Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “It is we who ask forgiveness,” his mother whispered. “Let us leave it all behind us and start again.”

  Simith hadn’t the strength for sobs, but his tears came when they embraced him. He felt so young in his parents’ arms. Love was such a strange creature, to reknit that which it tore apart with equal ease.

  “How am I alive?” he asked when they let one another go at last.

  Simith bowed his head when they told him. To be saved by those he’d so horribly wronged made his condemnation complete. He took solace in the fact that the plan had worked. His parents recounted the tale. The great battle had just begun when the pixies were released from their true names. The fairies hadn’t stood a chance against their combined might. Of the triad, only Lady Florian survived, having surrendered early on, and ordered her soldiers to lay down their arms. King Drokeh would pass judgement on their fate soon.

  As well as on Simith’s, they told him. It was known throughout the troll army that the Sun Fury had enabled their victory, but this didn’t absolve him of his crimes. Simith hadn’t expected it would. He would accept whatever punishment they felt he owed, except…

  “Where is Jessa?” he asked.

  “Her friend took her to another tent to rest,” his mother said.

  “Katie? She’s here?”

  “Her friend accompanied you when they brought you from the Jaded Grove. It’s been three days since then.” His father settled a knowing look on him. “Jessa hasn’t left your side this entire time. We brought blankets in here, but she barely slept.”

  Warmth glowed beneath his skin. It was a new sensation, but he recognized it instantly, and it made him wish for things he shouldn’t with his uncertain future looming before him.

  That evening, when he was able to stand on his own, the trolls arrived to escort him to face King Drokeh for sentencing.

  “Is there to be no trial?” his mother demanded of them.

  Simith touched her shoulder. “Mother, there’s no question of my guilt.”

  The only clemency he intended to request when they condemned him to death was the time needed to separate his life force from Jessa’s. She and her child were innocent of any crime. They should not have to share his punishment. Drokeh was a reasonable king. Simith held hope he’d be granted this mercy. He kept none for himself.

  He didn’t see Jessa as they led him to the King’s tent. Though he longed for the comfort of her presence, he prayed she’d sleep through the ordeal. When the fairies proclaimed their judgements, they recited the accused’s crimes in a public spectacle. Sometimes, the accused was stripped of their clothing. Sometimes, the spectators threw rocks and the guards cracked their whips. He didn’t know what to expect from the trolls.

  Nerves ate at his stomach, and he almost ran into the backs of his escort when they stopped before another tent. It looked the same as the one he’d left, but when he entered, King Drokeh sat upon well-worn rugs beside a glowing brazier. He wore the same battle armor in which Simith had fought him in the arena—a single, round plate protecting his heart. General Seshi sat at his right hand. A few others he didn’t recognize lined the far wall, though their leathers had the markings of high rank. Drokeh’s council, perhaps.

  The king waved him forward. “Enter, Sun Fury, and stand before us.”

  Simith kept his expression neutral. Inwardly, he reeled. No crowds. No chains or ropes binding him. His escort moved to a courteous distance as he stepped closer, and even nodded to his parents when they requested to stand with him.

  Drokeh remained sitting as he addressed Simith. “I presume you have heard the fairies are defeated.”

  “I have.”

  “I will not say the victory was solely because of you. We each had to fulfill our roles, but I will say it could not have happened without you.”

  Simith nodded. He didn’t know what to reply.

  Drokeh leaned back slightly, his palms against his knees. “There is peace between your race and mine. This is perhaps the greatest triumph of all, but that peace does not extend to you.”

  Simith lowered to one knee. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn’t ask for forgiveness. Voicing his remorse felt pointless. What did his sorrow matter compared to the sorrow of those he’d harmed?

  “Lift your head, Sun Fury.” The low growl came from Seshi. She glared at him when he obeyed. “I will not have my greatest enemy kneel there like a sheep.”

  Simith nodded to her in silence. He straightened his spine, though he remained kneeling.

