Page 3 of Forbidden Obsession
I could feel sorry for myself. Sometimes I do. No mother. A harsh father. But mostly I’m glad Ihavea father, even if he doesn’t like me all that much. Fae babies who lose both parents to dormancy are rumored to be claimed by the Gatekeeper. I repress a shiver. Any fate is better than that.
The dull but ever-present yearning stirs in my belly. Will Mother ever wake? What is she like? Is her skin a pale pink like mine, or does hers have the olive luster of Father’s? He refuses to speak of her, so I’m left to wonder and to hold open a space in my heart for her when she wakes. With any luck, I’ll find out sooner than later, but dormancy is unpredictable. Some fae sleep only a handful of seasons, while others drowse on for hundreds of cycles. Such is the price of near immortality.
Dwelling on her used to make me miserable. Tears flowed easily when I was little and didn’t know better than to let my emotions show. But as the years pass, the melancholy has numbed to a dull ache, and even when I let myself wallow, the sadness isn’t so bad anymore.
I have Bessa, our maid, to cheer me up. She’s human and knows all the best recipes. She’s smart and kind and somehow navigates Father’s bad temper better than I do. I owe her for getting me out of one disaster after another. Bessa is the closest thing I have to a mother until mine wakes up, and I love her.
And I have Rahz, my best friend, even if he is mad at me half the time lately. I’m not sure what I’ve done to land so thoroughly on his bad side. Not that he really has one. Rahz might growl and bark at me, but he’d never bite. He’s gentle at heart. The others pick on him, but it’s just to see what he’ll do. He’s bigger than us, a half human mixling and all muscle. His skin reddens when he’s embarrassed or angry, and Vander likes to make sure he’s both. They’ve never gotten along.
At dusk, my friends begin to arrive. First the sisters, Salah and Lemon, giggling their thanks as Bessa offers them mugs of honeysuckle punch. Then Vander, with his usual sidekicks in tow, Basil and Petzyl, neither of whom was very kind to Rahz this afternoon. Jord, Cindra, and Nellie follow shortly thereafter. With the arrival of Bird, the gang’s all here, all except one.
I peer out the window. The moon is huge, fully round and glowing purple, with a hazy halo all the way around. It’s beautiful, but Rahz is nowhere in sight. My nerves itch under my skin.
Is he okay? Maybe he’s more upset about today than I thought. He said he would be here. How long until I race to his house to check on him? What will the others think?
But I shouldn’t have worried. He does come, late and last, and with a careful look on his face like he isn’t sure how he’ll be treated or if he’s even welcome.
My heart jolts. I want to bring his smile back, but Bessa does it for me. Ever thoughtful, she’s quick to put an apricot pastry in one of his hands and a mug of punch in the other.
Rahz's answering grin lights the room and sets a whole different kind of jitters stirring in my belly.
“There’s a good lad. Go on, then. The others are downstairs already.” She kisses his cheek and sends him toward me with a friendly swat to his rump.
I bump Rahz’s shoulder with mine. “Thanks for coming.”
He bumps me back. “Said I would,” he mumbles around a mouthful of pastry.
We always gather in the low room, a carved-out space built into the earth under the rest of the cottage. As a result, it’s cool, damp, and smells of wet rock, but best of all, my father usually ignores this room. It’s my space and serves as our lair for round moon parties.
As soon as we shuffle down the stairs, Vander starts in on Rahz. “Get out the betting chips. We’re going to play knucklebones. Think you can manage without cheating?”
Rahz balks on the bottom step, his gaze flitting to a giggling Salah and Lemon. But they aren’t paying attention to Vander, and their laughter isn’t at Rahz’s expense, though he doesn’t seem to know that. The girls are looking at each other, whispering secrets between themselves. Who knows what they thought was funny?
I missed an earlier chance to stand up for him, and I’m not about to let this one slip away. “Shut up. We all knowyou’rethe one who cheats at knucklebones.”
Heads snap in our direction, the others eager to witness a squabble.
Vander scowls. “Do not.”
Ignoring him, I grab Rahz’s elbow and tug him to where the girls sit on floor cushions, sharing their snacks between them. Sometimes I wish I could get away with not inviting Vander, but Father says it’s everyone or no one. That’s what’s fair.
We plop onto a worn cushion together. The velvet used to be a vivid emerald green, but the fabric is faded and dusty now, the seams fraying around the gold corded edges.
Rahz folds himself up nearly as small as me. How does he do that with those long limbs of his? He’s going to be a big man someday. Tall, broad, strong. Not like me. I’ll be lucky to grow half his size. Jealousy curls in my belly, but it’s not the mean kind. I’m glad for him. He’ll be handsome. Sought after. Good for him.
As I get older, the desire to belikeRahz is getting confused with the desire to bewithRahz. To have him for myself. But we’re just friends, and he doesn’t think of me that way. I doubt he thinks of anyone that way. And if he does, he won’t talk about it. I’ve nursed a little crush on him for as long as I can remember, but when I ask who he likes, he only blushes and refuses to say.
So I haven’t told him.
Maybe I never will.
Vander’s voice rises above the others. “We need new knucklebones. These are too old. They’re worn on the flat side and don’t roll properly anymore.”
Petzyl shrugs. “They’ll have to do.”
“Or”—a crazed glint lights Vander’s yellow eyes—“we could slaughter one of the neighbor’s sheep. Get us a brand-new set.”
My stomach drops. I know where knucklebones come from, but it’s never occurred to me to kill a sheep to obtain a fresh set. As Vander’s gaze settles on me, a gagging sensation tightens my throat.
