Page 43 of The Dark Elf's Found Family
And still that impossible familiarity resonates between us. Still her magic clings to mine like it's found something it's been searching for all her life.
Finally—blessedly—Rhea gasps.
The sound is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Her back arches as her lungs fill with air, and color floods back into her pale cheeks. Her eyes flutter open, violet irises bright with confusion and pain but gloriously, wonderfully alive.
"Mum?" she whispers, her voice hoarse but clear.
Brynn collapses beside the couch, sobbing as she gathers her daughter into her arms. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here. You're safe now."
I sit back on my heels, suddenly exhausted. The magic I poured into healing her has left me drained, but the relief flooding through me is worth every ounce of power I spent. She's alive. She's breathing. She's going to be fine.
But as I watch mother and daughter hold each other, as Nya throws herself into the embrace with tears streaming down her face, one question burns in my mind like a brand.
How is it possible that Rhea's magic feels so much like coming home?
23
BRYNN
Iwatch Ciaran's face as he lifts Rhea from the couch, his movements careful and deliberate despite the exhaustion etched in every line of his features. My daughter—my precious girl who was blue-lipped and still just minutes ago—nestles against his chest with complete trust, her small arms looping around his neck like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"I can carry her," I offer, my voice still rough from crying, but he shakes his head.
"I've got her."
The gentleness in his tone, the way he adjusts his grip to make sure she's comfortable, sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing through me. This man who barely knew us a month ago just saved my daughter's life. Used his own magic, risked his own strength, to pull her back from whatever edge she'd been teetering on.
"Mum, I'm sorry," Rhea whispers against Ciaran's shoulder as we make our way through the square. The festivities continue around us, but everything feels muted now, like we're walking through a dream. "We just wanted to make the cakes prettier."
"What do you mean, love?" I ask, falling into step beside them. Nya walks close to Ciaran's other side, her small hand resting on his arm like she needs the physical connection to feel safe.
"The flowers," Nya pipes up, her voice small and worried. "We picked some from behind the bakery because Rhea said they looked just like the ones Eda uses on her fancy cakes. The blue ones with the pretty petals."
My blood turns to ice. Blue flowers with pretty petals. I know exactly what they're describing—rirzed blossoms, which Eda does use for decoration. But there's another flower that grows wild in the alleyways, one that looks nearly identical until you know what to look for.
"Oh gods," I breathe, my steps faltering. "Numiscu blossoms."
Ciaran's violet eyes meet mine over Rhea's head, understanding passing between us instantly. "That explains the symptoms," he says grimly. "The paralytic effect, the respiratory distress."
"But why didn't Nya get sick too?" The question tears from my throat as we reach the shop door. I fumble with my keys, my hands still shaking so badly I can barely work the lock.
"My magic," Nya says simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Dad says it protects me from lots of bad things. That's why I have to take medicine when other kids don't."
Ciaran's jaw tightens, and I can see the weight he carries in the set of his shoulders. All those years of managing his daughter's condition, of knowing that her own magic could turn against her without warning. "Her magical tolerance is higher," he explains as I finally get the door open. "What would poison Rhea might only make Nya mildly ill. Especially if it was only a few petals and her body is used to handling such things."
We climb the narrow stairs to the apartment, each step feeling like an eternity. Rhea's breathing is steady now, but I can't stop watching the rise and fall of her chest, can't quite believe she's really safe. Every parent's worst nightmare had been playing out in front of me, and if Ciaran hadn't been there...
I push the thought away before it can take root. He was there. He knew what to do. My daughter is alive because of him.
"Both of you listen to me," I say as Ciaran settles Rhea on her bed, my voice carrying the kind of stern authority I rarely use. "You never, ever eat anything you find growing outside without asking an adult first. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mum," Rhea whispers, her face pale but earnest.
"Yes, Miss Brynn," Nya adds, crawling up onto the bed beside her friend. "We won't do it again. Promise."
I want to lecture them more, want to make sure they understand how close we came to losing everything tonight, but the words stick in my throat. They're children. They made a mistake, and they've learned from it in the most terrifying way possible. Adding guilt to their fear won't help anyone.
"Good," I manage instead, pulling the quilt up around both girls. "Now rest. You've had enough excitement for one night."
