Chapter 13
Rowan
“Rise and shine, milady. You’ve missed breakfast.”
My eyelids fluttered, rays of light trying to sneak in underneath them. Groaning, I rolled over, away from the window and the bustling maid. The weight of sleep pulled me back down and I snuggled into the blankets, my mind already sinking under—
I was fae!
All that had transpired the night before flooded in.
I was fae.
I still struggled to believe it. But really, why would I? I hadn’t even had time to accept all the rest.
I was a changeling.
I was stuck in some strange but wonderful land.
I had a brother! A twin brother at that. One who lived in a castle.
I was living a fairy tale. Just like the ones my aunt used to read to me. A real-life fairytale! How long had I been here? Three days, four? Four. And with all that had happened, I was surprised I wasn’t a blubbering mess. Okay, a small part of me was freaking out a little.
Before now, my life had been ordinary. Or so I thought.
There had been weird little things when I was younger.
Things that had contributed to my overall feeling of being different.
I’d never been sick, for one. Not once. No coughs.
No colds. No sniffles of any kind. Even when most of the children in my class had measles, I did not catch it.
My father told me it was due to his inoculations, but now, I suspected differently. Maybe I couldn’t catch human diseases.
My mind raced as all the new revelations brought about a hundred new questions.
Did I have any magical abilities?
Did my eyes glow too?
Where were my birth parents? My fae mother and father. Were they still alive?
I felt a small twinge of guilt at that thought. For even thinking of others as my mother and father. But then I assured myself that my actual parents had kept my heritage from me all this time. My aunt too. Though she had told me. Eventually.
There were other things my father had explained away, I remembered.
Things like my ability to manipulate my dreams. Even as a child, I was always able to control my dreams. I would simply think of what I wanted to dream about before falling asleep, and it would come to life.
If I wanted to, every night I could continue the same dream.
Directing the dialogue, choosing the characters, creating a series of episodes that played out in my sleep.
My parents never had this ability, so they said, and I hadn’t questioned it, my father brushing it off as inconsequential.
But my friends had looked at me strangely and it had eventually gotten around my school that I was weird in that way.
They called me the Dreamer. Which wasn’t so bad, but that turned into Screamer, then Wiener, then other horrible names that ate into my confidence. I hadn’t talked about it since.
But now I wondered if it was a result of latent fae abilities.
I had come to realise my parents kept me quite sheltered.
I never really went anywhere without them.
Even when it came to my moving out, there had been a discussion about it.
We had sat at the kitchen table, the one that was for family, not the big one in the formal dining room, and talked about what it would mean for me to move to London. What I would do and where I would go.
I think they wanted to make sure I had no plans to travel north.
Their fear that I would disappear into the woods and never return was validated now that it had actually come true.
Looking back on the conversation, I could see they were trying to protect me, but all I can remember thinking at the time was that I was being smothered.
That I needed to prove to myself that I could live independently of them.
My aunt must be distraught. Surely, she would have realised by now that I was missing.
When she hadn’t been able to contact me, she would have made enquiries, I was certain of that.
The first hotel I had listed on my imagined itinerary in Edinburgh would have confirmed I wasn’t a guest there and never had been.
Would she have called the police? Once she had learnt I’d been in Lochinver, would she have guessed what had happened?
That her and my parents’ worst fear had come true?
My heart ached at the thought of Sarah being left alone. But there was nothing I could do about that. Not for another six months at least. I couldn’t ignore the overwhelming feeling of belonging, either.
Unanswered questions continued to hound me. What of the child? The one I’d been swapped with? My namesake – Rowan. Would I find him here, or had he returned already, not knowing who his parents were? Was he still alive? Had he survived? Sarah had mentioned he’d been unwell.
I lay in bed quietly, my mind racing with conflicts and uncertainties as Jesmina bustled about the room. I could hear her opening drawers and cupboards and wondered what she was up to. I was staring absently at the canopy above my head when the bed curtains were pulled back.
“Good, you’re awake. Get up now. We have no time to waste. His Lordship has returned, and he will be wanting – oh, I see you’ve already met him,” she said, staring at my ears.
“What do you mean?”
“Your glamour. It’s gone. Only you or His Lordship could remove it, and I don’t think you know quite how to do it yourself.
Nothing to fuss over, I’m sure you’ll learn quickly.
