25. Auralie Starfire #2
My irritation was unwarranted. I’d tried to shield her from all financial matters in our household as much as possible, so of course she didn’t know.
But children remember.
And adults recall things differently.
The manifestation of memories in notes and coins was such a strange concept that I turned to Wrenlock for clarification with a dubious scrunch of my nose. “So you’re saying that memories of lesser value would be coins, and higher value would be notes, correct?”
I watched the microexpressions flitting across his face as he considered my question.
“Think of it more like a credit card,” he suggested at last. “Humans just like to hoard things—so you created notes and coins. But it is highly subjective, and I think that’s why you’re always running into issues because you really don’t have any idea what you’re doing.
A trip to the supermarket the day that the freezer section had run out of frozen broccoli florets may not be an important memory for someone who wasn’t planning to make a stir fry noodle dish that same night, but it will take a higher precedence for someone who was.
Unless they’re really singularly disturbed by the event, it will be the first memory they try to offer up for their next transaction over a set period of time, ergo becoming the most valuable until they deplete its worth or bank it. ”
Stir fry noodle dish.
Rolling my lips together, I tried to keep my expression composed and my mind on track.
The dark, broody, ethereal High Fae man crouched down in front of me with long, pointed ears and muscles that were carved from one of Michelangelo’s wet dreams had just looked me dead in the eyes and made a reference to a stir fry noodle dish with broccoli florets.
And I tried, but I couldn’t keep it together.
“You eat—” I broke off as an unwelcome laugh bubbled out of my mouth, causing me to choke on my words. Coughing, I did my best to reign in my expression, but the upwards curve of my lips was solidified like concrete. “You eat broccoli florets?” I laughed. “Have you ever been to a supermarket?”
He frowned, rising to his feet, but a grin slowly spread across his face as he approached me. “Oh, now you’re mocking me?” he teased.
A sequence of giggles floated out of my mouth. “Yes,” I admitted, beaming up at him. “I am.”
Why is it so hilarious?
Wrenlock’s smile made him look handsome in a much more boyish way than his usual charm, and he perched on the arm of my chair, reaching out to cup my cheek with one of his hands.
His thumb brushed the last droplet of water from the corner of my nose as he sighed my name.
“Aura, I hate broccoli. If I was human and the stores ran out of it, I’d rejoice. ”
Gazing up at him, my grin softened into a comfortable smile, and my breathing started to even out into a rhythm that matched the calm motions of his chest as it rose and fell.
Falling into his eyes and landing on the warm surface of his steady chestnut irises felt like coming home in a way that was still indescribable to me, but with his hand on my cheek, a flood of warmth that could not be replicated by anyone or anything else began to flow through my limbs.
I could’ve sworn some of the water left in my hair began to evaporate.
Someone cleared their throat. I couldn’t tell if it was Morgoya or Batre, but I inhaled a sharp gasp of air and broke the stare with the High King’s Hand. He dropped his touch from my face to my shoulder as I turned towards the two women.
Whoever it was, they were right. On the hillside, I was ready to dive through portals of unknown origins and land in dangerous, faraway places simply to remain by Lucais’s side; but by the fireplace, I was daydreaming about supermarket trips and dinner plans with Wrenlock.
I needed to pull myself together.
“Think about it like this,” Batre chimed in. “What determines the value of money? It’s not the paper it’s printed on. It’s what the owner of the memory—or the money, in your case—is willing to trade it for.”
“Because you could, theoretically, trade one very important memory of your own life for something worth several less important memories to others and appear to be quite well off financially,” Morgoya stated.
“When in actual fact you’ve lost a great deal more than you realise.
It’s quite nuanced,” she added, “but this is the basis of the concept. Our currency is memories, and we have a place in Faerie called the Memory Bank. That is where your soulmate has gone.”
A flash of shock crossed my face before I could stop it.
Morgoya had decided to forgo subtlety in order to make a point, and I felt a wave of heat emanate from Wrenlock’s hand in reply, still resting atop my shoulder.
Because he was seated behind me, I couldn’t see his expression, and neither of the women met his gaze.
My throat grew tight so I tried to clear it as I readjusted my position, folding my legs beneath me, and settled back into my chair.
“His mother was on the other side of the ward,” I confessed, although I was pretty certain they already knew.
“Do you think he’s trading in the memory of his mother tonight, or banking it? ”
“Neither of those things,” Morgoya uttered quietly, looking down at her hands folded against her waist. “I think he’s gone to make a withdrawal.”
Give her to me, or Faerie will burn.
It’s a necessary unpleasantness.
I love you, Lucais.
“What was her name?” I found myself asking.
“Raella,” Wrenlock said. I turned and caught a glimpse of his side profile above me as he stared down into the fireplace, but the distance was audible in the echoes of his voice.
He was falling worlds away, deep into the past. “His mother’s name is Raella.
His father’s name is Gage. He’s an only child. ”
Raella and Gage Starfire, I thought.
Auralie Starfire, a voice taunted back to me in my own head. It was Lucais, his bickering humour barely a whisper in his tone.
I didn’t have time to evaluate the feeling that coursed through me like a display of fireworks at the sound of his voice returning to my mind or his presence emanating from a nearby location once again. I didn’t want to categorise it, or name it, or…potentially scare it away.
“He’s back,” I said under my breath, standing from the armchair. The blanket slid to the ground behind me the same way Wrenlock’s hand fell away when I turned towards the door just in time to see the High King appear in a flash, albeit dimly lit, of grey and gold.
Leaning against the doorframe as if he was bone-weary, his expression was full of determination, and his eyes glowed with the force of a thousand suns when he looked at me and smiled wickedly. “Change of plans, little beast. We’re going to the lapsus tonight.”