by Sarina Dorie
“Did you know I was unconscious for over a year?” I asked.
“Yes. Mr. Thatch let me sit at your bedside and read to you and hold your hand. He thought it would be good for you.” She fixed her gaze on the ground. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but I tried to revive you. I thought maybe if I held your hands and sent magic into you, it might wake you up. It worked, but only if I kept contact with you. I’m sorry.”
No one had told me, but I had thought I remembered that. “I appreciate you trying.” Her ability must have been something like mine while resurrecting the dead. It only worked so long as I touched them.
She smoothed Dora’s hair out of her eyes. The little girl sucked her thumb, watching the other children playing music.
“Did anyone tell you how it happened?” I asked.
“Your accident? No, they’ve been very hushed up about it. Except for Ms. Bloodmire. No one can shush her, not even a Fae prince. Sometimes I can hear her yelling at my grandpa from rooms away.”
I hesitated, afraid to ask, but I suspected she was the only person who would tell me the truth if she knew. “Are there any babies here besides Vega’s? A baby less than thirteen months?”
“That’s way too young for a baby to start manifesting magic. The youngest babies we have in the school are Mechelle and Chloe.” She pointed to the three-year-olds.
Her answer didn’t satiate the gnawing curiosity in me. I tried again. “When was the first time Mr. Thatch let you read to me? How many months had I been here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe two months. I sat with you about four times a week, even if it was for short amounts of time.”
“Did you ever see anything unusual?” My heart sped up as I dared to ask the question. “Did I ever look . . . rounder? Or fatter? Or, um, pregnant?”
She laughed and then stopped abruptly when she realized I was serious. “No.”
“What about glamours? Could someone have used a glamour on me and disguised my appearance?”
“I guess they could, but why would they?”
I glanced at the children around us.
“I didn’t see any glamours. Grandpa Elric could probably have used one on you that I wouldn’t be able to detect, but he hasn’t been using large spells for almost a year. I heard Captain Errol chewing him out for constructing new wards without him. Grandpa is weak, and he gets tired easily.”
“I’ve noticed.” Khaba had mentioned something about him not being able to protect the estate, but I tried to remember when he’d said that.
“Does he owe someone a favor? Or does someone owe him?” I searched for the right words. “There’s some kind of magical imbalance.”
“That’s what I thought Captain Errol said! A magical imbalance!” Her eyes went wide. “Lots of Witchkin owe Grandpa favors, but he isn’t willing to collect. It isn’t a big deal to not collect magic owed right away for a strong Fae like the Raven Queen who is surrounded by her court and a whole bunch of magic—not that she would allow someone to get away with not paying her. But Grandpa is generous. He doesn’t like requiring boons from Witchkin, even though that’s what fuels his magic—aside from the inspiration of artists. If he were willing to drink in the souls of humans and Witchkin, he would be stronger, but he’s morally opposed to using people for his personal gain.”
I respected Elric for his ideals. Hopefully they didn’t get him killed.
Imani had told me so much, but she didn’t know the answers I sought. She didn’t know what had happened to me, nor did she confirm my fears that I might have had a baby. I was left with even more questions than when I had begun.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bedside Manner
Imani joined us at dinner, lightening the mood and making me feel less lonely. In the days that followed, I occupied my time trying to restore my affinity. I desperately wanted—needed—to recover. If I regained my magic, I could figure out how to cure my fairy godmother. I researched alchemy and metamorphosis. During days Elric was busy—or possibly too fatigued—I took charge of my sexuality and spent time alone, attempting to restore my affinity. I meditated and refrained from expending magic the way I had been told to do the first time I’d been drained.
I would recover. And when I did, I would make the Raven Queen suffer.
In addition to occupying myself with building skills to take over the world, I spent an hour each day teaching art. Shy Dora quickly got over her fear of me, crawling into my lap and wanting to be held all the time. I wondered whether she was like me and needed pleasant touch to fuel her or she simply was a kid who needed a lot of nurturing. Hugging her on my lap as she finger painted filled some of that void inside me and made me feel whole too.
Dora quickly became my favorite.
Teaching children was one of the highlights of my day. Imani and I working side by side on our paintings ended up being one of my other favorite pastimes. Sometimes my hand only drew trees. I painted an oak with full foliage thriving in a gloomy forest. I cried after I finished it. I could only hope I was seeing the present. I wanted to believe Abigail Lawrence was safe and happy as a tree.
A few days after starting my first week at Vega Bloodmire’s School for the Morally Challenged, Maddy was permitted to join us for dinner, and she brought her baby with her. Protective feelings washed over me seeing her son, though not quite as strongly as the first time I had held Vega’s baby.
I wrote letters to my friends, but I didn’t hear back. Thatch said it was because teachers weren’t back at school yet. Josie and Khaba were both on vacation. I didn’t know whether that really was the case or he hadn’t given them my letters. There was no controlling Josie and her big mouth. She might tell me something he didn’t want me to know.
I was surrounded by people, but I felt so alone. There was no one I could confide in—except for Vega.
