15.
Heather
I want to lash out with my claws and cut through the ghostly pale flesh of his neck. With a deep breath, I steady myself with a deep breath; every inch of me starts to shake as I fight against my instincts. I don’t know how our deal works.
If I hurt him —what will happen to me ?
Another growl erupts from my lips as I fight against the urge to slice through him. Exhaustion builds as the room goes from red to black to red to black.
The way my bones push and pull inside my body makes me curl in on myself, and I collapse onto the floor. Still shifted, I shake, balling my talon-tipped hands into fists.
I could tear every inch of this castle down, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
“Deep breath—in and out,” Magnus urges. “The anger isn’t you, sweet Heather. Listen to my voice.”
I stare up at him, trying to blink the red from my eyes. As much as I want to give into my frustration, I can’t let myself do anything I’m going to regret, and with the way I’m already shaking with exhaustion…
“Now, think of a place—something to ground you—where you can let your armor fall and just be yourself.” Images flicker through my mind: Moth and I lying in bed or relaxing on the couch. But, even after two years, the vision of Chris with rope in his hands creeps back into my head. Scales and feathers poke out of my skin, and my jaw becomes so tight I worry it’ll stretch into a beak.
It fucking hurts. Worse than the tension I feel when my wings are hidden beneath my skin. Under the calm surface, is this what shifting feels like for Moth too? He always makes it so easy and—ah! The feeling of bones expanding makes me double over. I pat my dress, searching for my fragmented Mothman keychain as something to comfort me and find nothing. My head continues to spin with memories I can’t forget. The smell of sawdust suddenly overwhelms everything else.
“Please—focus, darling.” Magnus’s voice snaps me back to the reality. The two of us alone in his bedroom. Another captor who thinks they know what’s best for me.
This is me, and it’s not, and I don’t know what to do. Panic grips my lungs as my face begins to contort, then settle, and shift again.
“ Not there ,”he says. It would sound like an order if it wasn’t so panicked. I shake my head, the fear and anger building over and over again. Where would I go, if I could be anywhere right now?“You need to picture a place where you can let your armor fall and just be yourself.”
The field of flowers.
The first place that felt like a date.
I breathe in the scent, remembering the way his body looked sprawled out among the blooms. The sharp contrast of Moth’s claws as he stroked the petals made it all that much more appealing.
The scent of garden mums and canna lilies tickle my nose as soft blades of grass graze the backs of my thighs. I think and focus and dream of that small slice of heaven that feels so much like home.
The place where I knew for sure I loved Moth and I hoped he would love me back.
Our lips touched, soft and sweet, with a need to be filled for the rest of our lives. His body and mine among the flowers, hands and mouths entertained for as long as faeries live.
I’ll never tire of him.
As I breathe sharply, I am dimly aware of the sensation of shrugging off the weight of an oversized sweater—I am lighter but so very cold. Magnus grips my hand and I pretend with everything in me that it’s Moth.
“That’s it.” Magnus’s voice is a cruel reminder that I’m a world away from my future husband.
I let go of his hand in an instant, and my body begins to collapse into itself. The warmth of Magnus’s heavy black cloak falls over my shoulders before skin replaces my feathers, and I’m thankful for the sliver of modesty. As my legs shake, I wrap the garment around myself. But I’m still raging—my arms covered in feathers, and my eyes bursting with fireworks.
“There… your beauty restored.”
“You’re such a—” I whisper, unable to finish the sentence before sleep takes me. Asshole .
When I wake up, I’m in the same room. Fresh clothing and a tray of food sits at the bedside, and, to my relief, I’m alone. The cloak is still wrapped around me, which suggests Magnus carefully moved me to the bed without being a creep. Still, I slip into the yellow chemise that’s been laid out on a chair.
Everything hurts.
Is it like this when Moth shifts? He always changes shape effortlessly, but I feel like I just pounded three margaritas and then tried to do CrossFit.
I reach for the tray of food, confident by this point that the food isn’t poisoned. Sitting cross-legged in bed, I eat.