” She hurried me out of bed and over to the screen in the corner, a pitcher of water and a bowl waiting on the table.
“Out of your nightclothes, now, and have a wash.”
Shedding my nightgown while eyeing the dreaded bedpan, I asked, “Jesmina? How did you know what I was? Before now, that is. You don’t seem too surprised.”
She hesitated before answering. “Well, I guess it’s like how you would know when someone is other. You felt normal to me, see. Whereas those who usually cross over feel odd, different.”
I pondered that for a moment, wondering if what I had been feeling all these years was actually other people’s otherness, turning it around so that it was an insecurity about myself.
Another thought came to mind as I replayed her words. “How did you know it was Aenan who removed the glamour?”
“Ahh, only those with the same blood as the one who placed it can remove it. Everyone knows that.”
“My family glamoured me?” I asked, wondering why they would do that.
“Yes,” was all she said.
When I finished my toilette, I stepped out from behind the screen. Jesmina was waiting for me, a clean shift in her hands. “Can you tell me about them? My parents – I assume they are dead?”
“I’m thinking that might be something you need to ask your brother. It’s not my story to tell. What I can say is your mother was a kind and gentle female who loved you very much. She was heartbroken when you left.”
“But why did I leave?”
Jesmina only shook her head, her lips tight, so like my mother. My human one.
“What can you tell me?”
She sat me in front of the mirror and started to brush my braid out.
There was a faraway look on her face, like she was thinking on my question.
Her hands automatically worked the brush through my hair, softly stroking, stroking, stroking.
Finally, she locked eyes with me and began to recount a tale.
“Many moons ago, in a castle nestled between rolling hills and lush forests, there came into the world two extraordinary babes. A brave little girl and a fiery little boy, born within minutes of each other, on Beltane eve.”
I imagined the grand castle, the one I was sitting in, with its towering spires and elaborate gardens, and the two babies rocking in their cradles.
“They had the most striking red hair. Rich like the autumn leaves that fell from the trees. And eyes so blue it was like looking into the depths of a cool mountain stream. Their arrival was greeted with much joy and excitement throughout the town, for never before had such radiant-haired infants been born in the village.”
Her eyes sparkled with memories as she continued.
“The townsfolk were captivated by the pair, showering them and their parents with affection whenever they visited. Merchants would stop them in the market, offering treats, just to admire the infants’ shining locks.
Elders of old would reminisce on stories from days of yore. Ones ripe with legends and prophecies.”
I could almost taste the sweet treats from the market and hear the old tales being shared.
“But as the months passed by, it became evident the little girl and the little boy possessed a special bond. A bond that surpassed mere sibling connection. They were inseparable, and although too young to wander themselves, they would fuss and cry if put apart. But when together, their big blue eyes sparkled with mischief and wonder, and they would stare at each other for hours, leading the mother to believe they shared a spirit connection.”
My heart ached at the thought of those twin babes being torn apart. I couldn’t imagine a world where they were not together, and was so wrapped up in the story that I nearly asked what happened to them. But of course, I knew how it ended. Just not how it got there.
“You knew me when I was a baby?” I asked, filled with surprise, watching Jesmina in the reflection.
“Yes, milady,” she replied. “I was your nursemaid. I cared for you and your brother until you were six months old.”
My mind couldn’t comprehend how this young female could have been my caregiver. “But you barely look older than me! How can that be?”
“Why, thank you, milady, but you’d be surprised. The fae age slower than those in the Human Realm,” she explained.
“How old are you?” I blurted out, before covering my mouth with my hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That was awfully rude of me. Please don’t answer.”
She laughed, a husky sound that filled the room. “It’s all right, milady. I’m happy to tell. I have seen more than one hundred and fifty winters, so I have.”
My mouth fell open as I took in her youthful appearance. She smiled at me in the mirror, a twinkle in her eye, so I smiled back. I thought I was going to get along with Jesmina. No. I was certain.
The moment was broken when a voice, one I was beginning to dislike, sounded in my head.
Come on, lazy bones – are you going to lie about in bed all day, or are you going to come spend some quality time with your brother?
Oh, go away! I yelled back at him.
Make me.
I made a rude gesture in my head, hoping he could see it. An answering laugh that faded away into the back of my mind was all the reply I needed.