by Thia Mackin
Standing, I used one of the crutches to push my chair back under the table. “Just in case I lose you as a guide, I would like the grand tour. Then,” I grimaced, “I’ll probably need to lie down for a bit.”
Asher’s lips quirked at my obvious chagrin. “If it makes you feel better, you’ve done more than Mom expected already. She thought I might have to carry you back to the solarium after you ate.”
Crutching along behind him, I tried to keep my head up and observe our surroundings. The foyer was obviously not where I had entered the house. Of course, the solarium was proof that the house had multiple points of entry. “Did your brother weigh in on this?”
His face was hidden, but his smile sounded in his voice. “He said I might have to hit you over the head to keep you from overdoing it, so I’d prefer you prove both of them wrong.”
My lips twitched. “That’s fair.”
Asher generously volunteered details about the home and surrounding area as we walked, allowing me to concentrate on not tripping. After reentering the house, we paused in front of the library again, and relief filled me as I recognized the hallway. My room—the solarium—was a couple doors down.
Asher motioned me to go first, and I gratefully crutched into the solarium and proceeded to one of the two chairs in the corner where he’d been playing earlier. Sitting down carefully, I sighed and looked at the instrument.
“I’ve never seen one of these before,” I admitted, curious but trying not to pry.
My tour guide took the chair across from me, running his fingers down the neck of the instrument with a smile. “Most people haven’t; it’s a bouzouki—a Greek instrument adapted from a Turkish bağlama. It’s in the same family as a lute.”
I repeated the term, liking the sound of it. Intrigued, I thought back to the song he’d been playing when I woke up, but those few initial moments were fuzzy. “I’ve seen a number of lutes on the Planes.”
He picked up the instrument and strummed a few chords. “I learned how to play the bağlama when I was a little boy. There’s no one in the Sirach Sithen with the Gift of Music quite like I have it, so Mom asked her brother to look for teachers for me at the Fatih Sithen. They were able to train me.”
While I’d never traveled to any Sithen and didn’t know which one my parents hailed from, I admired the dedication to survival the places represented. When Tuatha de prophets had seen the end to the Danaan Plane, the strongest members of the most powerful clans had used their Gifts to create miniature Planes from nothing. They had linked the entrances of these pocket dimensions to the Terra Plane, one of the most habitable but least inhabited options at that time. Smaller, weaker clans had allied with the bigger ones or fled the destruction completely. The Fatih fae were neither small nor weak. It made sense that this family allied with them somehow.
Yet… “I didn’t pin your Gift as Music earlier.” The words sounded cautious, which I guessed was an improvement over accusatory.
My new friend ducked his head and appeared to be concentrating on his finger position on the frets as he plucked the instrument. “My Gift is Music, with a touch of Illusion and projective empathy, which means I shield like an empath having a bad day. What did you think my Gift was?”
My lips pursed a moment, preventing any words from escaping before I considered them carefully. People interpreted certain phrases with a negative connotation that wasn’t intended, and his statement had been very deliberate. The feeling earlier as we ate breakfast had been… controlling, manipulative. He hadn’t wanted me to ask something, so I hadn’t. Maybe there wasn’t a positive connotation for what I’d thought. “Something that allowed you to influence others.”
His body language showed me his discomfort. “That’s basically what even non-Gifted music is—a rhythmic pattern of sound and silence intended to influence an audience somehow. The fact that my Gift makes the music I play into something more…that doesn’t—” He fiddled with the tuning as he struggled to find the words, played a quick chord to test, and then met my eyes. “You’re not wrong, Kinan. That influence, the Compulsion, that’s part of it, but it’s not separate from the Music.”
I nodded, accepting the explanation. Hopefully, we had a mutual respect that would keep him from using his Gift against me. As long as we maintained that, no point continuing with a subject that required me to be so particular with my statements and him to feel so uncomfortable. “So how many instruments do you play? As in, know at least a song.”