I don’t think I liked, well… any of that . The new shape of my body—though powerful and comfortable—was overshadowed by the sharp rage that threatened to eat through me with every passing second. If Magnus hadn’t talked me down, I might have actually hurt him. God, I wanted to—and kinda wish I had.
But when the insufferable vampire king arrives to check on me, he’s holding a cup of that pink-tinted almond tea. I debate for a moment on whether to tell him to go away. I’m not above kicking him out of his own bedroom if I have to…
“How did you learn to do that?” I ask, unable to help myself. “To change back, I mean…”
“I cannot take credit for the tea, one of the maids brewed it at my request and—” He rambles, setting the tea cup on the end table.
“I’m talking about shifting back…” I clarify because he wouldn’t have been able to talk me through that frazzled guided meditation without at least some experience. I look at the area his wings should be. “Was it before you started wearing a glamour?”
He steps backward. I can’t help but notice that he’s keeping his distance, and the extra breathing room is a nice change of pace.
“The sight of … abnormalities among my kind is not exactly celebrated,” he said, fiddling with his necklace; it must be his glamour. “Neither court enjoyed looking upon them. Their sneers of distain were enough motivation to learn. Was this your first time?”
“I’ve done minor things before, but nothing like that,” I answer honestly. There’s no use trying to hide it. I’ve seen his wings and know he’s either hiding them or using a glamour. It seems unfair that it’s something his court won’t accept. As pissed as I am, I’ll admit they’re pretty–and the color matched his violet eyes perfectly.
He’s essentially photoshopping himself because of comments he’s received his whole life—and damn, if that’s not something I can sympathize with.
“You probably have more experience,” I say, eyeing him. Is there a version of him he loathes even more than this? Something that might actually be worth breaking mirrors over?
“Even still, I have never…” He swallows hard. “If I have a form like yours—I would not want to know it.”
“Seriously?” I snap. “No offense, but you seem like the type who would want more power, not less.”
“I do not want to offend.”
“As if anything you could say would make me hate you more.” I cross my arms as an uncomfortable feeling washes over me. I realize it’s his bed I’ve taken over.
“Beauty is power,” he says with a small shrug, as if it’s not something to be debated. “I have never found the forms the Moths and Bumbles take … appealing. I’ve made it clear your aesthetics, shall we say, are one of the reasons I’ve been drawn to you.”
“Is that why when I turned back you said my beauty had been restored?” I ask, and he simply nods.
“Don’t you think that’s shallow? Like, think about it. If we do find some mortal to set you up with, she’ll grow old. Marriage is in sickness and health—”
“Mortal vows are meaningless in the world of faeries and monsters. The woman in question would become a vampire.” He sighs. “I’m sure your fiancé would agree with the sentiment.”
“Considering we were about to have a mortal wedding—no, I don’t think he would,” I huff.Moth would accept me no matter what. I know that.
“He turned you, didn’t he?”Magnus says, and though he’s still keeping his distance, his gaze is dagger sharp.
“He didn’t have a choice,” I bristle. “I told you; this isn’t my first time being kidnapped.”
“What happened the first time, Heather?” he asks, closer now.
“None of your business!” I cut him off, my claws sharpening into points. He reaches out, but falls short of actually touching me. Still, there’s a seriousness about him I’m not used to. Protective.
“But if there was another suitor—someone who you still pine for—someone your fiancé hurt.” Magnus’s sentences are choppy as he tries to work out the details of my past. Unfortunately the clueless vampire king is once again using a set of pieces that don’t belong to the right game. He’s right that someone stole me away from Moth—but it wasn’t something I wanted, and neither is this.
Rage boils in my chest.
“Look, I understand being kidnapped by a faerie is some kind of problematic Old World form of flattery here, but he was a human. It was not romantic—it was terrible, and invasive, and he broke into my house, okay?!” The rant bursts from my lips, and I close my arms protectively around my chest. “Normally, being stolen away in the night is a fucking bad thing, okay?”
“Yes, but you are unhappy, aren’t you?” He blinks—and he really is stuck on that, isn’t he? “I saw the far away stare you wore when you stood next to your betrothed. One my presence replaced with a smile. This rescue was for your well-being.”
