Firebird of Glass

by Zoe Chant

  He left the Christmas tree lights on, softly illuminating the room, and made Fabio follow him out to the media room so he wouldn’t climb up and crush Tadra while she recovered.

  Fabio accepted a spot on the couch next to Ansel as a poor substitute for drowsing with Tadra. Ansel took up his keyboard with determination. He wasn’t going to sit around feeling helpless. He had some use beyond feeding dogs and filling dishwashers, and he was going to use his skills to find Tadra’s shieldmates...and her key.

  He was sure that her key would be the answer to her debilitating spells, and he was big enough to put her happiness before his own loneliness.

  Somehow.

  Chapter 17

  Over the next several days, Tadra found herself being careful without meaning to, always pausing to check herself for weakness before starting a task. It was infuriating, frustrating, and...so random. She frowned at her notes on the whiteboard in the living room. There were neat records of times and any events they could think that might have triggered the attacks. They’d even tracked meals, working from Ansel’s suggestion that it could be an allergic reaction to something.

  She could not find a pattern in the frequency of them; there was no rhyme or reason to it.

  Not being able to understand it was as irksome as the actual weak spells, which left her dizzy, drained, and unable to shift. She usually recovered quickly, but they left her feeling uncertain and helpless. She hated everything about them.

  Ansel looked over her records of the dates and times thoughtfully with her. He had suggested seeing a medical doctor, but Tadra was certain that the experience was magic in nature. “There’s not enough data,” he said, looking over her notes. “It’s not a regular, predictable pattern, or at least not one you can see at this scale. Maybe we have to back up from it a little.”

  He bumped her hip with his in a comforting, familiar manner. “And hey, every time it happens, we’ll know a little more. That’s something.”

  He was always so positive and optimistic, always ready with comfort and distracting laughter whenever she felt low or out of sorts or impatient.

  And if anyone could figure out what ailed her, Ansel could. He was frankly brilliant, though he didn’t seem to think that he was. He could outsmart her at many games, though he graciously suggested that it was only a matter of experience, and he had no trouble memorizing the hundreds of hand signals that comprised their communication. At this point, they could carry on complex conversations without a single spoken word, and he never let her feel any less for her continued inability to speak. They competed in their studies, on the sparring mat, and over games on the dining room table, the loser never complaining, only laughing in defeat.

  Ansel taught her that opponents in this world often shook hands at the end of a match, as they did in greeting, and Tadra sometimes thought that was the best part, having her hand in his for a moment.

  She glanced sideways at him. He was always watching her carefully, respectful but alert to her every gesture. She used his concentration on the whiteboard to study him for a moment, standing close at his shoulder.

  He was like a shieldmate to her. And yet not, because she had never yearned after a shieldmate, or felt their skin set hers on fire when they touched.

  He was such an appealing combination of things. Gentle, but strong. Kind, but certainly ruthless in their games. Humble, but confident. He had a knight’s true heart and a poet’s clear sight. She would go to battle with this man at her side given the chance, trusting that he was capable and unselfish.

  He glanced at her and caught her watching him before she could look away. “We’ll figure it out,” he said reassuringly. “Maybe when Robin gets back with your key, that will fix everything, your weak spells and your voice…” he trailed off.

  They shared a worry for the return of Robin and Tadra’s shieldmates. He had made many phone calls, trying to track them, inventing a story about a lost sister using Heather’s identity, checking missing persons and speaking with people at something called a consulate.

  Tadra’s concern must have shown on her face, because Ansel was swift to assure her, “I’m sure it will be soon! I’ve hired a private investigator and if anyone can find them, it will be this guy.”

  Tadra tried to smile.

  “Mind you, he probably thinks I’m some kind of nut,” Ansel told her with a coaxing smile in return. “‘Sure, mister, I’m looking for my...uh...sister. No, I don’t have her itinerary or know her passport number, but she might be traveling with three big dudes and a faery!’ Anyway, he’s a professional, I’m sure he’ll get the job done. He’d better, for what I’m paying!”

