Page 23

23

Luna

W hen we’re nervous, we make bread.

I kneaded a batch of dough the following morning.

My cottage was usually my refuge.

The hanging plants and ocean scent were usually a calming balm.

Ever since I’d realized the problem may be inside me—with magic I apparently had, and my inability to use it—my nerves had followed me everywhere.

Even Darius thought I had to be the one to save the inn.

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

I hadn’t wanted to press him on it when I was still learning so much about the magic myself, but it appeared he at least suspected something.

What did that mean about who had placed the magic on the inn?

If Evelyn was right, there could only have been two people in the supposed memory.

I didn’t like where the evidence was pointing.

So many of my questions had no answers, and the only thing I knew to do was knead the dough until it no longer stuck to my fingers .

As of late, I’d been lucky to make bread when I had visitors, either Evelyn and Seraphina to help clean or the group arriving today to test my magic.

I wasn’t sure what I’d do when I was back to much less company at the inn.

Or maybe there won’t be a cozy cottage here for me to work in.

Perhaps it will be sold and repurposed, so it won’t even matter.

More unhelpful thoughts slid into my mind as I worked.

The thoughts might be a possible future, but dwelling on negativity gave me nothing.

Instead, I’d focus on how to test my magic.

I remembered when Darius visited the village where Mom raised me.

I’d been young, but he had been such a novelty in my childhood that the memory stuck with me.

“We’re going to play a game,” he’d said.

Our house had been small, with only one bedroom for me and Mom.

He’d led me outside to play.

Mom stood with her arms crossed on the step, but she gave me a tight smile before looking to the sky.

Darius had a bowl of water with him.

He asked me to grab it and pull it to me.

When I tried to do so physically with my hands, he laughed.

“No, sweetie, with what’s in here.” He patted his chest.

He spoke so warmly then.

What had changed?

I looked at Mom, but she was determined not to watch.

She stared steadfastly into the distance.

“I…” I stumbled, not wanting to disappoint him—not wanting our game to end.

“I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

He set the bowl down as he glared over his shoulder at Mom.

“You are half-fae, sweetie. That means you might have magic like me.” He tipped his palm up, and the water from the bowl leaped into it, swirling around like a self-crashing wave, never leaving the confines he gave it.

My mouth opened wide.

“I can do that?” I glanced at Mom, who still refused to meet my gaze.

She didn’t stop him, though.

Mom was near enough to hear his words, to intervene if she thought he was saying something wrong.

She didn’t.

“We don’t know, Luna. Since you’re a mix of me and your mom, you might not, but if you do, I want to help you learn to use it.”

I nodded, pretending to understand things that I couldn’t comprehend.

“So, close your eyes and focus on something in here.” He pointed to his chest again.

“Magic comes from the heart of ourselves. You must feel it inside before the water will listen to you.”

“What does it feel like?”

He tilted his head, a reassuring smile crossing his face.

“I think it’s a little different for everyone, but maybe like peace? Something calming?”

I looked at the wave crashing in circles on his palm.

“That is calming?”

He shrugged.

“It is to me. Now you try. Once you find the spot inside, ask it to come to you.”

With a final, unmet glance at Mom, I did what he said.

My eyes closed, and I felt around inside for something peaceful.

But I wasn’t calm.

I was very much not calm.

What was happening here?

Mom wasn’t helping.

Darius was my dad, but he was a stranger, telling me I had magic.

No part of whatever was going on was calming.

If I had magic like he said, would he take me away?

Maybe I better not look too hard.

I was curious, though, so I searched.

He said I’d have to call it if I found it, but I could skip that step if necessary.

I didn’t even find it.

Darius was patient.

He took me farther down the street to the stream to try there.

He thought more water might help me connect with it.

Still, I didn’t find anything.

It was almost dark when Mom came down the road and told him that was enough.

Her hands were on her hips.

“You’ve tried. Now leave her be.”

He glanced at Mom, then back to me.

“What if I don’t want to?” he said over my head.

I could tell he tried to speak quietly, but I could hear every word.

“That’s not…that wasn’t?—”

A warm calm spread through me as I stood ankle-deep in the water.

I felt it then, I thought—what Darius was looking for.

Mom glanced at me as the moonlight shone, panic in her eyes.

“Luna, go back to the house. I have to speak with Darius.”

My mouth opened and closed like I was a fish out of water.

The feeling grew stronger—the calm, the command of the water around my ankles.

I’d found what Darius was looking for; I was sure of it.

Then the cold cut of Mom’s voice brought me back to reality.

It made me think my fears were confirmed.

If I did what Darius wanted, if I found the calm, called to it, and moved the water, he would take me away.

I wouldn’t leave Mom.

