Chapter six
Prima (Bella) Donna
A pained screech rang out in the early hours of the morning. Only one. I listened, but no more came. I dismissed it as a nightmare and went back to sleep.
A skillet jostled.
Dishware clinked together.
Darragh’s husky voice, no louder than a whisper, hissed, “Shhhh!”
Sunshine trickled through the window above me. I stretched and climbed down from the loft. In the kitchen, delicate cream curtains wafted on a breeze that carried the gentle scent of roses. Pots and pans littered the counter, and a smear of white powder covered Darragh’s forehead. He draped a towel over his shoulder and said, “Sorry about the noise.”
“Don’t apologize. Were you talking to someone?”
Darragh gestured at the surrounding cottage.
“You…talk to your house?” I asked.
“Of course,” Darragh defended.
“Does the house ever answer?”
Snap!
I leapt aside as a bundle of herbs crashed to the floor. I picked up the herbs, and examined the roof where they came loose.
Darragh reached for the bundle and replied, “In its own way.”
Recalling the night before, I looked out the window. “The nightstalker—”
“I took care of it.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Darragh’s response was a grim, fleeting smile.
“Can I help with anything?” I asked, gesturing at the food.
“No.”
I sat on the stool across from Darragh. He brushed his hands on the towel and used a length of cord to tie his hair in a messy knot. Before I woke, he’d taken the time to apply dark make-up around his eyes. When he glanced at me, my stomach fluttered. I found myself staring at Darragh’s hands, rather than his face, while he worked. After chopping a small, purple fruit, Darragh set his knife next to a vase filled with flowers.
“What are those?” I asked, jutting my chin at the flowers.
Without looking up, Darragh said, “We call them rubies.” They reminded me of dahlias, except the petals looked, well, they looked like rubies. Blood-red and faceted, the petals reflected the light, just like a gemstone. I reached over and touched one. It squished, like one of those detergent packets you put in your dishwasher or laundry.
I felt a strange compulsion to pluck off a petal and bite it.
A forbidden Gusher.
I didn’t though.
Darragh gave me a curious look and resumed chopping. “They’re amazing,” I said quickly. Darragh shrugged in a yeah, I guess sort of way, but a smile curled his cheek. Even if he pretended not to be, Darragh was pleased I liked them.
I excused myself to use the bathroom, where a twig and a bar of soap sat on a pile of clean, neatly folded clothes. The twig smelled strongly of mint. I used it to brush my teeth, whether that was its intended purpose or not. I pulled on the flowing cream shirt and tucked it into brown trousers. A similar outfit to Darragh’s, though when I put the items on, I found they were exactly my size.
“Are you sure I can’t help?” I asked as I left the bathroom.
“No,” Darragh repeated and then pointed toward the den. I raised my hands in defeat and retired to the sofa.
Darragh dropped his knife and stood straight, like he’d heard something.
“What?” I leapt up.
Darragh placed a finger to his lips, politely shushing me. He leaned close to the window, listening. His eyes widened and he said, “Prepare yourself—”
The front door burst open.
A giant of a man, clothed from head to toe in a flowing, scarlet robe, stooped and entered. Righting himself, he shook out a monstrous mane of black hair. Delicate braids, woven with strands of gold, caught the light and glinted. The man brushed aside a bundle of hanging herbs. Darragh was tall, at least a foot taller than me. This man was at least a head taller than him. Wider too. Broad chested, with thick, strong biceps. He bent to set a satchel down and the seams of his robe looked like they might burst.
“I have to say, Darragh, every time I make this journey, I’m reminded how preposterously dull your rural life must be—” The man paused.
He and Darragh stared at each other.
The man stroked his tidy, pointed beard. An old scar jutted through his exquisitely manicured eyebrow, offering a peculiar contrast against his affluent appearance. Like Darragh, dark make-up surrounded the man’s eyes. Though, the application was cleaner, more practiced.
Finally, the man pursed his lips and said, “Are you wearing make-up?”
“What of it?” Darragh replied.
“Who are you dressed up for?” The man surveyed the cottage, and his charming brown eyes found me. He yelped, “Oh my!” and covered his mouth. Overcoming the shock, excitement lit the man’s face. He clapped his hands and cried, “What delicious little tryst have I happened upon?” He looked at Darragh, who’s face conveyed something quite contrary to excitement. Actually, he looked a bit ill. The man plucked a sparkling ruby from the vase and murmured, “My, oh my.” He looked me up and down with renewed interest. “Whoever is the auspicious young woman?”
“Bowyn, this is N-Nell,” Darragh stammered. “Nell, this is Bowyn.”
Was Darragh nervous?
