Chapter Thirty-One #2
“Yes! Lyra had taken me outside to the gardens, and we came across them in one of the smaller training rings. Calliope looked like she was trying to teach Cillian something, but they didn’t have any weapons.
When Lyra and I showed up, Cillian seemed like he was already frustrated, but Calliope made him shake my hand anyway while we were being introduced.
But then he yanked my glove off and kept refusing to give it back!
He thought I was scared of getting my hands dirty, I think. ”
Both Teagan’s and Byn’s eyes widened as they listened to Margo recall her time away from them.
“You have them back now, though. I hope you showed him who’s boss,” Byn said as he took both of her gloved hands in his and squeezed.
“Try not to worry. You shouldn’t run into him again, as we’re leaving in the morning. But if you see him again, steer clear, alright?” Teagan advised.
“Oh, I will. His colors were all wrong, anyway,” Margo responded, sounding as though seeing the young prince again was the very last thing she’d ever want to do.
“Colors?” I finally spoke up after a wingbeat of silence.
At that one word, both of the older Thorntiers’ eyes widened as their heads snapped my way.
They looked as though they were quickly realizing they’d made some sort of mistake, though I wasn’t sure what.
I’d simply assumed it was Margo using her wild imagination, but at their reaction, I was beginning to have doubts.
Even Margo looked regretful a moment later.
Byn sighed and hung his head, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Teagan warned him, “Don’t.”
“She was going to find out eventually, Teagan. We hide it well, but our parents hid it better. Plus, if Viva knows, then at least that’s one more pair of eyes that can help us keep a more watchful eye on Margo,” Byn explained.
At that, Teagan pursed her lips and looked back toward her sister. “It’s alright,” she reassured Margo. “Go see what colors Viva has.”
The young female looked at each of her siblings, who nodded and encouraged her to head my way. Seeming to feel more confident, Margo bounded over to me. Taking my hand in her gloved one, she tugged me down to her level.
Kneeling, I watched as she unclasped her right glove at the wrist and slowly slid it off, letting it fall to the floor next to us.
She held her pale hand out toward the side of my face. I realized then that I couldn’t recall a time where she had been without gloves on.
“May I?” she asked, her hand a short breath away from my cheek.
She’d been in a similar position with Ezra not too long ago.
Whatever this was, I could only assume the unofficial member of the Thorntier family also knew.
Nodding slightly, I placed my hand over hers as she brought it to my face. Our eyes locked as she ran her thumb over the skin of my cheek, but I remained still.
Waiting.
Within seconds, Margo’s gaze wandered away from mine, slipping to the space around me. The very air I was existing in seemed to be extremely fascinating to her all of a sudden, though I didn’t understand why.
“She’s a soft lavender,” Margo said after a moment, her eyes still searching the air around my figure. “With a mixture of all kinds of shades of blue. And a faint texture—like snow, or a fluffy cloud!”
“What… What is this?” I asked, tilting my head to look past her and toward Byn and Teagan.
“Margo sees the world differently than most fae,” Byn started.
“When she touches things—or sometimes when things touch her, specifically her skin—she sees all sorts of things. Colors, shapes, textures. You name it, she sees it,” Teagan carried on.
“But why hide it? If anything, it sounds like an awesome ability.” I shifted my gaze back to Margo as she slid her hand from my face and into the ends of my hair.
Feeling another texture—something different than before—I realized.
“It’s an unreliable ability that can affect her judgement on those around her—like how she did with the young prince, Cillian. She won’t forget the colors she saw around him anytime soon, believe me,” Teagan explained.
“Plus, we want her to live as much of a normal life as she can. If she didn’t wear her gloves, our parents feared she’d become far too distracted by things that weren’t really there.
The leather of the gloves, she says, is a very faint color—one that’s almost unnoticeable—so it’s the best we can do for her,” my husband said, running a hand through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes.
“When she was younger, the trokavs said they’d never seen it before, but that it didn’t seem to harm her.
Still, it started to exhaust her—seeing things all the time. Hence why we limit it now.”
I supposed that made sense. If Margo was constantly touching everyday objects, I imagined she’d become overwhelmed very quickly with different visuals only she could see.
She might even be deemed insane by some, if it became bad enough.
And that would not bode well for what was left of the Thorntier family.
No wonder they don’t want this getting out, I thought.
As Margo reached forward to touch my dress next, I gently grabbed her hand out of the air and held it in my own. Drawing her attention to me, I smiled softly.
“You have a lovely gift, Margo. But I fear our world isn’t ready to handle it,” I said gently as I retrieved her glove from the floor.
“When will it?” she asked, her big brown eyes peering into my mismatched ones.
“You’ll know when it’s time. I promise.”
Touching her skin as little as possible, I helped secure her glove over her hand once again. Not seeming to quite understand the gravity of her reality, she smiled up at me.
The gap in her toothy smile was slowly leveling out as a new tooth grew in.
Unable to help myself, I leaned over and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, affection for the young female overflowing within me.
And as Margo turned back to face her siblings, I caught Teagan’s and Byn’s eyes as I made the motion of sealing my lips shut and tossing out the key.