At least I had Imani, even if I didn’t feel it was right to burden her with my problems about my loss of memory and the emptiness I felt as I grieved for my mom. Imani had been my student, and I still thought of her as being fifteen, even though she was now an adult. Still, her presence was a comfort. I didn’t know what I would have done without her.
Imani’s students put on their weekly talent show after dinner three days after she returned from her vacation. Elric might have been charitable and generous, but he was still a Fae muse who drew energy from artists. When he listened to them play music or sing, he closed his eyes and looked as though he were in rapture. He breathed in their paintings and shivered with excitement when one of the boys read his poetry. He absorbed their creative energies, looking stronger each time he did so.
I knew he wouldn’t take too much, and he always gave back, inspiring artists like me with more fuel for our fires, but it still disturbed me watching him at work with his magic. He reminded me of a vampire feeding off others.
When it was Dora’s turn to come forward and present something, she held out a dead beetle to Elric and a pebble to Vega.
“This is for Mommy and Daddy,” she said.
“That’s very nice of you. What a sweet girl!” Elric said, placing her on his knee and accepting the beetle with the dignity of a prince being given a priceless treasure.
Dora smiled. “The pebble is magic. Johnny told me so.”
Imani whispered something to one of the boys who was giggling.
When Dora squirmed her way off Elric’s lap to hug her adoptive mother, Vega patted her stiffly, probably not used to being the object of a five-year-old’s attention.
“I love you, Mommy,” Dora said.
“I’m not your mommy,” Vega said.
Dora kissed Vega’s leg, which was as high as she could reach. She stretched out her arms, wanting to be lifted. Elric picked her up instead, flinging her into the air and catching her. Dora squealed with delight.
Vega eyed the rock disdainfully. When she thought no one was looking, she tossed it out the window. Vega might have had the bright
idea to open a school, but it was probably for the best she hadn’t succeeded if she didn’t like little kids.
The following week, Thatch was gone during the days. He didn’t say the school year had started or that he was away teaching, but I guessed that was where he was. Perhaps he was trying not to rub it in that he got to go to Womby’s, but I had to rest and receive my daily inoculation of Elric’s touch magic.
I had hoped to return to work and keep teaching, but I knew my recovery was more important. I needed to restore my magic. My fairy godmother needed me to cure her and save her.
Part of my recovery involved touch magic. I couldn’t do that at Womby’s.
It wasn’t always sex. Some days it was massage by one of Elric’s attendants as he watched, or sitting beside me, an arm circled around my waist as I created art. It had to be with touch, though. I felt some of my old power returning, though I was careful about trying to use it. I remembered the suffering I’d endured the last time I’d used it too soon. Pain was a catalyst for my condition.
Instead, I meditated on my magic and my memories. I progressed in my ability to contain magic I created when I spent time alone with my magic wand—a.k.a. vibrator—without Elric. Slowly, my magic was returning.
Some days Elric looked haggard, and the only thing that perked him up was when I painted. There were times I sought him out to ask him a question about inviting someone to visit, but I found him napping like an old man.
It was the first week Thatch returned to work that I noticed the more Elric touched me, the less my own husband did. Thatch spent more time away at school working. Teachers were always busiest the first week of the school year, but I couldn’t help wondering if he was avoiding me.
“I want to spend an evening with you, not him,” I confided as I cuddled with him in bed.
“Of course you do. You must find him inferior to me in every way.” He kissed my forehead. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to put up with him.”
“When do you think you’ll be well enough to make love to me?” I asked. “I know I can control my magic. I’ve been meditating. Elric said he thinks I’m almost ready to use it actively and start practicing spells again. I won’t explode.”
“Perhaps tomorrow. I’m too tired tonight.” He patted me on the shoulder like I was his pal, not his wife.
Tomorrow came and went. The following night Thatch sent a note saying he had to stay late at the school, and he missed dinner. The next night he was too tired again.
“I promise I’ll slap you. I’ll bite you hard the way you like it,” I said.
“That’s thoughtful of you to offer.” His eyes were melancholy. “That will help, but not tonight.”
I yearned for my husband while he was away. I knew sex wasn’t going to fill the void of my affinity or anything else, but it did bring me oblivion for a little while.
“That wicked man is making you depressed,” Elric complained. “Let me cheer you up.”
Elric kissed me and made my worries disappear for a time. It was nice while it lasted. I didn’t feel as much guilt about him touching me now. The sex was too good to let other thoughts invade my mind until after. As I lay in his arms listening to him breathe deeply and drift off into a doze, I could see how Thatch could worry about me falling in love with Elric. He was attentive, compassionate, and had more than enough love to go around.
I wasn’t certain if I did.
On Saturday morning, Thatch tried to slide out of bed without waking me. He wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. I flung an arm around him and snuggled closer.
“You aren’t allowed to leave.” I nuzzled my face against his neck and kissed him. “You’re going to let me have my way with you this morning.”
“Is that so?” He squeezed me to him, the warmth of his arms delicious. “Are you keeping me captive?”