Bowyn sensed it too; he rounded on Darragh like a snake. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to me. To look at Bowyn was an embrace. Though he stood a room away, I felt Bowyn’s hands on the small of my back, guiding me forward. His perfume, a burst of fresh florals and citrus, overwhelmed my senses, and dizzying warmth spread through me. When Bowyn smiled, I couldn’t help but smile drunkenly back. In my mind, a seductive voice whispered, “ My love. Come to me .”
The command broke the spell. I shook my head, clearing out Bowyn’s voice. “No. Thank you.”
Horror contorted Bowyn’s face.
Darragh exhaled loudly, and his shoulders sagged. His relief was short-lived. Bowyn bellowed, “Darragh!” and slammed his fist on the counter. Dishes and food bounced several inches into the air. “Darragh. Sorin. Mitalrrythin!” Bowyn pointed at me. “What is she?!” Before Darragh could reply, Bowyn hissed, “Tell me you didn’t. ”
“Don’t start with me,” Darragh snapped. “Would you like a drink, Nell?”
“You, of all people , should know the consequences of what you’ve done!” Bowyn cried. “I can’t believe you’d be so reckless, so stupid—”
“She was going to die!” Darragh shouted.
Stoked by Darragh’s outburst, the fire burned uncontrollably in the hearth. I scooched away from the furious flames. “I panicked!” Darragh yelled, glaring at Bowyn. “Would you have me leave her to die?”
“Yes!” A look of incredulity smeared Bowyn’s face, as if the answer was obvious. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’d have you do!” A gob of spit flew from Bowyn’s mouth. Darragh drew a hand across his cheek, disgusted.
I glanced at the door; would they notice if I left? There could be another nightstalker outside though… I looked at Bowyn, hulking in the kitchen.
I stepped toward the door.
Bowyn threw up his arms. He gave me a final, hateful glare and stormed out. The door slammed with such force, the windows shook, and several glass bottles fell off a shelf. Darragh waved, and the bottles put themselves neatly back where they belonged. He did so without looking, and with such complacency that I wondered if this sort of thing happened often.
I waited for the flames to die back considerably before I said, “Is he a…friend?”
There was a bitter note in Darragh’s voice when he said, “My only friend.”
“Ah.” I sat down. “He’s kind of a bitch, eh?”
The corners of Darragh’s mouth turned up as he suppressed a laugh. “He’ll come back. He does this.” Darragh walked over and placed a drink in my hand. “Also, he left his favourite bag.” Darragh pointed to the satchel nestled by the door.
“It is a nice bag.”
“I made it.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “That’s impressive.”
“Thanks.”
“So why does Bowyn want me dead?”
“He doesn’t want you dead, it’s just…it’s complicated.”
I waited for an explanation.
Darragh groaned and pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m not the only one who can travel to your world. For hundreds of years, my people have made the journey. Not many—it’s not an easy trip—but enough. Occasionally, people from Hiraeth would”—Darragh chewed his lip, searching for the right word—“breed with people from Earth.”
“I wondered if we were compatible,” I said.
Darragh choked on his drink.
“Not you and I,” I backtracked. “I meant people from Earth and people from Hiraeth in general.” Darragh massaged his throat and gave me a funny look. “I think it’s natural to wonder,” I defended.
“Anyway,” Darragh continued, “Hiraethians introduced magic into a world where it doesn’t belong. That magic travels through bloodlines and crops up at unpredictable times. Often with devastating consequences.”
“The stuff in the news, the outbursts of magic? Is that what happened to me?”
Darragh nodded and sipped his drink. “It’s been happening for centuries. Accidents that people dismiss as miracles, or unknown compelling forces. In the last few years, the outbursts are happening more frequently and more…obviously. Technology on Earth has made it difficult to hide.”
“How do we fix it?”
“Travel between Hiraeth and Earth must cease. If an individual was born on Hiraeth, we expect them to return. That’s my job. I find those who do not come back willingly. Over time, the magic blood will dilute, and the outbursts will stop.”
“What about the kids? People who weren’t born on Hiraeth, but still have magic?”
People like me.
Darragh drained his drink. “Nothing. Most never find out they carry the trait. That’s the best-case scenario. Magic wasn’t meant for your world, and those who have it don’t thrive. If a person with magic is discovered…well, your people are so quick to kill anything different from themselves, aren’t they?”
Freak bitch . Turner’s cry when he attacked me.
Darragh continued. “Those who realize what they are, and avoid detection, tend to live lonely, isolated lives.” Darragh examined his empty cup. “Too often cut short by their own hand.”
“Why don’t you bring them here?”
“Hiraeth is dangerous. We’ve evolved magic for a reason. If we start bringing people from Earth, even if they have magic, there’s a risk their offspring won’t. That’s a death sentence. Even the most basic Hiraethians have enough magic to scrape by.”
