Freed from Gravity (Bound and Freed #2)

Chapter 3

Three

SENAN

NINETEEN YEARS AGO

Has anyone ever noticed how, if you lift your legs up in the air and peer through your lashes, it looks like you’re walking on the ceiling? My ceiling is pretty nice, with those little swirly things around the fae lights and along the wall. Much nicer than the floor. Marble is so cold and hard. And if you fall on it? That hurts like hell. Why don’t they decorate floors like they do ceilings? Come to think of it…why do they decorate ceilings? I’ve been in this room since I was little and I’ve never, not once, noticed the ceiling. What a thankless job.

“What are you doing, you bollocks?” My brother Aeron’s voice cuts like broken glass, and I drop my feet back onto the bed. “Everyone’s waiting.”

So am I, but nothing seems to be happening. I thought surely today would be the day. After all, it is my seventh birthday and stupid Aeron got his when he turned six.

“I’m getting ready.” I roll off the bed and stuff my feet into my boots.

Aeron snorts. It’s his new “thing.” He probably thinks it makes him sound like father. I think he sounds like a pig. “Really? Because it looked like you were panned out on the bed, crying like a ninny.”

I’m not a ninny. Aeron is a ninny. “I wasn’t crying.” Even if I was, it’s none of his business, is it? I fumble with the stupid buckle on my stupid boot, but the thing won’t fasten.

With a roll of his eyes, Aeron kneels to help me even though I don’t need his help. “Tell that to your red eyes and all those tears on your face.”

What’s he on about? I don’t have any tears on my face. I already wiped them all away. I kick him off me, biting back my smile when he falls flat on his arse. “Who’s the ninny now?”

His perfect black wings appear at his back, and my smile vanishes. Aeron stands up, shoves my shoulder, and says, “See you at the party.” Then he takes off from the balcony, his wings spreading like feathered freedom as he shoots into the sunset.

Do I get to fly to my own damn party? No. I get to walk like a big baby.

I’m seven years old. Where are my wings?

By the time I reach Mother’s parlor, my legs ache from tiredness. The guards waiting outside see me coming and open the doors with a bow.

“Happy birthday!” everyone shouts in unison, my mother’s voice ringing the clearest. Probably because she’s the only female in the room.

Rhainn slips off her lap and runs over, throwing his arms around my waist. “Happy birthday, brother,” he says, still unable to pronounce his “Rs” properly. Not a good thing for someone named Rhainn.

Must he be so irritating? And why does he always smell like peppermint? “Let me go.”

Mother clears her throat. “Senan? What do you say?”

“Let me go, please.”

Her pretty black hair glistens in the fae light when she shakes her head. The way her lips press together reminds me of the time I got into trouble for filling Aeron’s boots with mud. Which, by the way, he absolutely deserved.

Ugh. Fine. “Thank you, Rhainn.”

My little brother grins up at me, a gap where his front teeth should be. When he finally lets me go, I glance around the room, searching for the one person who seems to be missing. “Where’s Father?”

Mother’s smile wobbles. “He wanted to be here, really, he did. But he got called away for a very important meeting.”

Father is always called away for something more important. Thank the stars I’ll never have to be king. When I’m a father, I’m never going to miss a birthday. Not even one.

Mother had the servants set the table with the fancy gold plates we save for important occasions, so that almost makes up for it. Maybe she’ll let me have some wine with my cake. I am seven now, after all.

I hurry past the table to where Aeron and Boris wait next to the pile of colorful presents. Rhainn trails behind me like a shadow, but I’m way faster because he spends all his time sitting around in the silly library reading books.

“Hi, Boris.” My eldest brother is so tall—almost taller than Father. I hope I’m as tall as Boris when I’m fifteen.

Boris smiles, tousling my hair the way Father does. My eyes start to burn a bit, but I don’t want Aeron to call me a ninny again, so I blink my tears away.

“Hey there, little lad.” Boris’s voice is so deep too. I hope my voice is that deep one day. Most of all, I hope I have great big wings, just like him.

“Any sign of them yet?” Boris whispers.

“Not yet.” I check every morning I wake up and every night I go to bed, and there isn’t so much as a feather.

“Chin up. They’ll be here soon. I can tell.”

Aeron pushes off the wall with a grin. “And when they do show up, they’ll probably be piss yellow.”

“Aeron Timothy Vale, you apologize to your brother this instant,” Mother clips from across the room.

“I’m sorry,” Aeron mutters, even though I can tell he doesn’t mean it.

Boris slings his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “They won’t be yellow. They’ll be black like the rest of us Vales’.”

Black is fine, but I wouldn’t mind a different color. Like red. Or blue. Purple could be nice too. Just not piss yellow.

“But Senan isn’t a Vale,” Aeron says under his breath. “Remember when Mother found him by the rubbish bin?”

