Chapter 22 Home & Hope
Chapter twenty-two
Home & Hope
“Is this alright?” I asked, smoothing down the front of my cream-colored linen dress.
After eating breakfast and painstakingly washing flour out of my hair in the sluice, I had spent at least twenty minutes selecting what to wear.
It was a lovely dress, and flattering, with pink musk roses embroidered around the collar, sleeves, and calf-length hem, but I was anxious nonetheless.
Devil stood facing the shelf that ran along the outside of his room, selecting arrows for his quiver, but he looked back at me as I came through the archway from downstairs.
“Perfect,” he said quietly, eyes lingering just long enough that when he reached for another arrow, he knocked the entire stack of them onto the moss-carpeted floor.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn he blushed as he bent to pick them up.
I walked over to help, but my hands were already shaky with nerves, and I grabbed an arrow he was already holding.
The head slid across his palm, leaving a shallow cut, and I couldn’t help but gasp at what spilled out—not blood, but light.
The same soft, golden light he could conjure at will from his fingertips.
It lived inside him, just as he had said.
No blood, and no heart, just magyk. I reached out, trying to smile even though my own heart was hammering inexplicably.
“Here, let me heal it.”
He shook his head, looking dismayed. “Your gift was meant to fix…living things. Blood and bone and sinew and skin.”
“But you have all those,” I laughed, “except blood, I suppose. Let me close the wound, at least.”
“I have always wondered…” he murmured.
“About the gift you gave me?” I took his hand and laid my thumb over the cut.
“You ought to know, it has saved a great many lives in Nottingham. If you even care about such things.” I tugged gently on the thread of magyk inside me, unwinding it as if it were on a spool beneath my breastbone.
The familiar pulling sensation raced down my arm, but when it reached my thumb, it began to tangle and unravel.
The light in Devil’s veins turned to a flame, burning up my thread like a wick.
I yelped and pulled away, leaving the cut still open.
“What happened?” he asked, yanking his hand back.
“I-I’m not sure…” I rubbed my palm, which was aching slightly, and let out a weak laugh. “It felt like your magyk…bit me.”
“It does not work for creatures like me,” he muttered, wiping the drops of liquid light with his sleeve.
Rather abruptly, he took a stray strip of linen and tied it around his hand, then went to take his bow off the wall and string it.
I started to assure him that I was not upset, but thought better of it.
Our conversation earlier had been emotional enough, and I still did not fully understand what he had told me about his own ‘birth’, nor my role in it, but he seemed reluctant to discuss it any further.
So, I remained silent while waiting for him to finish, and ran my fingers through the bits and baubles hanging from the branches overhead.
Shafts of sunlight hitting the suspended treasures created a patchwork of patterns on the floor and walls.
It was like being inside the kaleidoscope Tuck had made me once when I was a child.
A simple toy—just a shabby spyglass he’d bought from a tinker, then filled with tiny, colorful beads.
But when I held it up to the light, it had transported me to another world entirely.
Maybe this world. The memory of it made me smile, and I twirled around, trying to knock as many of the strings as I could at the same time, but I almost ran straight into Devil.
“You really must stop sneaking around like that,” I chided, then reached above his head and tapped a spiraling, unicorn-horn seashell. “What is all this anyway?”
“These are my bargains,” he said, a note of soft pride in his voice.
“A young woman left me that shell in exchange for a new bottle of kohl, so she could attract the attention of a lover. And this one…” He showed me a string of shining teardrops in every color of the rainbow.
“This was left by a boy, the son of a glass-maker, who wanted his own bow and quiver of arrows. They are only pieces of slag from his father’s workshop, but to him, they were treasures valuable enough to bring to the Arden. ”
“And do you always give people the things they ask for?”
“Of course. When I can.”
“So, you do not spend all your time spying on me, then,” I said with a smirk, and he rolled his eyes.
“I should be allowed some hobbies, shouldn’t I?”