“So, Bowyn’s mad you might get in trouble?”
Darragh nodded. “I’m not sure what will happen if the wrong person finds out I brought you here.”
***
Bowyn did indeed come back.
There wasn’t a trace of residual anger about him. In fact, he possessed such charm that I wondered if the original Bowyn walked into the woods, only to be replaced by a twin. Darragh headed back to the kitchen. As he passed Bowyn, he asked, “Are you finished?”
“I’m not entirely sure what you’re talking about, my darling.” Bowyn smiled sweetly. Darragh only rolled his eyes and continued into the kitchen. “You’re lucky I’m here at all. Do you know how many people would love to have me around?” Bowyn made his way to the sofa and sat beside me.
“Can’t imagine why,” Darragh muttered.
“Because I’m big! And spicy! And foreign!” Bowyn shouted. He turned to me. “But then again, no one is more foreign than you are. Isn’t that right, my love?” My throat suddenly dry, I swallowed. While I sat facing the fire, Bowyn had placed himself so that he faced me. His large knees brushed my thigh.
“Hmm?” Bowyn tilted his chin.
“Yes. I’m from—”
Our eyes met.
Weren’t Bowyn’s eyes brown? They were silver now. A stunning contrast against his skin. His lips called to me, thick and supple… I shook my head, frustrated. “Sorry. I forgot what I was saying.”
Bowyn took my hand. His skin was buttery soft, his touch delicate. “That’s alright my love. We’ve got all day.” Unable to look away, I nodded slowly. Dizzying warmth crept into my cheeks again—
A crash erupted from the kitchen. Bowyn tensed and dropped my hand. Darragh knelt to clean up the shards of a plate, which appeared to have fallen from the counter. As Darragh stood, he shot Bowyn a stern look. A thought seemed to pass silently between them, and Bowyn grinned. He wore the smile of a child caught doing something he knew he shouldn’t be. The silver ebbed from Bowyn’s eyes, and he said, “Let’s not trouble ourselves with the work of men, my dearest Nell.” The sofa groaned as he shifted and stood. “Come. Let’s have a walk while Darragh works his magic in the kitchen.” Bowyn offered to help me up. I glanced at Darragh and Bowyn hissed, “You’re a woman; you don’t need his permission.”
Bowyn had a point. I took his arm.
The muscle in Darragh’s jaw twitched. Without looking up he said, “ Don’t go far.”
“Look at me.” Bowyn flexed. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“Your strength means nothing here. Don’t leave the nettle and stay where I can see you.”
Bowyn ushered me out but hesitated himself, shouting, “My dearest, I’m a giant dressed in scarlet! You can always see me!”
Bowyn walked in a swishy way that reminded me of Sasha. A pang of homesickness swept through me. Was I really homesick for a dingy apartment and a minimum wage job?
Yes.
I missed Sasha, and Watney. I missed being alone and feeling safe in my apartment, even if it was a little dingy. Now that the choice was taken away, I was struck with the uncontrollable urge to tidy and organize all my things. Once I got home, I’d start right away. I’d do the dishes, and—Bowyn tugged my arm, bringing me back to Hiraeth.
If.
If I got home.
“Nell—that’s an interesting name,” Bowyn began.
“Short for Eleanor.”
“Well, I owe you an apology, Eleanor. I’m dreadfully ashamed of my behaviour.”
“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “Darragh explained it. You’re just looking out for your friend.”
Bowyn shouted, “Exactly!” and I flinched. With a huff, Bowyn regained his composure. “ However , I shouldn’t have said what I said. Darragh shouldn’t have left you to die—and I’m pleased he didn’t.” Patting my arm, Bowyn added, “I’m thrilled you’re alive, especially for his sake.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
What did Bowyn mean, for his sake?
Bowyn abruptly changed direction. I clung to his bicep, nearly falling into one of Darragh’s gardens. Bowyn didn’t notice. He led us to a rustic bench made of branches, nestled beneath a large droopy tree. Bowyn motioned for me sit, and when I did, he sat beside me. Leaning back, Bowyn placed his arm along the bench. He stroked my shoulder absently. “What do you do back home, Eleanor?”
I hated that question.
“I just serve people drinks.”
“What do you mean just ?”
“I don’t know. It’s not an important job.”
“If it’s not important, why is there a need for it?” I opened my mouth to respond but closed it when I couldn’t think of an answer. “What sort of magic can you do?” I asked instead.
Bowyn let out a disgruntled cough. “It’s frowned upon to ask people about their magic.”
“I’m sorry,” I backpedaled. “I didn’t know.” I couldn’t help myself from asking, “Why?”
“Some have more than others.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I repeated.
