Page 37 of The Demon's Discovery
“What is that ring you’re wearing?” Magnus asked.
Greta’s eyes darted around the table, her hands folding into her lap. “A suitor’s token,” she said simply.
“It appears to be enchanted,” I added. “It isn’t removable.”
“What?” Grace screeched, her silverware clattering against the table. “That’s possible?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumbled, noticing the embarrassed flush in Greta’s cheeks. “We’re working on a solution for that.”
“I’d hope so. We’ve some strong metal cutters at the foundry. I’m sure Imogen would be happy to cut it off for you.”
“Thanks,” Greta bobbed her head. “Maybe we’ll try that soon.”
“Anyhow, how often do you stone sleep?” Magnus asked. Greta just stared at him. “Stone sleep,” he said again, as though the repetition would spur her into speech.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.” Her voice was quiet, edged with shame. I braced, hating that she felt badly about something she had no control over.
His face turned a concerning shade of red as he held his breath against whatever it was that he truly wanted to say, then blustered through whatever had angered him, hands flailing as he ranted under his breath. “You are thirty years of age?” he confirmed.
“Yes, as far as I know. I celebrate my birthday in May.”
“I’m sure there’s a record. We can verify the date is the same,” he said, thoughtful. “As I recall, that’s correct, though. Rowan brought you to the circle for blessings around Beltane when you were brand-new. You don’t recall your mother going into stone sleep?”
Her cheeks reddened as she shook her head, and I stiffened in response. Her voice was quiet, edged with shame. “I don’t remember much, though. My memories are just a smile here, the way my mother’s voice sounded there… I was very little when…”
Magnus softened. “Apologies, Greta. It is not your fault, but for a stone kin youth to not learn how to stone sleep… I can’t imagine the troubles that might arise without doing so for such a prolonged period of time. It may explain your ailments.” Grace rose to clear our empty plates, and Magnus reached across the table, covering her hand with his own. “I know you’ve been without her far too long. You were just a baby, really. One of us should’ve been called in to help you, instead…” He trailed off and visibly shook himself. “Alright, we’ll have to start at the beginning then, yes?”
We’d been shooedout into the grassy area of the yard by Grace, who said she had to wash the dishes and finish preparing our dessert.
“Shall we all have a little stretch?” Magnus loosened the side lacings on his trousers and shirt, then reached his arms above his head. As he brought them down, he shifted into his stone form. He gained several inches in height and width, especially with his bony spear-tipped wings stretched out wide. His olive skin turned greenish gray, his mouth held massive tusk-like fangs, and his feet became lion’s paws.
Greta looked on in awe. Impulsively, I shifted as well, trying to make her feel comfortable enough to follow our lead while at the same time revealing my true nature. The more she sawit without adverse reaction, the more I’d believe that she truly wasn’t afraid.
“White feathers?” she teased, though her tone still held an edge of tension. My heart leapt in my chest, regardless. “How did you manage that? I thought those were reserved for?—”
“I’m no angel,” I confirmed, smiling through my fangs. “Not anymore.”
“Yes, yes. He’s a very lucky devil to have retained such pretty features and all that.” Magnus rolled his eyes but winked at Greta, clearly also interested in putting her at ease. “Can you show us your beautiful wings, little niece? As I recall, they were some of the most unique our kind has ever been gifted.”
“Aw, Magnus. You think I’m pretty?” I teased, batting my eyelashes, fingers delicately touching my chest.
“For the love of saints, demon. That’s not what I said.”
“But you’re not denying it.” I smiled wide, loving the way I got under his skin.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Greta?”
“I don’t have wings.” Her body was stiff, her voice low as though she were embarrassed to admit such a thing.
Magnus boomed a laugh as he folded his wings down and strode closer to her. “Of course you do, I’ve seen them. You were just a babe, but I remember them quite well.”
Greta’s expression morphed several times, from confusion to relief to sadness. Then, she pulled herself together as I watched. It was a truly magical process. Her back straightened, and a calm expression slipped over her features. She once again wore the unbothered mask I thought she’d left behind at Henrik’s house. I hated it, but I understood more than most why she needed it. If she got excited about something like wings, only to be disappointed, it might break her spirit altogether.
Magnus shrank back to human form, and I did the same, tucking my wings away and relaxing my fangs. “Don’t benervous.” He smiled, nodding gently in encouragement. “Just try. They’re in there, you just need to will them to come out.” Greta closed her eyes, focusing. “Think of the wind. What it feels like when you float in water—the air is much the same.” Magnus encouraged.
She reached up and rubbed at the spot on her left shoulder that always seemed to bother her. “I get an itchy sensation, but there’s nothing else,” she said. “Sometimes it’s more like a burn, but I’ve never had wings that I can remember. I’ve never shifted either, I have no stone form.”
Magnus frowned again. “You used to, at the very least. I’ve seen both. Try again.”
