Page 18 of Changeling
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine.”
That sorted, I leave.
* * *
The great Danube Riverlicks quietly against its banks, soothing my nerves. The sound of the ripples reminds me of the sea, though the river is peaceful, whereas the Mediterranean can sometimes be wild against the shore.
Water calls to me, like a whisper against the shell of my ear, offering its power. Not that I’d know how to use it. Or what to use it for. It’s the same with the earth beneath my feet.Use me, it says.I will obey.Obey what?
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Energy gathers at my fingertips, alive and fizzing. Exhaling slowly, I ask it to teach me.
What should I do? What do you want?
The air around me cools, full of potential if I only knew how to access it. Without any direction, my thoughts turn to my missing wings. The vampires who saved me from a mob of bloodthirsty humans shared what little they knew of faeries. They spoke of gossamer wings highlighted in pale pastels, vibrant jewel tones, and earthen browns and greens. What color were mine supposed to be?
Behind my closed eyelids, they’re clear as glass, reflecting moonlight like the surface of the river itself.
The vampires also spoke of shimmering skin full of light, as if surrounded by a heavenly halo. Ears tipped with points, shining hair to match the wings, and long fingernails opalescent like the surface of a pearl.
As I imagine myself with these traits, the magic swirls around me, caressing my skin and gathering between my shoulder blades. But no matter how much I want something to happen, nothing does. No wings sprout from my back. My skin is the same pinkish-pale as always. My nails are short and stubby, where I’ve bitten them to nubs.
Still, the dense, pregnant air remains heavy with possibility. Frustrated, I clench my fists, then loosen them and let go. I send it back to the water, back to the earth, back to where it came from. It’s useless to me as I am now, with no one to teach me.
Alone.
I lie back on the ground and gaze up at the stars. Thousands of twinkling specks light up the clear night sky.
My thoughts threaten to turn dismal. I’ve learned to sense them coming and also to force them aside. I refuse to think of the fire or my failure. I won’t get caught up in memories of running and hiding for my life. No good comes from remembering.
Instead, I steer my focus to the future. The Dozen. Vampires who house faeries and halflings within their midst. Ivaz gave me a name. Remigius. A chatty sort, Ivaz said. With magic, like me. At the time, I didn’t think to ask if Remigius is also a faerie, but I hope so. Perhaps he’ll know how to get my wings back.
It bothers me that Dominus has magic of his own but won’t speak of it. How am I to learn? Ah, but he owes me nothing, so my hopes are all unfair to him.
When I’ve had enough of my own company, which happens quickly these days, I head back to The Twig. It’s far too late to pick up any bribes for Leonas—shops are closed by now—but I hope he’ll talk to me anyway.
The city sleeps, eerily quiet. I walk carefully, keeping my footsteps silent along the cobbles. This route leads past private dwellings, small homes of wood and stone, with smoke curling out the chimneys. I count the side streets along the way. My turn is at the fourth one. A winding road takes me to the alley where stands The Twig.
I look at the house above the entryway that leads to the stairs—a large home of sturdy wood planks. I’m tempted to peek inside a window, but I don’t. It’s not like me to be so nosy.
I head downstairs into the wine cellar, hoping to find Leonas alone.
But instead of Leonas, a woman sits perched upon the stool, her feet upon the highest rung. “Hello, darling,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “You must be Sebastian.”
It’s unnerving when someone knows who you are, but you don’t know them. Dominus said he only told Leonas about me, but if she knows my name, does she know my heritage as well? It’s not like I can ask.
I offer a polite bow and a tentative smile. “Yes, milady. You have me at a loss because I don’t know your name.”
She grins. “It’s been a while since anyone called me a lady.” She extends her hand. “I’m Danya.”
I take her fingers and place an air kiss above them. “My pleasure, Danya.”
“I work at The Pearl. You should come visit sometime.”
Ah, apparently Dominus hasn’t told her everything. If he’d mentioned I’m not supposed to speak with staff or guests, he’d have to tell her why, wouldn’t he? So she doesn’t know.
“Is it much different from The Twig?” This earns me a chuckle.