“My first kidnapper thought it was for my own good too. He thought Moth had some kind of mind control over me,” I say, touching the places on my wrist where I still remember being bound with rope. “He used me for bait to try to catch Moth, okay? I was tied up in a damn barn like a piece of meat and—and—” Tears burn my eyes too fast for me to blink them away.
“Is that why you thought I had captured you? To get to him?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“And now you’re here.”
“Now I’m here,” I echo, wishing I could just become numb to this whole thing.
“I do not want you to feel that pain again—” Magnus says in a low voice I suppose he intends to be reassuring. “You cannot be taken again while cloaked in the shadows or at my side. I promise I will keep you safe from every threat.”
“You are the threat.”
He draws back as if wounded, shaking his head.
“I know you said the tower was your refuge—but mine is a cabin in the woods surrounded by trees—with the man I love,” I admit. God, am I just too exhausted to have a filter? I shouldn’t be telling him any of this. Maybe it’s the bargain chipping away at my resolve but I can’t stop myself. “I need to get back to Moth and tell him about all this shifting stuff. He’ll know what to do.”
“In time, you’ll be able to suppress that form.”
“The rage? Sure, hopefully.” I shrug. “Everything else, I think might just be a part of adjusting to all of this. Most of the Moth region can transform on command so I guess, one day, I’ll probably be able to…”
“But why would you want to?” Magnus makes a face, I know he’s all about aesthetics or whatever, but could he take a break from being shallow until the end of this conversation?
“That’s really close-minded of you.” I run my fingers through the soft waves of my hair, remembering how they felt as downy feathers.
“It would be a disservice to deprive you of my honesty.” He shrugs.
“But you can deprive me of my freedom?” I shoot back, glaring. If we have one more circular conversation, I’m going to scream.
“Touché’” His reply is paired with a wince, and I wonder if I’m actually getting somewhere. Though, knowing Magnus, it’s doubtful.
“What about Gil?” I ask, still stuck on this obsession with beauty.
Magnus tenses, the way you would if I had spoken poorly about a family member.
“Heather, now is hardly the time. I will send for your clothing, some water, and we will get you into—”
“Gil. Is he beautiful?” I press.
“For all intents and purposes, he is a giant fish person.” He laughs, and his fingers brush the hair away from his face in a movement that looks nervous. “You should see his glamour; in skin, he is the strangest of things.”
What a rude thing to say about a friend, and worst of all, I can tell he thinks it’s true. I fight with myself, unsure of what is a thought and what’s said out loud. I want to tell Magnus not everything has to be beautiful to have value—and I get how rich that is coming from someone who buys impractical kitchen appliances just because they’re pretty. But doesn’t he know that there’s beauty in everything?
“Now that we are speaking…” Magnus says, his expression turning sheepish. “I have something else to ask you.”
“Great,” I groan.
“Tell me what was wrong with the date. Tell me how to fix it.” He sits next to me like we’re teenagers gossiping instead of… whatever the hell is going on here.
I frown. How can I be strategic with whatever conversation is about to happen? Despite cracking through Magnus’s surface, he still has no intention of letting me go. Even if I can’t escape—I can maybe change the playing field.
“I mean, that was lovely, but you’ll probably have to start smaller if you’re dating a mortal.”
“Smaller?” Magnus’s eyes dance with curiosity. “Where would you suggest?”
“Can we go anywhere?”
“As long as it is with me, of course.”
“Then take me to a portal. If you’re going to date a human, we should practice in my realm,” I conclude.
“You are persistent but exhausted. Rest, then I will take you wherever you desire,” he says, and my heart leaps.
“I think you’re wrong about Gil, by the way. He was charming.” I hate to admit it, but Magnus is right. Even though I just woke up, I feel like I could sleep for a week. “I hope things work out with him and Marina.”
“Love between a creature and a human—do you really think it would work?” His voice is far away now.
“Of course I do.” I smile as I twist the engagement ring on my finger. “I’m in love with Mothman.”