  Drokeh said, “Amnesty has been granted to all pixies deceived into joining the legion, but I cannot offer it to you. My people would not accept it, and truly, nor can their king. I have walked behind the path of your blade too many times to forget all you have taken from us.”

  Simith did not look away from his gaze. He let his anger fall over him like a punishing rain. He gave no excuse. He did not duck the blow. The words slammed against skin and muscle and bone. He let his body ache with them.

  Drokeh turned a look on his general, on the others standing against the far side of the tent. Each gave a small nod.

  He faced Simith, and rose to his feet. “For your crimes, the only possible sentence is death.” From his side, he drew his long blade and held it high. The firelight glinted on its edge. “As king, my judgement is thus: Simith of Drifthorn, Sun Fury, veteran knight of the Thistle Court, for the acts of valor performed that saved both our peoples from destruction, I commute your execution. Instead, you are hereby banished from these lands and this world for no less than two years for every year you spent killing my people.” He lowered the blade and let it rest on the side of Simith’s neck. “Yield, and your life is spared.”

  Simith felt certain he’d misheard. Behind him, his parents’ breath shuddered with both relief and anguish.

  “Do you yield?” Drokeh’s gaze lanced through him.

  “Why spare me?” he managed. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Have you learned nothing, Sun Fury?” General Seshi said from her place by the brazier. She stared into the flames. “The grave succors the dead, not the living. Our peace doesn’t require your blood.”

  “Only your absence,” Drokeh said. “Live and regret. That is our sentence.”

  Simith had no words. Justice without killing. Honor in mercy. It was like the discovery of a new color. He looked back at his mother and father, at the loss in their eyes. For all Simith’s courage in battle, his bravery hadn’t extended far beyond the battlefield. Strength came from acceptance, too.

  “Live and regret.” He turned back to the king. “To this, I yield.”

  Simith sat on the top rail of Ionia’s porch, watching the sunflowers dance under an afternoon sky while the two of them sipped…He examined his glass. What had Ionia called it? Lemon Aid? A strange drink. Sour-sweet, yet somehow fresh in the summer heat. He concentrated his thoughts on whether or not he enjoyed it, unwilling to settle on an opinion. The distraction from the many goodbyes he’d endured the night before wouldn’t last once he did.

  Twenty years.

  The sentence meant Simith could one day return. For peace to succeed, Simith understood he couldn’t be there as a reminder of the harm his people had inflicted on the trolls. Yet, sitting on this porch, he realized it was no easy thing to be barred from the place of one’s birth. Everything here was different. In this world, he’d always have to hide what he was. His magic, eventually, would drain with none to replace it. If he did go back, he knew nothing would match what he remembered. This had happened before. Home ceased to be home when one left it.

  He sipped his drink again, allowing a frozen cube into his mouth to crunch on it. Icy splinters numbed the insides of his cheeks.

  “I’ve examined the link between you and Jessa again,” Ionia said. “I believe I’ve determined the root cause of what split your life force with Jessa.”

  His brows went up. “You have?”

  “It was the child within her. You didn’
t have the strength to heal both, so you leant half of your own life to save them.”

  He frowned. “But I didn’t know there were two lives at the time.”

  “Your magic knew, and it responded to your command. Would it have mattered?”

  “No.” He tipped his head back against the porch beam. “Does this mean we can never be disentangled?”

  “Not at all. The child grows her own life force, and soon she’ll no longer need what you gave her to survive. The link will simply cease to exist one day.”

  Simith straightened. “She? A daughter?”

  Ionia’s mouth pinched. “Yes, it’s a girl, though if you’re wise, you’ll say nothing. Many humans have the odd desire to let that remain a surprise. They get quite grumpy when you spoil it.”

  A grin overwhelmed him. “I will say nothing.”

  Jessa had always wanted a daughter. She’d drawn rosy-cheeked pictures of one when she was still a child herself. That her wish would come true sent a trembling euphoria through Simith. Would this little one have dark eyes like her mother?