He relaxed slightly. “More than two hundred; I specialize in chordophones, aerophones, and membranophones, but if you give me two hours with an object and tell me that music can be made with it, I’ll figure out how to play it at least passably. If you tell me music can’t be made with it, it’ll take less time than that. Spite is a powerful motivator.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s… impressive. I couldn’t even name that many instruments.”
One of his shoulders raised in a half-shrug. “I have a degree in composition for the cello and spent college playing drums in a succession of bands. Drums and string instruments are my favorite.”
Thoughtfully, I admitted, “My talent lies in language, but my Gift of Prophecy is barely more than a parlor trick—nothing useful like yours or your brother’s.” Pausing only a second, I decided to forge onward as I leaned my elbow on the table. “Is this normal for your family? Having an injured stranger literally fall on your doorstep, taken in by your mom for healing, and defended in battle by your brother?”
He laughed, though not the same happy sound from earlier. “No, it’s really, really not. Mostly the people Mom takes in are people she knows from the community. As far as the rest of the world knows, she isn’t exactly a medical practitioner. To the people of this Plane, ‘Karen Simmons’ is a rancher and runs a small online crafting business. As far as being defended in battle by one of my brothers, I’ve never seen Rankar care this much about anyone outside his circle.”
Anxiety pushed at my calm, my heartbeat suddenly pounding in my ears. The fingers of the hand in my lap dug into the flesh of my uninjured leg, and I lowered my voice. “Asher, I need you to tell me the truth. Is my being here a danger to your family?”
He considered my question, and I saw him processing. While I appreciated his seriousness, my chest ached by the time he decided. “Tucumcari isn’t like New York or Chicago—where you would blend into the millions of people who come to visit or move there for whatever reason. If you’re out in public here, people will notice you and be curious. You might get stares. Given a decent cover story, we can explain your presence in a way that doesn’t rouse suspicion. You’re an oddity and a secret right now, but I wouldn’t call you a danger.”
I swallowed, leaning back in the chair. “Thank you. I’ll try to stay indoors until your mom gets back to talk it over with.” Forcing a smile, I shrugged. “You all can’t exactly pass me off as a cousin or sibling.”
A subtle confidence briefly changed Asher’s posture. “Sure we can. It’d be temporary at first, but either Dad or I can make you look like one of us, and I can make someone think that of course they recognize you or remember you driving into town for a visit.” The self-assurance morphed into something harder to decipher, almost a nonchalance… but not. “My Gift isn’t just being able to compel you to not ask questions I don’t want to answer; I can provide the answers to questions you don’t even realize you should have asked.” He barely paused before asking, “What do you do when you’re on the Terra Plane and you’re not recovering from being shot?”
I blinked. “Uh.” Normally, people were interested in what I did when I was off the Plane. “Real estate. I sell property internationally under an alias—Sara Nichols. It lets me travel, and it explains my long absences. Plus, there is legitimately decent money in it at times.”
His sudden grin made me pause. “See, I can work with ‘real estate agent’ for a cover. Congratulations, Sara Nichols has just been hired to help Ash Talsin look for a temporary res
idence overseas. I’m thinking Mediterranean—with a recording studio built in or able to be added. If you’re seen in town, it’s because your client asked you to meet him here to get a sense of his needs before you get to work.”
Tilting my head, I let his alias rattle in my brain for a moment. “Ash Talsin. Did you perform in Italy about three years ago?”
“Ash Talsin was a guest performer in a performance of Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in Turin; it was one of his last performances before he became a full-time composer.”
“I was there! Sometimes, I attend concerts and plays and performances—which is one thing this Plane does well. Then I’m gone again.” Gradually, my pulse had slowed, and the adrenaline dump left me tired. However, neither of those explained the regret in my last sentence.
When I glanced up, Asher studied me, and I wondered what he saw. One thing I needed him to understand, though, was that his family’s generosity would not be overlooked. “Before I go, I will repay my debt to your family, Asher.”
He nodded seriously. “I’m sure you will. That’s between you and Rankar and my mother, though. For now, you seem like you need some rest.”