  Tadra tried to smile more successfully that time, then remembered that Robin would be returning with her key, because Ansel wasn’t her key, and that made her feelings a hundred times more complicated.

  Ansel was still watching her. “Would it make you feel any better to kick my ass a little with a wooden sword?”

  Even the suggestion made Tadra feel better; Ansel knew her so well. She often worked out tangles of logic best when her feet were moving, when she was going through fast physical motion that didn’t leave time for her brain to get wrapped up around itself. She nodded.

  They changed into what Ansel called workout clothes, stretchy and loose-fitting and met again in the garage, leaving the protesting hounds in the house.

  Tadra forgot to think about her lost shieldmates and mentor, let go of all the complex emotions that Ansel sparked in her chest, allowing her attention to focus on the fight at hand. Ansel was generally self-deprecating about his skill, but he was a strong and serious opponent, and Tadra knew that if she let her guard down, he wouldn’t hesitate to take the advantage.

  “I’m feeling lucky tonight,” Ansel teased as they took the practice swords down. “And you look slow. You shouldn’t have eaten all those sandwiches for lunch.”

  She flipped him “the bird” and curled her fingers in invitation and they stepped through a few familiar forms, step by step at first, expected thrust and counterpoint, dodge away, turn back. She had learned her lesson about trying to talk too much with her hands as they sparred and she ignored Ansel’s attempt to goad her to carelessly responding so he could earn a hit.

  They did several rounds of the dance and Tadra grinned in joy, completely immersed in the ritual and familiar flow. The practice sword was lighter than a battle weapon, but not so light that the exercise was without effort, and Ansel was a swift adversary. He wore an answering grin.

  Her frustration eased away, and she forgot to fight like she might collapse at any moment, swinging her sword in broad arcs that Ansel blocked.

  When he lowered his sword in sudden surprise, she remained on guard, thinking that he was trying to deceive her. Then she heard the telltale crackle of a portal and dropped her sword to turn and see a split open in the air near the center of the garage.

  As it opened, there was a breath of warm, tropical air and an intense smell of green. There was a glimpse of jungle through the spreading doorway, and then figures so familiar and dear that tension Tadra hadn’t even realized she’d been feeling melted away from her heart. Her shieldmates! They were as whole and hale and happy as they’d been in their photographs and they were back together with her!

  She ran to throw herself into their arms as they forged through, pressing her forehead to each of them in turn as they embraced her in joyful hugs and lifted her with laughter and greeting.

  “Tadra!” Trey cried, folding her into his arms.

  “Shieldmate! Sister!” Henrik added, stealing her away to swing her up into the air with no thought for her dignity.

  Then Rez had his arms around all of them with a roar of rapture and Tadra’s feet didn’t reach the ground and she didn’t even care.

  They were so busy talking over each other that it was a long while before they realized that Tadra wasn’t speaking.

  “Is your tongue broken?” Trey joked as he drew away, but he didn’t see
m concerned as Tadra shrugged and spread her hands without replying.

  There were new figures coming through the portal with more warm, moist air. Their keys, Tadra knew. Heather, with sepia skin like Ansel’s though they otherwise looked nothing alike. Daniella, with cream-colored skin and long dark hair pulled back in a braid. Gwen, with her sensible shorter hair and oval face. They were all quite dirty and tired-looking.

  “This is my key,” Trey said, drawing Daniella forward. “Daniella.”

  Tadra shook her hand in the polite Earth fashion and nodded, then did the same for the others.

  Heather introduced herself. “We’re delighted to see you in one piece!” She did not have to add that she was as surprised as she was delighted; they could not have expected her to be free of her glass prison.

  “I’m Gwen,” the last woman greeted her.

  Then the final figures were coming through the battered portal and Robin—dear, familiar Robin, even if they were as distressingly small as Ansel had warned!—was stitching the fabric of the world together...behind her own key.

