Page 17 of Tempting the Fae Lord
“What was the other baby like? The one you swapped me for.”
That will do. “A bit older than usual. Quiet. Full of magic. I bespell them, you know? To blend in, to suppress their abilities, to be comfortable living as humans in the earthly realm.”
“I didn’t know.” His stare doesn’t seem to hold judgment, but I brace myself for it nonetheless. “Makes sense. Can’t have babies flying around and casting enchantments on the humans of the other side.”
“Exactly. It’s for their own safety. Humans with magic attract suspicion. Some have met terrible fates as a result. It took a great deal more effort to glamour that one’s fae nature than usual.”
“What’s he doing now, I wonder.”
Living the life meant for you.
I can no longer hold his gaze, so I study the tattered quilt, pink threads coming loose around the edges. “I don’t keep close track of them, the fae-souled, but they’ll be there always, born again and again. Ready if I need them.”
“Reincarnated?”
“Something like it, yes. Fae-souls never truly die.”
“Unlike humans.”
“Unlike humans.” I think of my cemetery, full of the bones of those who’ve lived and left. A dull ache blooms in my chest.Made from clay and to clay they shall return. I feel the ghost of dirt under my fingernails and shudder. One night it will ha?—
“Why me?” Gale’s voice cuts through my melancholy. “Why my family?”
I sigh.
This question holds much weight for Gale, yet very little for me. At the time, he was convenient, his family was convenient, the weather was poor, and I was in a hurry. But I can’t tell him that. Mere coincidence isn’t the answer he’s searching for.
“Even I dare not question fate. You were the one, my dear. How could I not have chosen you if such a destiny was meant to be?”
It’s not a lie, but it’s perhaps more than I really believe. Fate. Destiny. What have they to offer but daydreams?
One thing I know about Gale, he values dreaming, so to give him a new dash of the stuff is a boon I can offer easily enough.
“How did you do it? Tell me everything.”
I gesture to the forgotten cup in his hands. “Drink that, and I will.”
He sips obediently. “It’s good. You may not drink cocoa yourself, but you know how to make it perfect.”
“Eulayla is a fine teacher. The trick is to heat the milk to the precise temperature before adding the cocoa. That and a sprinkle of cinnamon to liven it up.”
“Now you’re stalling. Please tell me about that night?”
There’s no ignoring the open vulnerability in his expression. No escaping his earnest desire to know. I take a breath.
“I shall do my best, though I’m not a natural weaver of stories.”
“Just tell the truth. No story.”
“As you wish.” I gesture to his cup, and he drinks. His cheeks are beginning to brighten back up. “The babe’s fae parents had met with grave misfortune. Not dormancy, as is the usual reasonI’m summoned, but death. Burned in a house fire in which only the infant survived. Terrible tragedy. As the village was deep in mourning and no suitable arrangement could be made, I took the babe to a home on the other side.”
“My home,” he says in a small voice that pains my soul.
“Yes.” No backing down from the harsh reality. “Your home. Your parents were doing well. Your father was a blacksmith with a well-stocked shop in a decent-sized town. The fae babe would live a good life there. Safe. Loved.”
“And me?”
“I should hope you feel safe and loved as well. You are, you know. Under my protection and loved deeply by both those who were here before you and those I brought after. Amaris looks at you as if you hung the very moon in the sky.”
