38. Two Halves of a Bargain #2
Edith flies forward with a sob. Her embrace nearly knocks Tansy over. He holds his feet with an undignified squeak.
Hammer crashing to the floor, Alard rushes to join them.
Seren moves out of their way. He’d expected more pain. Jealousy. He feels that, but also relief. A chorus of joy.
Nevander’s nowhere to be seen, but Seren trusts him to be nearby.
“Nice to meet you both,” Tansy gasps, surfacing from the embrace. He wiggles free with a clever deflection. “You owe Seren thanks, by the way. He went through a lot of effort to bring me back.”
Conveniently leaving out that Tansy himself had been the main obstacle.
Edith keeps hold of Tansy’s hands. “Are you really back? They won’t take you again?”
Her suspicion cuts, and Seren’s joy and hurt bleed together.
“He’s staying,” Seren says, burying his turmoil. “I would grab some of my things first.”
“Of course,” Alard says roughly. Wiping his eyes, he follows Seren upstairs. Like he’s escorting a stranger into his home.
The cottage already feels unfamiliar. Floorboards polished smooth by years of footsteps, curtains faded lighter on the windows that get more sun. Humans leave fingerprints the same as fae, and their lives weave into the history of a place. They shape each other.
Seren has shaped this place and these people, as much as they’ve shaped him.
“You’re leaving again,” Alard says suddenly, like he’s just realized it.
“I belong somewhere else.” Seren turns in the center of the room, taking everything in. The bed is newly made, the bookshelf dusted clean. Someone has tended the space in his absence. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Alard winces. “I thought we should. Edith was scared of anything that might chase you off.” He wipes his eyes again. “If you ever switched back, we wanted you with us. So our boy wouldn’t return to gods know where, alone…”
Seren looks away, his own eyes stinging. He was never Alard’s child. It’s not Alard’s fault, but it’s okay to hurt. That’s not the note Seren wants to end on, though. “You did your best by me. Thank you.”
“We tried,” Alard says, shifting his weight awkwardly. “What are your real folks like? Have you met them?”
That’s not the note Seren wants to end on, either. But it’s nice of Alard to ask.
“I haven’t met them,” Seren says, and his smile isn’t entirely forced. “I’m happy, though.”
Alard exhales. “That’s good. You know, if you ever need anything—”
“Best not make promises to the fae,” Seren interrupts. The impulse is sweet, polite, the sort of thing humans say far too recklessly.
“Right.” Alard scratches his head awkwardly. “Is it safe to wish you good luck?”
“That’s just fine.”
Seren only takes one thing from his bedroom. After tossing it into his carryhold, he descends again. Tansy and Edith are in the kitchen now, Edith weeping on a dismayed Tansy’s shoulder. Alard joins them.
They make a tender portrait in the kitchen’s warm light. Seren watches from the foot of the stairs and risks lowering his shields. The entire cottage is radiant with relief and joy, deepened by past sorrow.
Seren slams his shield into place. Carrying only his own emotions—strange nostalgia, the peace of closure—he slips outside. No need for farewells.
Nevander waits on the back porch. His invisibility flickers for just an instant. Intentional, to let Seren know where he is. Seren moves closer until the air warms with Nevander’s presence, and a gauntleted hand wraps gently around his wrist.
They take the narrow dirt path through Edith’s herb garden. They stop at the creek, where Nevander’s footprints sink into the soft earth.
“You’re still worried,” Nevander says.
“I thought bringing Tansy back would fix everything,” Seren admits. It sounds naive now. “They’re happy, but they’re still broken under the surface.”
Nevander’s touch moves to Seren’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. “You can’t take on everyone’s pain.”
I can, Seren wants to say. But he shouldn’t make reckless offers either.
“I saw you here,” Seren says instead. “I saw the edge of your cloak behind that tree, then your footprints.”
“I was careless with my glamour,” Nevander admits. “You were upset.”
Even then, without conscious effort, Seren was prying loose the cracks of Nevander’s armor.
“Careless,” Seren echoes. “Or did some part of you want to be seen?”
Nevander’s next breath stirs Seren’s hair. “I wanted to be closer.” His words heat Seren’s ear. “Ever closer.”
Gloved fingers hold Seren by the chin. Nevander’s kiss is at once inevitable and unexpected. Unseen but present, imprinted in the darkest and brightest corners of Seren’s spirit. Seren braces himself against invisible armor, and groans as an invisible mouth steals away his breath.
He closes his eyes, lost in the moment. And he’s unsurprised when he opens them again to find Nevander right there, radiant, transfixed.
“Careless again?” Seren asks, breathless.
“I dropped it on purpose that time.” Nevander twists a lock of Seren’s hair around his finger. “But you didn’t.”
The lock of hair is blue. Seren’s human glamour has fallen, and he’s exactly who he should be. By the murmuring creek, between the cottage and the autumn woods, not everything is fixed, but not everything is broken either.
“I trust you’ll help me practice concentration.” Seren presses a kiss to Nevander’s leather-clad palm. “Take me home, my guardian.”
Nevander’s eyes flash. “With pleasure, my king.”