At her command, I’d jumped out of the stream and run back down the road to the house.

I never heard the rest of their heated conversation, and Darius didn’t visit our village again.

Dough finally fell easily from my fingers, and I was ready to let it rise.

My trip down memory lane had done nothing to ease my anxiety, but at least it had helped me finish kneading.

I carried the bowl to the fire and placed it on the hearth.

There was nothing else to do but try and find the warmth.

Thinking about the test with Darius reminded me that I had found something that day.

I hadn’t doubted Vincent’s assertions about the night we met.

His explanation, especially about the drink, made too much sense, but finding the calm that Darius had asked me to seek was something I hadn’t let myself remember.

I wondered how different my relationship with Darius would be if I’d said something then—if I’d explored whatever I’d felt.

Would he have known how to help me call it?

I hadn’t tried because of the look on Mom’s face—terror, sadness, desperation.

I’d thought we could avoid these things if only I didn’t do what Darius asked.

I’d trusted Mom to know what was best.

Why had she thought not having magic was best?

It was a question I should have asked myself much sooner, but none of these pieces had fit together before.

I considered the test again, how Darius had tried to find my magic.

He’d had me stand in the water when nothing else helped.

I’d been doing the same the night I met Vincent.

Maybe I needed to be standing in the water for it to work.

There was still a little time before everyone showed up.

I could go down to the sea and try it.

The pattern was too much to ignore.

I’d feel more foolish with all of them standing there with me, watching.

With a prick of anxiety, I walked toward the steps.

I still thought of Mom often, but never these memories.

My life with her had been full of love, energy, and community in our small town.

The humans had looked out for each other, even as the continent changed.

As much as I hadn’t wanted Darius to steal me away, I wondered if that was what he would have done.

My child’s mind had made up so much to fill in so many gaps.

And so much of what I knew of Darius was through Mom’s lens.

The waves rolled along the beach as I walked to it.

Each crash was another memory of Mom’s disdain.

“He only cares about power. If you don’t have any, he won’t want you,” she’d said a few years later when I asked about him again.

Another crash.

“Fae are selfish and cruel. Don’t count on them for anything.” It had been her warning mantra whenever a fae arrived in our small village.

It hadn’t occurred to me until I was much older that this also partially applied to me: I was half-fae.

Mom liked to pretend I was fully human.

There was never any evidence to the contrary.

The only noticeable difference would be my aging, but as I was in my mid-twenties, it was nearly impossible to tell that my aging had slowed.

Waves continued to roll in, the tide rising as I slipped off my boots and stepped into the water.

Perhaps Mom had done me a disservice?

I wasn’t blaming her, just questioning my relationship with my fae heritage.

I’d always lain all the blame for my distance from it at Darius’s feet, but…

that picture now felt incomplete.

I didn’t want to think I’d been so easily charmed by a man who’d ignored me for twenty-five years, but he’d seemed so genuine yesterday.

He’d had no answers to my questions, but he’d focused on starting fresh, on starting over.

Even how he worried about Vincent’s place in my life was confusing.

Last night, I’d been too focused on getting what I needed for Vincent’s story—an invite to the house—and now, next week, I’d be at Pierce House, and could ask what I wanted to know.

Part of me wanted to hear his side of the story.

The pain of his absence wouldn’t disappear, but we could only start fresh once I understood his perspective of these childhood events.

Not knowing why he’d changed his mind would eat at me worse than not having him around.

Waves crashed against the shore, but the sound was soothing.

I was only ankle-deep in the water, but each roll of waves brought it a little higher on my skin.

The current’s pull reminded me of the night I’d been swept away.

My pulse elevated.

I glanced up, breathing deeply.

The sun was high, with few clouds covering it.

This wasn’t the same as that night.

The one night I’d slept in a room at the inn.

I focused on my magic and evening out my breath.

There was no need to get worked up about the memory before I had proof.

The water rolled against me, but no core of magic flared to life.

My gaze roamed the horizon as I wondered what it would be like to feel the breadth of the sea with water magic.

It had to be empowering to know that something so vast and encompassing was yours.

I bet it was connecting, in a way, too, knowing others of your court felt the same.

If only I could make the connection.

I felt nothing.

The beach was unsurprisingly empty, so I started walking along the water.

The loose skirt of my brightly colored dress blew in the breeze.

I walked with no agenda other than clearing my head.

Wind wrapped around me as I did.

It was lovely how well the wind and water worked together.

Some might think they were constantly competing for control, but I thought they had more of a partnership than we realized.

The wind circled tighter, bringing an uncommon warmth that took me a moment to recognize.

When I did, I glanced over my shoulder to see Vincent standing at the bottom of the steps.