Reaching back for my crutches, I accepted Asher’s help to stand. “Definitely time for a nap.” A smile slipped free. I realized the conversation had been genuinely delightful. “Thank you for babysitting. I enjoyed your company, and I hope we see one another again… even if it’s from the seats of an auditorium.”
“It was my pleasure. Hopefully we’ll get to know each other better while you’re here.” He accepted the hand I extended and let me know he’d be down the hall in the library if I needed anything.
I realized as he shut the door partway behind him that I needed to leave sooner than later. This family invited me to become attached, and that wouldn’t end well for any of us.
Chapter 10
The following weeks passed quickly, but my strength returned slowly. Mrs. Sirach—Ryn—advised that iron susceptibility probably ran in my bloodline, which meant I would heal more sluggishly than most fae from injuries caused by it. When she realized I was going crazy, she took me to the herb garden and gave me a lesson in weeding. The stables and pastures were off-limits, she warned, until I could muck a stall without her fearing I would impale myself on a pitchfork. Luckily, guards from Asez Holding—the compound near Tucumcari, New Mexico where Rankar worked as head of security—often dropped in to help with the chores.
Mycal worked for the government, and he spent most of his days away. However, he almost always Gated back for supper and to take care of the horses, sheep, and goats if someone had not stopped in from Asez. With the turmoil there from the owner’s death and her granddaughter taking over, we often had a visitor or two a day. In fact, one of Rankar’s blue drakyns—usually Hypnos—dropped in at least daily to deliver notes and messages, though his bonded was noticeably absent.
Shortly after one of Hypnos’s morning visits, Ryn announced that she needed to travel to Asez and would be gone a few days. “I’ve prepared enough meals to get you through until I return. Instructions to reheat them are on the fridge beside the emergency numbers. Whichever guard has stable duty will check on you.”
Her no-nonsense attitude kept the panic at bay until she Gated away. Then I realized she had just left me in charge. A veritable stranger. Goddess, help me.
The day dragged on. The gardens were weeded, the house had already been spotless, the guards took care of the horses, and the ranch hands took care of the sheep and goats. A few books on Welsh filched from the library kept me company until Hypnos visited that evening, like thoughts about his bonded had conjured him. ::Okay?::
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m glad to see you,” I admitted, holding my hand out to him, relieved for anything to break up the monotony.
::!!!:: he exclaimed happily, carefully walking up my arm to settle on a shoulder. Scratching under his chin caused him to rumble contentedly, so I leaned back against the headboard of the bed and closed my eyes.
Two nights in a row, Hypnos lulled me to sleep after mind-numbing days with only the guard visits. The drakyn happily chatted about his bondmate when I prompted, each morning deserting me to go help him. Though information from the creature rarely contained details and often confused me, the little guy always projected pictures and emotions to make up for it.
On day three, lunch came and went. No one had arrived to tend the horses. Boredom and stubbornness combined to send me crutching out to stables for the first time since the night of the battle. The scent of straw, horse, and leather filled the air. However, the whinny of greeting was from an unfamiliar horse. Crushing the emotion that seized my chest, I set my crutches against the wall and limped to the supply room. It took twenty minutes to grab provisions that should have taken five tops, giving me an inkling that stubbornness wasn’t always the way to lead. However, I had already committed and planned to finish even if it killed me.
Hypnos popped in a couple hours later, as I was taking a very patient gelding back into his stall. ::You here!:: The little guy sounded both surprised and relieved to find me, and he disappeared as quickly as he had entered.
With a shake of my head, I continued my self-appointed chores by balancing using the walls and the pitchfork. Finally, the stalls were clean and food troughs filled. The dogs—Treble and Clef, better known as Trouble and Cliff—lolled in the middle of the stable, sated and resting. With my arms and legs shaking, I felt tempted to join the Great Pyrenees. Instead, I carefully picked my way toward the house, stumbling occasionally as the leg of my crutch hit uneven ground.
