Page 21 of Wishing Upon a Monster
“So, what you are saying, sir, is Aurora’s name was abbreviated? What has this to do with what happened here today?” Olan asked more respectfully than I expected.
It’s not that I thought he would be rude, but well... he did almost Dark Lord level murder everyone in the ECCM. He was giving my father a deference he hadn’t given anyone else because... he was my father?
“I checked it myself, but yes, they had that A. Aurum was expected at two in the afternoon. No note that they were going to Talentless Registration, which would have given someone a clue to adjust the wards like we usually do when such individuals are to arrive. Seeing our name, they assumed it was one of your siblings.” He took a deep breath and then stepped forward, bowing low to me and my husband. “I am so sorry, my dear, that you were harmed.”
I blinked. My parents weren’t evil by any stretch of imagination, though perhaps a little overwhelmed by children, a lot entitled, and, in my teenage years, I would have screamed neglectful. My lack of magic had made me much less of a priority than my siblings, who could participate in what our society offered gifted youths. I wasn’t much for what little programs there were for the Talentless, and so I often was left to my own devices. I didn't hate my parents, but they frequently disappointed me. To have one of them apologize for anything was shocking, to say the least.
And perhaps had a bit to do with my powerful husband.
“I won't say it's alright; your people need to do better. Would you be as sorry if it were any other Talentless?” I said bravely. I felt Olan’s approval radiating through our bond.
My father straightened, his expression professional but tinged with sadness. “I would not personally come and apologize,no. Someone would have apologized to whomever it was, though, because that sort of oversight is unconscionable. I assure you, this was not some sort of plot against you or a way to test your husband’s abilities.”
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks because I had assumed just that.
My father nodded in approval of where my mind had gone. “It was, however, everything they needed for the testing portion of the interview, and Brøndmands have now been classified as godlike beings. If Olan ever feels more inclined to further our knowledge of his brethren––”
“No,” Olan said, his tone firm as steel.
“I suspected as much,” my father continued, “then we have a basis to record his existence and that of his people, and that be the end of that, until you have children."
“Min skat, do not worry about things we have not discussed,” Olan whispered in my mind. “Even if you do bless us with children, we do not have to comply with any of this institution's demands. You live on the preserve and are protected as an employee of the Nyxian Council. I am also to be under the protection of the preserve. We have many options.”
I nodded, and I was sure Dad thought I was agreeing with him. He didn't need to know any more than what they had already learned about Olan and our bond.
“I would stay and talk some more, but I have to help reestablish some of the trickier wards. I would like to formally invite Olan and remind you, Aurora, about our annual Summer Solstice get-together before I go. You know your mother would love for y’all to be in attendance,” he said breezily, as if he hadn’t come in hollering like a banshee not even ten minutes ago.
“I’ll speak to Olan and check our schedules and get back to Momma about it,” I said, not sure if I wanted to accept theinvitation now that I was bound to Olan. What if we figure out how to discharge the life debt before then? What if we don’t, and he still decides he made a mistake with me, and I have to go alone?
Though I guess that wouldn’t be any different than how it was back when I was dating Kenton.
Olan nodded again before scooping me up. I looked down at my father, the feeling a bit surreal.
“If that’s all, we are well past our appointed time, and I wish to return home.” Olan strode forward past my father and Council Enforcer St. James. “It is dark enough, we do not need an escort.”
My father said something, but Olan continued walking, somehow remembering the way we came. Every hallway we turned down that had people in it would suddenly go quiet. I didn’t think they were afraid of Olan, exactly, but they were at least wary, and I wasn’t sure that was a bad thing.
“How are we getting back to Ignesious Avenue? It is not far from here, but...” I trailed off as we exited the building into a rainy, soggy mess of a late afternoon.
“My shadows will protect us from the elements, and we will, of course, fly.”
“Of course,” I teased, earning me a squeeze on my thigh before we were covered in shadows, and he lifted us into the dreary sky.
I satin my office looking out the window over my backyard at my new well. Our new well... Our backyard. Olan was at my desk watching MagiTube. He had questions, ones maybe he hadn’t felt comfortable voicing before the fiasco at theECCM.
I pulled up a video on the Lost for him. The Lost were magical children born to seemingly nonmagical parents in nonmagical places. The widely accepted myth was that some of the Talentless had left our culture to live with nonmagical people, and through some miracle, a few hundred years later, the Goddess looked upon their descendants and granted them access to magic. Since in the past no one tracked who left our society and married outside our culture, many people accepted it as fact. This was a lie, of course, the real answer was that people did what they wanted. They had affairs. Magic Users slept with non-magical people, and things happened, and these children were the result. But because of this lie...
“This is why they make you register,min skat?” He sighed, the sound less harsh than it was a few days ago.
“Yes, they’ve bought their own chimera shit. The magical elite started this propaganda in the nineties,” I replied, still looking out the window.
“To what end?” he asked, pushing away from my desk and standing beside my oversized recliner.
“I think they wanted a reason to track us so that they could shame us into not having children. I think they think we are a blight, and if we are left to live out solitary lives and die without procreating, that eventually they will eliminate the genetic quirk that creates the Talentless. Or it could be the complete opposite. They could be studying us and our offspring to see if they can ‘cure’ us of this affliction, somehow breed it out of us,” I said, pulling my knees up to my chin.
Olan took it upon himself to scoop me up and sit back down with me in his lap, my back resting against the arm of the chair and my legs across his lap.
“You seem to have a thing against personal space,” I said ruefully.
