Page 15 of If the Shoe Fits (Rainbow Tales #2)

When Xander woke in the morning, he found his mother's letter beside him.

The stone had been replaced in the fireplace.

Everything else was so normal that, had it not been for the parchment, he would have thought he had dreamed her up.

But there it was. He grabbed it to pull in against his chest, but something heavy fell out of the paper.

Sitting up, Xander searched the hearth for whatever had fallen free.

It was a ring. Xander picked up the ring and peered at it.

The band was thick but wrapped with delicate tendrils of gold that swept up to hold an oval, cabochon jewel the color of his mother's eyes.

His heart clenched to remember her. She was alive!

And she had promised to see him again one day.

Even if nothing else came of this, that was enough for him. Then he saw the inscription.

“Rub me?” Xander read. He stared at the ring. “What could it hurt?” He reached for the jewel.

“Stoke the fire for me, will ya, love?” Alma said, rubbing her eyes as she came into the kitchen.

Xander pocketed the ring and quickly tucked the parchment into his pants. “Was just about to.”

He got up and got a few pieces of wood from the pile he'd brought in the day before. After setting them in the fireplace, he stoked the banked embers until the logs caught.

“Thank you, Xander.” Alma came out of the cold storage room with some cheese and a meat pie. She set them on the table and cut wedges of each for both of them. “I'll make us some coffee.”

“Thank you, but I've got to get the horse stalls cleaned today, and I want to start as soon as possible.” Xander grabbed the slice of pie and chunk of cheese. “I'll just take these with me.”

“Oh, my sweet. You work too hard. You should at least take the time for breakfast.”

“It's all right. I'll have time to relax later this way.”

“All right, Xander. I'll put something out for your lunch at noon.”

“Thank you, Alma.” He kissed her cheek.

Xander hurried out of the house and into the cold morning.

Fog clung to the ground, trailing up the tree trunks with ghostly fingers.

He blundered through it, setting the mist to swirling furiously.

He felt as if he were walking through a dream, and he didn't like that.

Because Xander wanted the ring in his pocket to be real.

He wanted it to do something wondrous, giving him the help his mother promised.

If he woke up to find it was all a hallucination, it would be heartbreaking.

So he ignored the dreamy landscape and hurried into the stable.

After setting down his breakfast, he locked the door.

Only then did he pull out the parchment and the ring.

The parchment went into the place where he kept his treasures—a crevice in the storage room behind a board.

In it were a ribbon his mother used to wear, an old scarf of his father's, and a toy horse that he had stashed in there as a child when he first discovered the hiding spot.

If only he'd known to hide more valuable items.

But now he had a ring from his mother .

Xander secured the board and stepped out into the stable. Most of the horses were still asleep, but a couple whinnied in welcome. He gave them some quick strokes on their necks, but he was too eager to feed them. Their breakfast, and his, could wait.

He took the ring out of his pocket.

It was still there. Still real. And he seemed to be awake. It felt right to put it on, so he did. Then Xander stared at the sunrise stone again. Pulse racing, he rubbed it.

A flash of light came, similar to his mother's arrival, but this time he clearly saw that it came through the stable door. A shape appeared in the doorway and moved through. The horses, oddly enough, didn't make a sound.

The stable door shut, and the light hovered around the seams before winking out.

Before him stood a man with crimson hair down to his waist and glowing green eyes.

Yes, glowing, but only for a moment. As Xander watched, the glow died out.

Even without it, the man's eyes were striking, with glints of gold in them.

He was dressed in a loose tunic of green silk embroidered with gold leaves and tight gold pants.

Gold. Pants. His boots were a piece of art, the buttery leather embroidered with colorful flowers and leaves, going up to his knees.

The man cocked his head at Xander, scowled, and then locked his stare on the ring. “No. Surely not. You? You are Princess Levania's son?”

“Princess? Uh. I'm Xander, and my mother's name is Levania. Who are you?”

The man strode over to Xander and circled him, clicking his tongue.

“Yes, I see it now. You have her beauty.

It's merely hidden beneath terrible clothes and a lot of dirt. And then there is the stink of mortality on you. And the . . .” He waved his hands outward to indicate the breadth of Xander's shoulders. “The width. You're a big one.”

Xander bent his head toward his armpit and sniffed. “I just bathed last night.”

The man stopped in front of Xander. “With soap ?”

“Yes, with soap. But I sleep before the kitchen fireplace.” Xander looked away. “The smell of smoke seeps into my skin, even with the fire banked.”

“Well, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep in front of a fireplace.” The man shook his head, his pin-straight red hair fluffing out. “Sleep in a bed, you buffoon!”

“I have no bed!”

One of the horses finally protested, lifting its head to neigh.

