8.
Moth
B y the time Ruby returns to her home, my worries are hidden deep under piles of dress-up gowns, wooden swords, and a tin tea set with an unimaginable number of stuffed toys centered around it.
I served them a lunch of sandwiches and fruit, and now the oldest are off reading stories, while the three youngest faeries are asleep, using Sprout as a pillow. I dare say this is the most content he’s looked all day. And I’ll admit that, in the time I’ve spent chasing after the five children, I have barely had a moment to consider my own problems.
“Seems like you have things under control here,” Ruby whispers from the doorway as she slides inside, shrugging off a bag filled with groceries that appear to be from the market. I smirk; apparently, she had been in no rush to return.
I nod, the gesture curt, but all I can manage. Now that it is quiet, worry tangles in my chest like a scream that I am unable to release.
“Have you made any progress?” I ask, clearing my throat.
“A list of contacts. A map of the realm. We are trying,” she says warily.
“While I sit and do nothing.”
She flicks one of the many braids on my head.
“I do not know… you seem awfully busy.” She casts an eye toward the children. “Many things can be said about me, but I have experience in dealing with tantrums.”
“You—” I blink as the realization of why Ruby and Mother had exchanged those looks hits me. “You put me in some kind of … time out?”
“You did try to strangle Oak.”
“…I thought. I do not know what I thought.” I shake my head. “Perhaps I know nothing else than how to be a monster.”
“Now, I don’t believe that for a second.”Her slender arm wraps around my waist, guiding me away from the kitchen. “You believed Oak had something to do with Heather’s disappearance. It is not unheard of—in either world—to be betrayed by someone close to us. You, my friend—” We are in the entryway of the house, standing in front of a large mirror. “—are a protector, not a monster. Why else would I trust you to watch my most precious treasures?”
“To make sure I am too exhausted to fight?” I ask, and Ruby throws her head back with laughter. We both peer around the corner to see if the sound woke the children. My heart warms at the sight of their wings fluttering as they sleep.
Ruby was my betrothed for years. It is a strange thing to know without fully remembering. If things had been different, could this have been our life? Perhaps, but I doubt I could have ever made her this happy. Not because of a fault in myself—or in us —but truly because there is only one person I was made for.
In this house, when I hear the laughter and feel its warmth, I think of a future with my flame at the center.
“Tell me, was it the right distraction… sending you here?” Ruby asks, a look on her face that suggests she already knows the answer. “You seemmore at ease.”
I nod. It was hard to live in anything but the moment with the five little faeries causing both joy and chaos around me.
“Thank you. I know stepping in to look after them was not an easy task. We all have roles and expertise we can lend. Like Oak, I am a terrible gossip, and I hope that anything I provided to the queen and Holly can help.”
“You are more than a gossip,” I assure her, admiring the home she and Pepper have created.
“And you are more than sharp teeth and claws.” She smiles. Given my decades spent among the mortals, it is easy to forget that. I have been called a harbinger of death, and death itself, in both realms. But strength can be used to help just as easily as it can hurt…
I must keep my wits about me or risk further mothering from both Ruby and Mother.
“How did you know this … change of scenery would work?”
“If it hadn’t, I would have had to resort to bribery.” She circles back to the kitchen island, the golden light casting a warm glow across her deep brown skin. She unwraps a parcel of cookies and reveals a jug of what looks like apple juice. “Everyone feels better after a snack.”
Waiting.
It goes against every instinct in my body.
Heather is strong. She is resourceful with an arsenal of cutting words and charm. She is far braver than she gives herself credit for.
Heather will be fine.
Won’t she?
It has been less than a day, and yet it feels like it’s been days since I last heard her laugh.
She can navigate this. We will find our way back to each other. We always have. We always will. Still, the thought of her facing these challenges on her own haunts me.
Holly seems … less aggravated than before; the blades have been sharpened and the soldiers have their orders. She stares up at the portrait of us as children. The cold eyes of our father stare back. Oak must finish the modernized version of our family portrait soon. Having just been surrounded by Ruby and Pepper’s children only hours ago casts a chill across my skin.
I was a child, just like those sweet faeries, undoubtably with the same toothy grin and laughter. But, as I stare up at that old painting, the small boy I once was stares back at me. How could anyone—much less a father, have raised his claws to someone so … small ?
When the ghosts from my past become too loud, Heather banishes them with a simple touch of her hand, and when that is not enough, she is quick to hand me a pen, encouraging me to work out my feelings through fiction. But the portrait is not the only thing that disturbs me. It is that the humans seem to be the only ones as distressed as I.
“It’s a shame. I grew to really enjoy Heather,” Holly murmurs as she calmly takes a seat next to Clara.
I straighten. Why is she speaking in past-tense?
“She’s not … dead.” Clara straightens. “Wait, right?”
“No, she is not dead ,” I hiss. “Why are you speaking so strangely, as if you did not declare we would see her safely only hours ago?”
“I was just thinking…” Holly trails off, her eyes still on the painting. “You have been absent from our world for decades and may not remember that this is how a great many of our love stories start. Father whisked away Mother after only sharing one dance.” She taps her feet for a moment, as if unsure whether to stay or go. “I say this with the utmost respect, but it is possible that this will change things. Such a grand gesture will surely not go unappreciated by even the most devoted. Right, Mother?”
My heart drops.
If she thinks that is romance , we have more to worry about than her murderous streak.
My little sister knows how Father stole our mother away like a thief in the night. She has heard songs detailing their romance and tragedy—a sweeping love story indeed.But clearly, she has not been privy to the other details.
Mother pales, her limbs shake like a leaf rattled by a storm. With unwavering elegance, she sweeps her hand in the air, dismissing her attendants.
“Everyone, please.” Pepper bows formally to me before addressing the rest of the group. “The royal family requests privacy as we navigate this difficult situation.” And with the grace of a lead advisor, they lead everyone away from the room, whispering reassuring words to our human friends.
“Come, I’m sure the children would love to meet a pair of humans,” they say with laughter to their voice. And just like that, the humans are ushered away, and we are alone.
Mother paces the length of the room, wringing her hands. It is unusual to see her looking fazed, much less nervous. But her eyes are far away and her forehead furrows as she walks and walks. Finally, she faces us.
“There is a part of the story I neglected to tell you children.” Her voice is strong despite the way her hands shake. Mother eyes me before giving a small nod. “Though I expect Moth already knows. I don’t imagine Heather is the type to keep a secret from you.”
I wonder if she is about to confess father’s murder to us. It is information I have obtained only because, as Mother suspected, Heather told me the first moment she could.
Mother touches the line of her fabric-covered wings, always draped in silk and lace, giving them the illusion of being larger than their true size. The color and shape is a mystery to me; even as a child she never showed them to me. She fiddles with something on the back of her dress.
“What part is that, Mother?” Holly asks, her eyes widening.
Ribbons rustle, and with a thud, her wings fall at her feet. I gasp. Such an integral part of her appearance now lies like discarded laundry on the floor.
“The part where I tried to escape.”She turns to reveal two long scars peeking out of the bottom of her low-backed gown, and the air in my lungs rushes out.
My flame. What horrors could you be enduring while we are apart?