen’s son, and I no longer count Afelcarreg as my home.”
“Oh,” said Aislinn, mostly relieved and still slightly disappointed. “I suppose that’s right. What a useful distinction. Many lies have opened up to me.”
“Is that it? Crisis averted? Vow null and void?”
“I believe so, which is actually all that is required.”
Caer snorted. Aislinn went to clean out the brushes, parting the bristles with magic when the usual method failed her.
“How does magic work?” Caerwyn asked. “The way your brother uses it—”
Aislinn sighed, putting the brushes back and pulling on the end of one of her braids. She wondered if he’d noticed already how gifted Beau was with magic, and how much she wasn’t. Even parting the bristles was fiddly and taxing. “All fae are capable of magic,” she explained, “but for some it’s much harder to wield. We have this extra well of energy we can draw on, but whenever we’re sick or injured, it’s muted—all your energy taken up trying to heal. Magic comes very naturally to some, wielded as easily as a third arm, but to others…”
“To you, you mean?”
Aislinn bowed her head. “I can dosomemagic,” she said. “The relatively simple spells… mild telekinesis, fire… just not much of it.” She avoided his gaze. “I know. A poor faerie queen, right?”
“I wouldn’t say so.” He paused. “What about mortals? Can they have any access to magic?”
Aislinn nodded, eager to be done with the conversation ofherpoor attempts at magic. “Sure. They don’t have a natural well of energy, but they can draw on other things—potions or charms,maybethe natural world around them, if they’re particularly talented. Usually not active magic though—the kind you can see.”
“Have you ever heard of mortals being born with powers?”
“More likely to be cursed,” Aislinn followed. “But sometimes, yes. Usually it means faerie ancestry. Maybe born on a special day under a special star.”
Caer blinked. “That can give a mortal powers?”
“On very, very rare occasions, sure. I’m no astronomer.”
“I see.” He ceased his brushing of Bob, fingers playing with his fur. She didn’t know why he didn’t remove his gloves, but when the warm leather brushed over her hands, she found she ceased to care. “I should probably say goodbye, or thank you, or something.”