She didn’t find me by a rubbish bin…did she? Of course she didn’t. Aeron is such a lying liar. “At least I was in the castle. They found you in the stables next to a pile of Pegasus shite.”

Aeron’s smirk vanishes.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” Mother says with a sigh. “Senan, since we’re celebrating your birthday, you get to decide what’s first: Cake or presents?”

I do love cake, but… “Presents.”

“Open mine first,” Rhainn squeaks, making me jump.

I forgot he was behind me. “Fine.”

He sprints over to the stack of gifts and removes a small square from the very top. I bet it’s a book.

He hands it over, and I drop to the floor with all my brothers surrounding me. I tear through the wrapping paper and—oh, look. A book. The same present he gives me every year.

“Thank you, Rhainn,” Mother whispers with a stern look.

“Thank you, Rhainn,” I repeat so she doesn’t scold me.

Rhainn scoots closer. “You’re welcome. It’s my favorite fairytale from all the way in the human realm about an evil witch.”

Sounds awful. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“Mine next!” Aeron’s shoulder knocks mine as he drags a present from the middle, sending the rest of the boxes tumbling all over the floor.

He shoves the box onto my lap. Did he wrap this? It’s awful. Why did he use so much twine? The box takes me ages to open but when I finally manage, I throw open the lid and?—

The smell hits me like a punch in the face.

What in heaven’s name?

Aeron bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach and flopping onto the floor.

A scream tears from my throat as I shove the box away, the sound of my brother’s maniacal laughter echoing through my head. He put a bloody fish in a box.

“I hate you.” Even when I ball up my fist and punch Aeron in the arm, he still doesn’t stop laughing. Let’s see how he likes it when I put this box under his pillow tonight.

Mother waves one hand while pressing the other to her nose. “Someone, please remove this!”

One of the servants rushes from the alcove, taking the fish in the box through the servants’ stairs.

“That’s it, Aeron. No cake for you.”

Aeron finally stops laughing.

“You know poor Senan is afraid of fish,” Mother goes on.

“I’m not afraid.” Did no one else notice how vile that thing smelled? Did they not see its big, bulging eyes? Who in their right mind would like fish? They’re the mad ones, if you ask me.

Mother pats my head. “Of course not, dear.”

Aeron tucks his hands under his armpits and scowls as I reach for the next present.

“That one’s from me,” Boris says with a nudge to my shoulder. He even put on a silver bow that matches the shiny silver paper. Now this is how you wrap a present.

I take off the paper and sniff—just in case. Not that Boris has ever played a joke on me, but there’s always a first time for everything.

No gross fishy smell, thank the gods.

Rhainn pushes closer, peering over my shoulder. “What is it?”

I remove the lid and withdraw a bottle from within. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s oil. For your wings,” Boris explains.

“But I don’t have wings.”

When he smiles, I find myself smiling as well. “Don’t worry. They’re coming.”

Rhainn grabs my arm and I’m about to tell him to back off when he points toward the window. “Look! It’s almost nightfall.”

Mother turns, her beautiful face painted in golden light as the last of the sun’s rays fall below the pink clouds. “Better hurry. It’s almost time for your wish.”

The most important part of any birthday celebration—more important than presents and cake combined: the birthday wish. Every year on the anniversary of your birth, you get to go out onto the balcony all by yourself and make a wish on the first star you see.

Boris leaps up, offering to help me to my feet as well. His hand engulfs mine as he leads me to the open doors. “Do you know what you want?” he asks quietly so that only I can hear.

“Yes.” I’m going to wish for the same thing I’ve been wishing since Aeron got his wings on his sixth birthday.

His hand slips from mine. “Go on then. Make your wish.”

I step onto the balcony and lift my gaze toward the navy-blue band of night stretching across the sky. My back beings to itch, but I ignore the irritation, searching for the first star.

Something flickers in my peripherals, a shimmering silver ball of light.

“I want wings,” I whisper to that star and any of the others hiding in the heavens. “But please don’t make them piss yellow.” Not sure if that counts as a second wish or not.

Better safe than sorry.

The damn itching behind my shoulders gets worse.

I swear, if Aeron put Toxicodendron on my sheets again, I’m going to cover his bed in spider eggs.

Unable to stand it any longer, I reach behind my shoulder to scratch my back.

That’s when I feel a bump.

Not just one bump… Two !

“My wings…” They’re finally here! I turn on my heel to see my mother and Rhainn and Aeron and Boris all standing in the doorway, their smiles bright despite the fading light.

“They’ve been there since you came in, you ninny,” Aeron says with a laugh.

They have? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Then I could’ve used my wish for something else. “How do I make them as big as yours?” I ask Boris. Wait … “What color are they?” Please don’t be piss yellow. Please don’t be piss yellow.

Boris chuckles. “Don’t worry, Senan. They’re black.”