Bowyn squeezed my shoulder. “It’s alright, my love. I’ve always said, it’s not how much you have, it’s how you use it that counts.” Bowyn gazed out over the gardens. “I don’t mean to be sensitive; I grew up comparing myself to Darragh. He’s surprisingly powerful for a man.”
“For a man?”
“The weaker sex.”
“What do you mean?”
“We men generally aren’t as powerful as women.”
“Huh,” I muttered, wondering if that was true.
Now that I had someone who wanted to talk about magic, question after question raced through my mind. “If you all have some magic, why can’t you learn how to do everything?
“Even if I know how to do something, I might not have the capacity.” Bowyn pointed to a small stone. “See that rock?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know you’re strong enough to lift it, just by looking at it.” He pointed to a much larger rock. “You know you can’t pick that up. You don’t even have to try. You’re not strong enough.” He saw me eye the large rock. “Don’t try. You’ll only hurt yourself. Anyway, that’s what it’s like with our magic. Even if we know how something should be done, some of us just aren’t strong enough to do it.”
To hear Bowyn say he wasn’t strong enough baffled me.
“If I got a crane or a pulley, I could use leverage to move it.”
Bowyn looked over his shoulder. I don’t know what he was looking for; the only other person around was Darragh. “People on Hiraeth can be a bit…persnickety about technology and sciency things. It’s all very controversial. Try not to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“They don’t trust it. As far as most people are concerned, science is just something men with little magic do at home when they’re bored.”
“Do you believe in science then?”
Bowyn pursed his lips and bopped my nose with one gigantic finger. “Cheeky.”
“So, what do you do here?”
“I help people who’ve lost their magic.”
“Can that happen?”
“It can. And believe me, Hiraeth is no place for someone without magic.”
“How does someone lose their magic?”
“Trauma, sadness. Lots of things can take magic away. I work with people to get it back.”
“How?”
“This.” Bowyn brushed my arm. “We have conversations, make plans and goals. Mostly I just listen. You’d be surprised how many people find their magic once they feel they’ve been heard.”
“So, could you help me figure out my magic?”
Bowyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well—”
“Time to eat,” Darragh interrupted. I jumped, and Bowyn yanked his arm away. The way Darragh glared at Bowyn, I half expected Bowyn might burst into flames right there on the bench. Even more surprising, Bowyn’s playful smile had vanished.
Stroking his beard, Bowyn mumbled, “Uh, splendid. We’re right behind you.”
Darragh grunted and left.
Bowyn lumbered to his feet and offered me his arm. When I took it, he leaned in close and said, “I’ll help you.”
***
After breakfast, Bowyn withdrew several empty bottles from his satchel and set them next to the washing basin. Next, he pulled out a wheel of cheese and a handful of jars packed with seeds. One-by-one, Darragh placed colourful bottles onto the counter, and Bowyn tucked them into his satchel. The soft clinking of glass followed Bowyn as he rounded the counter and grasped my hands. “Lovely to meet you, my dearest, Eleanor.” He brought my hands to his lips and kissed both. “I simply cannot contain the anticipation of our next endeavor.” To Darragh, he said, “Goodbye, my friend.” Darragh simply waved him off. Bowyn snatched a bundle of herbs from a rafter and, after slipping it in his satchel, he left.
“What’s all this?” I asked, pointing to the items Bowyn had left on the counter.
“Saves me the trip to town.” Darragh unstoppered the empty bottles and placed them in a large wooden basin. The basin filled with water.
“I didn’t know you could control water too.”
“I can’t.” Darragh’s lips compressed into a hard line. “The cottage does it.”
I sat on the stool watching Darragh scrub bottles. “I didn’t realize it was rude to ask people about their magic.”
Darragh snorted. “Did Bowyn say that?”
Who else would have said it?
“Yes.”
“He would say that.”
“Because he doesn’t have much?” I asked.
Darragh nodded. “Bowyn enchants people. He makes them feel good, and they’re drawn to him.” Bowyn had made me feel good, like that sweet, happy spot after a few drinks, where my cheeks ached from laughing, and I loved everyone and everything. Darragh continued. “He’s a master at getting what he wants, but otherwise, he has very little in the way of magic.” Darragh set a sparkling bottle upside down to dry. “ Mostly, Bowyn uses his magic for good. People feel comfortable around him, and they discuss things they might not otherwise talk about. In his own way, he helps those who are struggling.” Darragh shrugged and rinsed a bottle. “When he’s not too busy bedding them, of course.”
If I was under Bowyn’s enchantment long enough, I might very well have offered him the boots off my feet. An uncomfortable thought pitted my stomach. “Bowyn wouldn’t use his magic to make people sleep with him though, would he?”
Darragh scoffed and said, “Magic has nothing to do with it.” He set the next bottle down so forcefully, I was surprised it didn’t shatter.