  His smile fell. He wasn’t likely to be a part of that joy, not if what Ionia said was true.

  When his sentence had been handed down, Jessa had immediately extended an offer to live in her world.

  “You’ll stay at my house,” she’d insisted. “And don’t even think of arguing it. Our situation is still in effect. Besides, I’ve loads of room, and we’ve already established you’re a pajama guy, so we’re good.”

  She’d added the last with a cheeky smirk, but if their life forces became once more independent, Jessa had no reason to keep him near. Unless…would she invite him to remain? Did he want that? He feared to even ask himself the question. If she didn’t want him to stay, he would be forced into another goodbye. His heart thumped painfully to contemplate it, an ache that was the same and yet far more severe than all his other farewells.

  “Drink your lemonade, pixie,” Ionia said dryly, swirling her own so the ice clinked against the glass. “I’m old, and your churning mind is exhausting to sit beside.”

  “How long?” he asked. “How long until we’re separated?”

  She considered. “When the pregnancy is twelve weeks along, I’d say. Perhaps sooner.” She tilted him a look. “You’ll have to think of something to do in the meantime. Idleness tends to make one dwell on their banishment.”

  His eyes turned toward the house where Jessa and Katie had gone to visit Relle. It pleased him to know Relle would recover fully, if slowly, from her ordeal with the curse. As for himself…He glanced down at the bandages around his hands. Signs of what would become ropy scars encircled his fingers and palms. He hadn’t lost all feeling in them, but he doubted he’d ever wield a sword with the same skill.

  He was immensely glad.

  Simith drew up one knee and gazed back out at the sunflowers. “I’m not sure what qualities I have to offer beyond those of a soldier,” he replied to Ionia’s question. “And I have no desire to offer those to anyone.”

  “This magicless realm might surprise you with its variation, but since you’re stuck in Michigan for the moment, I took the liberty of asking around.”

  He returned her even look with one of surprise. “You did?”

  She hummed in confirmation. “There’s a fairly well-acclaimed raptor center near here that could use an extra hand.”

  “Raptor center. What is that?”

  “They care for and rehabilitate wild birds. Falcons, eagles, hawks, as well as other things, I’m sure.” She waved a hand. “Since your race is known for comradeship with such creatures, you seem suited for it.”

  He did indeed. It sounded wonderful.

  “But no one knows me here. Would they trust a stranger with such tasks?”

  “Well, you’ll have to hide your wings and use a bit of glamour on those ears—I recommend you grow out your hair to cover them—but I’ve already inquired, and they’re willing.” Her smile was sly. “It helps that I mentioned you’re a veteran.”

  “Not of any war in this world.”

  “Minor details. It’s hardly difficult to insert information into the little databases humans treasure so dearly.” She shrugged when he didn’t reply. “You can always resign if you don’t enjoy it, but it’s worth seeing if you can help other birds accept their new circumstances along with yourself.”

  He stared at her, quietly dumbstruck. “Kindness is an unexpected virtue in the Fae.”

  Ionia snorted. “It’s this realm, watching all these powerless creatures struggle to build, innovating within the restrictions of their world.”

  “There were other realms your kind escaped into, are there not?”

  “Yes, countless kindred realms exist alongside each other.”

  “Yet, you chose this one.”

  “I did, and it seems it’s softened me in unanticipated ways.”

  “Unanticipated. But not altogether unwanted?”

  Her face gave nothing away but her voice didn’t have its usual edge. “Perhaps.”

  Simith watched the sky, bright with summer sun. He thought of his mother and father. He thought of his last embrace with them, the love and sadness mixed in their eyes. Flix had sworn to watch over them in his absence, but this brought little comfort. Because of him, they grieved the loss of two sons. They might still be alive if he went back in the future. And they might not.

  But their homeland would have peace. He’d have to find his own elsewhere.

  “If this world can soften me,” he said roughly, “I will welcome it, for I have never slept well with a hardened heart.”