I continued wandering around the room, touching each object one-by-one. “Do you make the things people ask for? I mean, could you make a bow and arrows out of thin air right now? Or a bottle of kohl?”
“No.” Devil flashed a feral grin. “The things I give must be…procured…”
“So, you’re a menace and a thief!” I scoffed.
“Is it truly thieving if the people I take from can afford to replace their things immediately?” he asked with a laugh.
“The son of a wealthy family would assume that he simply misplaced his bow and arrows, and would get another within a week. But those ‘toys’ were prized possessions for the glass-maker’s boy, and he became quite skilled with them.
Perhaps he now uses those skills to earn a living, or feed his family. All thanks to me.”
I pursed my lips. “Yes, all thanks to you.”
“Come,” Devil said, holding out his hand.
“I promised I would deliver you quickly and here it is, hours later. Antenor will surely report that we’ve been…
otherwise engaged.” He took my hand and pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around my waist. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his upper arm, having noticed that whenever we traveled by magyk, I felt a little ill afterwards.
“Why are you bringing your weapons?” I murmured.
“Once you are with Oberon, I must begin hunting for the herb that will cure Lady Helena of her love-sickness,” he said.
There was a soft whooshing in my ears, then I looked up to see that we were standing outside the Bower again.
It looked different in broad daylight. No less imposing, but the ethereal quality lent by the faerie lights and the moon was gone.
“Must I be alone with him?” I shifted away from Devil, who seemed reluctant to take his hand off my waist.
“He means you no harm, May. He is your grandfather, after all.”
The thought was a strange one, since Oberon did not physically appear to be much older than Tuck or Sissi. But I twisted my hands together in front of me and mumbled, “If you had seen what I’ve seen—what some grandfathers are capable of—you might understand.”
Devil brushed his fingers down my arm. “I would never let you be alone with anyone I thought might hurt you,” he said, and something in his tone actually served to reassure me.
I straightened up and turned toward the Bower.
Several guards stood outside the entrance, and a few small groups of fay milled around, some still wearing their costumes from the night before.
Even without the crowd, however, my legs refused to carry me forward.
“Will they all recognize me now?” I whispered, more to myself than Devil. “Will they know who I am?”
“Most likely,” he answered gently. “Would you like another glamour?”
The idea was sorely tempting, but I put my fingers up again to feel the tips of my ears.
Somehow, they were a comfort, a strange reminder of who I really was—not truly an orphan, not an unwanted child, not a burden or a complication or a disaster.
I had been wanted, and loved, and treasured.
I was a daughter of the Arden, just as much as any of them were. Perhaps more.
“No,” I said firmly. “No, I do not need a glamour.”
Devil smiled and held out his arm.
“After you, then, Mayhem.”
The alcoves along the grand entrance hall were still occupied.
Naked bodies draped over one another, some yawning and beginning to shake off the haze of wine and pleasure, while others slept soundly.
I tried to avert my eyes when they emerged from behind the curtains, in various states of undress, whispering behind their hands as I walked by.
Devil kept several paces back, but I strangely wished he was beside me, if only to block some of the attention.
I heard Lyric’s name fly from nearly every mouth, and more fay began to come out as word spread, some even bowing when I passed them.
“Welcome home, my lady,” called one young woman with pink skin and ruby-red eyes, who tossed a handful of crushed flower petals in front of me.
The blessing was echoed by everyone lining the walls, and I did my best to nod or smile in reply.
Relief washed over me when we reached the entrance to the ballroom and were waved through by more guards.
“Perhaps I should have had you glamour me,” I breathed, stopping for a moment to compose myself.
“What worries you?” Devil asked with a frown. “Your mother was very much beloved in the Arden.”
“And what if I turn out to be nothing like her? What if I…disappoint them?”
“You do not need to be like her, May, and you should not tear yourself apart over it. No amount of love is worth your own destruction.”
“Such earnest sentiments from a creature with no heart,” I murmured, searching his eyes.
“Oh, I have been well-trained in the art of feigning sentimentality,” he said with a grin.