My boots came off before I entered the front door, not about to muck up Karyn’s floors and incur her wrath. The wall held me up for a moment as I rested my arms before making the trip to my guest room. Luckily, Karyn insisted the seat stay in the shower just in case. Today was definitely an in case if I didn’t want her to find my dead body there when she came back.
Hypnos chirped from the den as I moved to enter my bedroom directly across the hallway. A quick glance revealed someone sitting on the couch, bent over. A second blue drakyn reclined on the back of the couch. The person looked up, warm brown eyes meeting mine. Rankar. His hair was mussed, like he had run his hand through it a dozen times, and dark bags beneath his eyes revealed his poor sleep. The urge to touch his shoulder and try to reassure him caused me to lean against the doorjamb, fumbling for words to break the silence. “Hey, Rankar. It’s good to see you.” The truth sounded inane after days of talking to myself. You speak over a dozen languages fluently, but your English is a little shoddy right now.
“You too, Kinan.” His gaze took in the condition of my clothes, but he didn’t chastise me for doing something he had to know I’d been told to avoid. Instead, a small smile teased his mouth for a moment.
“Are you going to be here a bit?” I asked, desperate now for a shower but unwilling to go if he intended to leave before I was out.
Rankar stood, walking around the couch toward me. Tempted to back away before he caught wind of my smell, I barely resisted. “Have you eaten supper?” he countered. I shook my head, and he nodded. “Go get your shower, and I’ll work on dinner then.”
“Thanks.” The murmur didn’t travel far, but he acknowledged it with another smile as he headed toward the kitchen.
::Worried.:: Hypnos hovered in the air above me, watching with me as his bondmate walked down the hallway.
For once, I didn’t offer the drakyn a perch. We would both end up on the floor if I did. Instead, I made my way toward the bathroom where I kept my borrowed pair of sweats, a pair of panties, and a t-shirt for such an occasion. As I entered, I paused.
“Rankar has a lot going on. It’ll take time, but from what I’ve heard, the new leader of Asez Holding will do just fine.”
The noise Hypnos made was a cross between a huff and a chirp. ::Worry about you,:: he corrected. ::Think you leave. But I find.::
A quick glance revealed the damned creature had delivered
his message and disappeared. Again. Sighing, I undressed and started my shower. One thing at a time.
Thirty minutes later, I entered the kitchen as Rankar plated two helpings of steaming stir-fry. No leftovers tonight, apparently. The man could cook, not that I should be surprised considering his mom was almost a genius at creating delicious, wholesome meals. He gestured at a seat before carrying the pan back to the stove, and I gratefully sat down. When I thought his back was to me, I rubbed my aching thigh.
“Hurt? I can rub it a bit after supper if you’d like.”
He set a glass of water in front of each of us before taking his seat, not pressing for an answer. So I kept my mouth shut. As much as I wanted to say yes, I had asked for enough. I had caused this family enough inconvenience.
The first bite of fresh vegetables and chicken gave me an excuse to concentrate on the food. However, once I had finished half, I paused. “Rankar, Hypnos said you thought I had left again.”
He stopped eating with his left wrist resting on the corner of the table, half-nodded, and admitted, “Hypnos talks too much.”
My fingers touched the back of his hand. “I have no intention of leaving without at least saying goodbye. Besides, it’s only been two weeks. My healer would be less than pleased if I cut out again before she clears me.”
Tension I hadn’t noticed drained from his shoulders, and his thumb rubbed mine before he continued to eat. For a few seconds, I watched him chew before pulling away and swallowing nervously. “I would take you up on the massage if you allow me to reciprocate.”
The smile lit up his eyes, and the nervous feeling in my chest increased. “Deal.”
Luckily, he stood to take his plate away. Also finished, I grabbed one crutch and moved to stand. Sitting after the hours of exercise left me weaker than expected with just the one crutch, and I stumbled. “Whoa there. I’ll get that,” Rankar advised, headed back to the table.