  Chapter Ten

  At exactly twelve weeks, the memory-dreams stopped. When Jessa woke that morning, she didn’t realize it at first, and laid there wondering why she’d been dreaming about soup. Then it hit her.

  She threw on her robe against the somewhat chilly October weather, hurried downstairs—and found Simith already there, boiling tea water.

  “You’re awake,” she blurted before noticing he was fully dressed, his wings hidden beneath a long raincoat. She checked the clock. Barely seven. “Why are you awake?”

  He sent a smile her way before taking down a travel mug from the cupboard. “We’re releasing two hawks into the wild today. I want to get to the center early.”

  Jessa went to the pantry and retrieved the Earl Grey tea bags he preferred. “I thought it was eagles.”

  “Those are in a few days. The hawks are being transported farther out.”

  “How far?”

  “Half a day from here. I may not be home until after supper.” He paused in filling his thermos, sharp brown eyes examining hers. He set it down. “You’ve noticed.”

  “Noticed?” Her eyes widened. “You mean this isn’t the first night we haven’t dreamed each other’s memories?”

  He shook his head.

  “How long has it been?”

  “Two weeks.”

  Jessa put her hand on the counter. “But Ionia said it wouldn’t happen until twelve weeks.”

  “Ten weeks is till rather close.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, louder than she’d meant.

  “I thought it better to wait until I was certain the link was gone.”

  “Until you were certain? What do you mean?”

  He turned back to his thermos, screwing the lid on. “I don’t know. It made sense at the time.”

  But he did know. She could tell by the way his face was arranged into the expression she despised most: Unreadable. He wore it so often around her lately. He only became guarded when he was troubled, yet he clearly didn’t wish her to know what he was troubled about. She didn’t like the way he seemed to be pulling away.

  “If this is true then…” She paused, her throat thick with emotion. “Then I guess there’s nothing keeping you here in Skylark anymore.”

  Simith picked up the thermos. He wrapped both of his scarred hands around it, one stacked atop the other the way he used to hol
d his sword.

  “Is there nothing keeping me here, Jessa?” he asked quietly.

  She wanted to tell him there was. She wanted to tell him that even before he came to live in her house, she’d wanted him to return to her world with her.

  I want you to stay. I want you to be more than my friend.

  But how could she say that, standing there three months pregnant with a child that wasn’t his? If she told him all that, he might feel compelled to remain for the wrong reason. She knew his noble heart. He’d only stayed this long because of the link that bound them together.

  “Maybe we should discuss it when you come home,” she hedged.

  Something in him dimmed, but only for a second. He stowed his thermos in the backpack at his feet, and stepped close. His hand came up, brushing wild strands of dark hair from her face. His fingers still glowed with heat.

  “Until tonight, then.” He smiled softly and left.

  “Let’s throw a party,” Katie cheered as they stepped out of the doctor’s office together that afternoon. She still gripped the ultrasound photos the technician had printed out, and Jessa began to suspect she didn’t intend to hand them over.

  “A party for what?” she asked through her smile. Her face felt brighter than the dappled October sky, the thump-thump of that tiny heartbeat ringing in her ears.

  “Who cares? Look at our adorable little blob.” Katie leaned a hip against the car door, pointing at the top photo as if Jessa hadn’t seen the image happening live ten minutes ago. “This is the best thing ever. We’ve got to celebrate—not to mention, we received all the finalized papers from Ruben waiving his parental rights last week. I ask you, is there a better reason to party?”

  “Katie,” she chided. “Ruben’s been great about everything. If there’s anything to celebrate on that score, it’s the fact that he’s not the jerk we assumed he was.”

  As it turned out, Ruben’s trip to the U.S. came shortly after a rejected proposal with his childhood sweetheart. When he’d returned, they’d patched things up, the distance reminding both sides that what they shared was too precious to ever let go. He’d even told her about the one-night stand. It was just his bad luck that the consequences were far reaching.