Chapter 14 #2
I stared at my hands, surprised they were humanoid and not tipped in branches and leaves. “Is Necromancer Boone aware of what happened?” To my knowledge, Erasmus Boone was the only individual alive that could potentially defeat a djinn.
“I do not know,” Keir answered. “It’s possible. Instead of going through his father, Warlock Holland, to get Peaches phone number, I contacted Frost. I am uncertain what, if anything, the pixie’s told Erasmus Boone.”
With a nod, I stared off into the distance. The wyvern eggs caught in my peripheral vision. They truly were beautiful. Changing the subject back to our current catastrophe, I asked, “What do you think Huxley planned on doing with them?”
“The eggs?” Keir rightly guessed. At my nod, he shook his head.
“I am uncertain beyond using them for his own gain. None of us know how old the eggs are. My understanding is that wyvern eggs can lay dormant for centuries. They require a constant, heated flame to fully develop and hatch. I suspect Huxley’s intention behind their usage could have changed as his plans changed.
Given how old Hikaru is and that Huxley stole him from Inari, I believe it is safe to say that Huxley plotted far longer than any of us wish to believe. ”
“From the very start,” I quietly pondered. “From the very first inclination regarding creating the Magical Usage Council. I do not believe Tenzen ever truly meant the council for good.”
“Sadly, I agree. However, that does not mean the Magical Usage Council has never done good.”
I considered those words and found they eased a little of the constant turmoil roiling within my gut.
“That’s true.” The Magical Usage Council had stepped in when Fairy seemed unwilling, when Fairy thought the issues too small to intervene.
We’d also helped enforce Fairy law, at least to a degree, often attempting to mitigate a situation before Fairy found it necessary to become involved.
Fairy was unforgiving. There were no gray zones.
The law was black-and-white, and the punishment for breaking that law was often severe.
Comfortable quiet filled the room again.
Keir’s eyelids were barely open. If not for the sliver of amber peeking out between sandy lashes, I would have thought him asleep.
His next words ended that peaceful silence.
“Given that Grayson Delarue is still in one piece after finding the wyvern eggs, I assume things are working out between the two of you.” The barest smirk tilted Keir’s lips.
Cheeks flushed, I stared at my hands again, picking at my nails. Clearing my throat, I bobbed my head once. “It was a bit rough going at first, but I think I figured out what to do, what Gray needs.”
“Gray?”
My flush deepened. “He said it’s okay to call him that.” I’d also refused when first given the opportunity.
“Indeed.”
Keir’s smirk grew, and I huffed. “He’s maybe not as bad as I first thought.”
A bark of laughter escaped Keir, the sound sorely missed over these past few months. “Not as bad, huh? That all?”
My mouth opened and closed as my hand rubbed over my chest, Gray’s spark of magic fluttered about, tickling my insides.
“He’s…” I wasn’t certain how to end that statement.
My mind supplied numerous words. Strong.
Dependable. Kind. Warm. Beautiful. The list went on and on, all the words complimentary in one way or another.
In the end, I finished with an entirely inadequate “not what I thought he was.”
Keir’s eyebrow winged up. “No? He’s not a will-o’-the-wisp?”
I gave Keir a withering look. “Stop being obtuse. Of course he is, and you know that’s not what I meant.”
This time, Keir’s chuckle sounded from deep within his chest. “No, I know.” Keir’s gaze traveled to the eggs again. “Assuming we survive all this, what do you think about offering Grayson a permanent position within the council?”
My body physically jolted. I shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet I was. “You would consider that?”
“I would,” Keir answered with a solid nod. “I can think of a hundred and one situations where his abilities would be useful. Not sure he’d accept though.”
I cringed. “We are kind of a mess right now.”
“That and will-o’-the-wisps aren’t terribly social.
They’re loners. Not that they’re completely isolated, just that they don’t often stay in one place for long.
Maybe they’re not loners so much as wanderers.
” Keir cocked his head to the side, as if contemplating the correct vernacular when it came to will-o’-the-wisps.
I hadn’t allowed myself to contemplate whether or not Gray would stay long term. I’d satisfied myself by knowing that weeding out Huxley’s secrets was bound to take weeks, if not months. Gray had committed to the job and wouldn’t leave before it was complete.
But staying longer… Could that really be in the cards? Would Gray want to stay, or would he bolt as soon as the job was over? Was there a big enough incentive to make him stay?
I continued staring at my hands, allowing my fingers to branch, baby oak leaves unfurling at their tips. Could I be enough? A stuffy oak dryad? My chest grew heavy and a weight settled deep in my belly as doubt filled me.
Right now, an anchor was what Gray needed.
Anchors gave stability, but they also kept one in place.
Keir was right. Will-o’-the-wisps were born to wander while dryads had to return to their birth soil.
We were two species with very disparate core needs.
Currently, those needs aligned, but they wouldn’t always. The question was, what happened then?