“Yep.”
“I see I’m already helpless against your feminine wiles. Your arms have imprisoned me.”
I laughed, overjoyed he was playing along.
His voice was melodic as he quoted Shakespeare, “‘Look! How a bird lies tangled in a net, so fasten’d in her arms Adonis lies.’”
“Are you saying you’re Adonis?” I teased.
“Only if you’re my Venus.” He kissed my cheek and drew away. “Allow me a moment to refresh myself before you imprison me more thoroughly.”
I didn’t want to let him go. If I did, I was afraid he would find some reason to leave, some excuse he had to return to Womby’s. Perhaps he was like Adonis, and he would have rather preferred something else over me.
He was gone for a couple minutes in the water closet, then brushing his teeth, and washing at the basin. I waited for the excuse to come, but it didn’t. He slipped back under the blankets, a little smile on his face, banishing his usual dreary mood.
“Your turn,” he said, poking me in the ribs so that I squirmed back.
“No way. The moment I get out of bed, you’re going to disappear under a mountain of papers you’ll claim you have to correct.”
He brought my fingers to his lips. “Not this morning. I cleared my schedule just for you.”
My heart did a little skip in joy. “Really?”
He nodded.
He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to a rune etched into his skin, the lines pink and puffy. “This one says, ‘Give me pain, and I’ll give you kisses.’”
“You’re teasing me?”
“Indeed.” He took my hand and brushed my fingers over the irritated lines etched into him. “Touch me here, and it will help ground me in my affinity.”
I skimmed my fingers over the tattoo. He shivered. I pressed harder. He closed his eyes and moaned. This was exactly what our relationship needed. Something for both of us.
I left him to brush my teeth and wash my face, watching him as he sat in bed, hands folded over his lap. I still expected to find him gone when I got out of the water closet, but he remained. It didn’t escape my notice that he’d undressed. The only thing separating me from him was a book he’d snatched from the nightstand and strategically placed in front of his crotch. He was thinner than I remembered. I hadn’t seen him naked except once in the last couple of weeks as he’d dressed. He was so pale that the lines of his white tattoos were invisible against his skin. The more I looked, the less certain I was that he had the same tattoos on his arms. His chest was barren of inked art. His tattoos had been wards as well as art.
“Where are you tattoos?” I asked.
“I have a fresh canvas,” he said, smoothing a hand over his chest. The pink line of scars marred his arms, interrupting the lace patterns inked into his skin.
A little smile tugged at his lips, drawing my eye. He lifted an eyebrow as he read the book on his lap.
I laughed. “Funny book?”
“I see you’ve dog-eared all the pages with the racy scenes with the Entwives.” Thatch nodded to the book so I could read the title on the spine of The Return of the Entwives. “I never knew you found plant pollination so . . . enticing.”
“I don’t! Those pages were already like that when I found the book. Vega probably read the book and marked those pages.” Plus, I didn’t dog-ear books. Not since Gertrude Periwinkle had caught me doing it and chewed me out for half an hour and threatened to hex my fingers off.
“I am unconvinced that anyone in this household read this book, let alone was aroused by trees and their reproductive cycles.”
I climbed onto the bed. “Maybe someone else marked those pages because he or she knew I would like it.”
“A bookmark would be far more practical than creasing the pages of a limited edition, which is why I’ve done a favor for you and placed my book mark in the best spot.” His grin grew broader. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t say you’re using your penis as a bookmark. As you pointed out, it’s a limited edition.”
“So is my bookmark.”
I s
hook my head at him. “I bet you think you’re hilarious.”
“Naturally.”
He pushed an actual bookmark out from between the pages, one I’d purchased years ago with a pegasus on it. I plucked the bookmark from him and then the book, marking the page and setting it on the nightstand. When I turned back to him, I saw there definitely had been a prize behind door number one.
“Now, where were we?” I circled my arms around his neck and kissed him.
“I think I was about to say something that would vex you, and you would accuse me of being grumpy and ruining—”
I pressed my lips to his before he could say more. He kept trying to speak, and I had to kiss him forcefully to stop him. He pulled me closer, his erection hard against me. I kissed a path across his neck and his chest, wanting to show him how much I had missed him.
I pulled the sheet up to his waist and scooted underneath. I kissed my way down his body. I didn’t have a lot of experience doing this. I imagined it couldn’t be too different from licking a popsicle, so I started with that.
He threaded his fingers through my hair. “This isn’t what I had in mind for the morning. I thought I was going to be pleasuring you.”
“Are you complaining?”
“No.” He relaxed back into the bed and sighed.
I must have been doing something right. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and moaned.
His moan turned to a gasp. He flinched. “Merlin’s balls.” His tone wasn’t so much pained as icy.
I thought I must have done something wrong. He tugged the sheet the rest of the way over my head.
“Good morning,” Elric said, a little too cheerily from somewhere in the room. “I suspected you were awake by now and thought I would bring you breakfast myself and gift you with my charming personality.”