  This was the moment that Tadra had been waiting for.

  This was the moment that fire would return to her soul.

  She should be filled with anticipation and relief. Here was her destiny, her weapon, forged to help her save this curious world that she was already half in love with. She would feel for this man emotions that she had never felt before and she should be giddy with happiness.

  Hope and readiness ought to fill her.

  But all that she felt was guilt and regret, because she’d already given her heart without meaning to, and she only wanted Ansel.

  Chapter 18

  Ansel wrestled back his prickly jealousy as Tadra greeted her shieldmates with unabashed enthusiasm and glee, embracing them without hesitation and letting them lift her into their arms for giant hugs and forehead presses. He was keenly aware of his sweaty condition and his unflattering workout wear.

  The knights always looked like they were stepping out of a Conan movie or off the cover of a romance novel, no matter what they were wearing.

  Then Robin was flying out through the portal with a stranger and Ansel knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this must be Tadra’s key. She spotted him as Robin sealed the portal and went stiff, backing away from Gwen, who had just introduced herself.

  This was it.

  This was Tadra’s moment of connection with her key.

  She would see him and love him and need him. Ansel would be forgotten in that instance, whatever fondness they had foolishly allowed to grow between them overshadowed by the greater bond of destiny. What Ansel had with her would be relegated to a perfectly platonic friendship, just as it was always meant to be. Just as it should have remained.

  He could not make himself watch her, could not bear to witness the transformation that she must go through at the sight of the stranger. So he stared at her key, instead, and hated himself for hating the man who was going to make Tadra so happy.

  The key was a tall, fit man with a grin splitting his tanned face. A mop of golden hair flowed back from a broad forehead. He had movie-star good looks and brilliant blue eyes and he moved like an athlete, effortlessly graceful. He didn’t look once at Ansel, who was stepping back from the chaos of greetings, wishing he was anywhere else.

  “This is Kevin,” Henrik introduced. “A noble warrior of the land of California who was instrumental in our release from captivity.”

  Kevin. Ansel even hated his name.

  Then he spoke, only to Tadra, “Hello at last,” and Ansel despised his smooth voice even more than his name.

  Ansel couldn’t look at him any longer, and he gazed around at the rest of the room. Each of the knights gave him a swift embrace and a glad greeting.

  No one asked why Tadra didn’t speak, or how she had been released from her broken ornament and no one offered to explain their long absence or express any concern over the deadline they were facing.

  “You guys cut things kind of close,” he observed.

  No one paid him any mind.

  “Oh my god, I need a shower.” This was from Gwen, who appeared to be covered in a fine, brown slime.

  “Where are the dogs?” Daniella wanted to know.

  That was his cue, Ansel reminded himself. He was the hound-keeper. “They’re in the house,” he said faintly.

  Daniella opened the door to the house, and the dogs realized what was happening and poured in, howling and barking and wagging their tails as they greeted everyone eagerly. Heather scooped Vesta up into her arms and snuggled her close as she wiggled and whined. There was no sign of Socks, of course, and Ansel wished that he could slink off like her and hide until everyone went away.

  “There was much heroism,” Trey declared.

  “And long captivity,” Rez added, but he said it with a careless shrug.

  “You had it easy,” Robin needled him. “Talk to me when you do that again for more than a month.” Of all of them, they looked the most battered...and the most unconcerned. They had been gone the longest, and clearly had been drained of their power; they were barely able to stay aloft after sealing the portal and had diminished to a size that would already almost fit in the dollhouse that Ansel had bought for them. This seemed like a terrible portent for the coming battle...which no one had mentioned at all.

  Ansel felt guilty for his selfishness, and genuinely concerned. If Robin was this weak now, would the knights be successful in fighting back a full force of invaders in just a week? But Robin looked at him then and smirked. “Still better than living in your second-hand store was.”

