Page 5 of Bonds of Blood
I stood as still as a statue, unsure of what to do or say.
Baylor Wilde opened his mouth, his voice leaving him in a choked sob. “Lochlann, my son. How you’ve grown.”
I did not approach him. I couldn’t. How could I? My own father disappeared on me for years, leaving me with nothing but hurt and betrayal. And now that I knew the truth of what had happened to my mother — well, how was he expecting me to react?
And yet something softened within me as I watched the two of them embrace. The black of his eyes grew even darker as his tears fell. My heart clenched. Father never cried. Those tears could very well have been forced, practiced pantomime.
But my mother turned over her shoulder, her cheeks stained with tears. When she spoke, her words came between pinched sobs and delirious, relieved laughter. “Locke. It’s your father. Come and say hello to your father.”
For her. I would do it for her, and not for his sake. I stepped toward them carefully. My father extended his hand, his tears flowing faster when he showed me a weak, small smile, running in grooves down the newly etched lines of his face.
I didn’t recognize those lines, not from the massive painting of him that hung in the Wispwood library, and not from my memories. Had it really been so long since I’d seen him? Were these wrinkles new? He looked so tired. So different. Could he really be a changed man?
He grabbed for my shoulder as soon as I came within reach, pulling me in for a hug. Something inside of me burst. I hadn’t seen him in so many years, but I hadn’t felt his embrace in far, far longer. I buried my face in my father’s shoulder, relieved, angry, and embarrassed, all at the same time.
I pushed my face deeper into his body, hiding my tears from the dozens of eyes watching within the courtyard. He laughed in between his tears, his strong hand stroking my back. And there I stood, between the stiffness of my father’s body and the softness of my mother’s touch.
There was a quiet, soft sniffling in the air behind me. Satchel. I’d totally forgotten about him. I pulled gently away from our huddle, wiping at my eyes and trying to make space for my familiar. Mom did the same, her arm still wrapped around Father’s waist, her gaze flitting between him and Satchel expectantly.
Without hesitation Father reached his hand out and beckoned. “Little Satchel. How long has it been? Come closer. Let me see you.”
Satchel dragged his entire forearm across his face, sniffling even harder. I knew for a fact that he still had his parents, but in many ways, Baylor Wilde was as much a father to him as he was to me. He only fluttered close enough until he was at arm’s length, still hesitant, still shy, despite his steadily flowing tears. I remembered the implications of his stories, how Baylor Wilde had supposedly never been as kind to him as I was.
But again Father didn’t hesitate. Seeing that Satchel wouldn’t alight on his hand, he raised his arm, offering his outstretched palm as a platform. Satchel gasped, broke into another series of sobs, and fell fully into Father’s palm, effectively turning his hand into a pixie’s version of a fainting couch.
The smile, the sweetness on Father’s face — gods above and below, who was this man? He pulled his hand toward his chest, eyes gazing fondly upon Satchel as he whispered. “It’s so good to see you again, little one. Thank you for taking care of Lochlann while I was away.”
As if Satchel couldn’t bawl any harder. I felt something clenching at my throat, but instead of escaping as a sob, it came out as a laugh of pure relief. We still had so much more to unpack between us, but this new, warm behavior of Father’s was more than enough for me, at least for the moment.
Deep inside my chest, a tight knot untangled itself, a weight lifting off my shoulders. I remembered what Evander Skink had once told me about my mother, how I should have celebrated her return instead of focusing on the how and why of her absence. This was my second chance with my mother, to reclaim what I thought I’d lost, to rebuild our relationship.
I started when I looked up. Evander was right there watching us from the balcony of the second level. His expression was neutral, but he gave me a single nod, as if to remind me of what we’d discussed. A second chance. Maybe this was my second chance with Father, too.
Not long after, the four of us found ourselves at one of the many cafés sprinkled around the castle. Several of these slightly anachronistic businesses had popped up throughout the Wispwood. Multiple cafés, pastry shops, and even a few pizza places, too, designed to serve the student body the same way they might at an Earth college.
The aforementioned student body had crammed itself into the seats at the surrounding tables, the others left to stand on the periphery and gawk as they observed the presence of a living legend. This must have been how celebrities felt — their sons, at least, an initial appreciation of all the attention, followed by the uncomfortable wriggling under the spotlight of public scrutiny.
Father had somehow dodged any extensive conversations with faculty, or other members of staff, or even the headmasters themselves. I could hardly believe it. He was actually here to see us, to prioritize his own family, for once.
Mom, Father, and I sat at our own little table, a tea for her, a black coffee for him, and the biggest thing of ice-blended caramel or whatever for me. As if I needed all that sugar and caffeine amid all the excitement. Satchel, meanwhile, had yet to order a drink, which was especially interesting because he was definitely going to need to rehydrate in a minute.
Poor thing was too busy blubbering, despondent as he cried out more than his bodyweight in tears on Father’s shoulder. I was almost as shocked as Satchel when Baylor set him down there in the first place. Father had never been very affectionate with either of us, something I knew from comparing stories with Satchel.
All the softness I’d seen in him had only ever been directed toward my mother. But even now I could see that he’d grown kinder, sweeter. I couldn’t remember what it was that I’d interrupted in the conversation between Baylor and Marina, but I blurted it out thoughtlessly, anyway.
“It’s like you’re a completely different person.”
Mom pursed her lips curiously, as if she couldn’t decide whether to scold me or laugh out loud. Father blinked and burst out laughing. Something that I hadn’t heard in forever: the sound of Baylor Wilde genuinely happy.
“I’ve had some time to think in all my years away, my son, and I do believe that there are many aspects of myself that could use improvement. My arcane education at the Wispwood ended long ago, but it is a fool who accepts that all learning ends in school. I confess. Yes. I could have treated you with more kindness.”
He lifted a hand to his shoulder, stroking the top of Satchel’s head with the tip of his finger. Satchel’s hands flew to his mouth, his shoulders trembling as he stifled another impassioned sob.
“I could have treated all of you better. There is no excuse for all the silence and distance I’ve given you since my disappearance. But I can promise you now that I will do my best to be a better father and husband. My best to be a better man.”
“And not a better master?” Satchel asked. “What happens now that you’re back? I’m happy that you’re here, Grand Summoner Baylor. But now my loyalty is to Locke, and — oh, I don’t know. I’m so confused.”
Baylor chuckled and shook his head. “No, little one. Even from looking I can see that the two of you have forged a stronger alliance than I could have thought possible. You have both done well with each other, and I think it best for you to continue to nurture this bond. I left you behind as part of Locke’s inheritance for a reason. I apologize if it caused you hurt in the moment.”