  Something felt off, and Ansel looked back at Tadra reluctantly, wanting to see if she felt it too.

  Kevin was shaking her hand in greeting, so she couldn’t sign, and he was gazing at her with a look on his face that Ansel couldn’t quite identify. Ansel could only see the lines of Tadra’s shoulders—tense with emotion—not the expression on her face as she looked back at her soulmate.

  “It’s been quiet here,” Ansel said, plowing forward. “Haven’t seen any dours or read about any psychotic breaks in the paper that might be dark magic from your world. But tell me more about what happened. I must have left you about a hundred messages.”

  “It was a trap,” Robin said without interest. “A bleak captured Kevin and used him as bait to capture the rest of us.”

  “It was noble Kevin’s courage that freed us,” Henrik said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  Kevin staggered a little at the friendly blow and Tadra glanced back over her shoulder in Ansel’s direction. Ansel looked fixedly at Robin so he wouldn’t see the joy in her face. He wasn’t strong enough to be happy for her yet. Robin looked distant.

  “The same bleak that we’ve faced before?”

  Robin shrugged again. “Only Kevin ever saw it directly. The rest of us were handled by humans. Did someone mention food?”

  Still no one had commented on the fact that Tadra didn’t speak, or even wonder how it was that she was standing among them.

  Could she speak now? They had theorized that she might get her voice back when she met her key.

  Ansel dragged his gaze to her again. He should cheer her on and be joyful for her. That’s what a friend would do.

  But Tadra’s face was full of reservation, and her hands were making an urgent repeated motion. No, key. No, key. No, key.

  Kevin wasn’t her key? Irrational hope flooded back to Ansel’s heart. “He’s not her key,” he blurted.

  Everyone looked between them, bewildered, and even the dogs paused in their happy writhing.

  “What do you mean?” Robin asked lazily.

  “He’s not her key,” Ansel repeated. “That’s what she’s saying.”

  Tadra nodded crisply, looking relieved. I’m sure.

  “She’s sure.”

  Puzzled, Henrik asked, “She said that with her hands?”

  “She doesn’t speak?” Trey said in slow confusion, as if he was only no
w noticing.

  “It’s sign language!” Daniella realized. “I didn’t know that you knew sign language!”

  “I didn’t,” Ansel said, watching only Tadra, who was gesturing more firmly now, and stepping away from Kevin. “She says there’s no connection, that there’s been a mistake, that he’s not her key.” He tried hard not to sound too glad about it. The relief was like being snapped with the rebound of a rubber band.

  Kevin, to Ansel’s surprise, didn’t look the slightest bit concerned by this news. He only looked...smug.

  “Maybe the reason that she feels that there is no connection is related to the reason she can’t speak,” Robin said dismissively. “Perhaps the key bond itself was damaged when her glass prison was broken. I’m sure it will work out. We’re all ravenous, what about an early dinner?”

  Ansel stopped looking at Tadra long enough to look at Robin, confused. The fable looked like this was all of no particular concern. No one else looked the slightest bit bothered, either.

  “I am starving,” Daniella said merrily. “I have been dreaming of a hamburger with a side of fries for two weeks.”

  “Don’t you guys want to talk about this? Or our game plan for the end of the year?” Ansel suggested leerily. “We’ve been discussing strategy while you were gone…”

  “We should do takeout from Brewer’s!” Gwen said, as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “They have the baskets of fowl in the shape of fingers,” Henrik said, nodding.

  “Do you want to catch me up on this trap you walked into? Should we be concerned?” Ansel asked desperately. He glanced at Tadra’s hands. “Tadra wants to know if you encountered superdours there. We wondered how widespread they’d gotten.”

  “It is of no moment,” Rez shrugged.

  “An order of the spicy peppers, breaded and stuffed with fine white cheese!” Trey added, as if nothing in the conversation was more important.

  Something wrong, Tadra signed firmly. Is not… she made the sign they had invented for shieldmate. Wrong.