The man waved a hand, and clouds of grain appeared in the air above the horse troughs, then fell into them. The horses set to eating.

“That was incredible!” Xander said.

“That was nothing.” The man flicked his fingers. “Just a bit of summoning magic.”

“It was amazing to me.”

“Why don't you have a bed?”

“Because my stepmother doesn't think I deserve one. I could sleep out here. It might be more comfortable in the hay, but it's warmer in the kitchen.”

“So, your mother wasn't exaggerating,” the man said. “ She told me you were being abused by relatives, but I never imagined this. I thought maybe you'd been given a smaller room or something.”

“Who are you?” Xander huffed.

“Oh. Sorry. I'm Nevan. Your fairy mother sent me to mentor you and help you in whatever way I can. She would be here herself, but she's the Princess. You know how that is.”

“No, I don't. I haven't seen her since I was six. I thought she was dead until last night.”

“You thought Princess Levania was dead ?! Who told you that?”

“My father.”

Nevan snorted. “Humans.” Then he sniffed Xander. “I detect your Shining One essence beneath the smoke. Oh, I mean fairy essence. That's what humans call us.”

“I know you're also called Shining Ones.” Xander pulled off the ring and headed back to the storage closet. “I actually understand why now that I've seen your eyes glow. Yours and my mother's.”

“Yes, it happens when we use magic, Nevan said absently as he followed Xander. “Where are you going with that?”

“I have to hide it. If my stepmother or stepbrothers see it, they'll take it from me.”

“Oh, no, they will not!” Nevan tapped the ring, and it disappeared.

Xander could still feel it. He was holding it. But the ring wasn't there. He gaped at the invisible ring.

Nevan beamed at him. “Go ahead. Put it on. It will help you with your lessons. ”

“My lessons? You're going to teach me how to summon things out of the air?”

“That and much more. As the son of a princess, your power should be impressive, even with your human blood tainting it.”

“If I'm the son of a princess, why didn't my mother take me to your world with her?”

“Humans aren't allowed in our world. And if you can't enter the world, you can't rule it. That's why I called you the son of a princess and not a prince.”

“Of course.” Restrictions on his happiness didn't surprise Xander. Frankly, he was surprised that there weren't more of them. They were probably coming later.

“Hey! You just went from a sad, little, ashy, smokey human to the son of a Shining One princess. Chin up, kid.”

“You're right. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. It's all a little overwhelming.”

“Well, of course it is! You're in the presence of one of the most handsome Shining One men in existence.” Nevan put his fists on his hips and posed. “Don't worry. You'll grow accustomed to my glory.”

Xander couldn't help it; he laughed.

Nevan, who was being perfectly serious, did not. He, in fact, scowled at Xander.

Xander cleared his throat. “So, did my mother say anything? Did she give you a message to pass on to me?”

Nevan's expression softened. “As it turns out, she did.

The Princess asked me to tell you how disappointed she is that she can't be the one to teach you the things a mother should teach her children.

She very much wanted to be that for you.

But she wants you to know that she'll be supervising through me. She has instructed me on precisely how she wants you taught.”

“Thank you, Nevan. Could you thank her for me and tell her that I love her?”

“Yes, of course.” He took a deep breath and, on the exhale, shook out his shoulders. “Let's banish all these yucky sad feelings. Magic will bring you great joy. I guarantee it.”

“Would you mind if I ate my breakfast before we begin? I'm happy to share.” Xander waved at his breakfast, which lay on a napkin on a ledge.

“Oh. Uh.” Nevan wandered over and peered at it. “No. You may not eat that.”

“What?”

“Your first lesson will be to take one thing and turn it into another. It's the easiest magic since you already have components to work with. You don't have to weave something from nothing.”

“But I'm hungry.”

“And you will eat well, Xander! Just as soon as you change your pathetic meal into something more palatable. Now, what would you like to break your fast with?”

“What would I like?” Xander frowned. “I don't know.”

“Can't you remember eating anything you enjoyed?”

“Scones,” he said suddenly, thinking about the warm scones he had served his stepmother the other day.

And then his memories went back even further.

“When I was little, I used to have fresh scones for breakfast. They were warm and came with a bowl of berries. I slathered them with jam and clotted cream. ”

“Yes, that's a good start.” Nevan patted Xander's shoulder sympathetically. “Very well. Think of your childhood scones. Imagine the smell. The heat of the pastry in your hands. Try to remember what they tasted like. Grasp every detail you can.”

Xander scowled at his wedge of cold meat pie and chunk of cheese. It was hard to imagine them as anything other than they were.

“Close your eyes,” Nevan said. “When you get better, you'll be able to cast with them open. But for now, closing your eyes will help you focus and see what you want to be there, not what is currently there.”

Xander closed his eyes. He summoned the memory of eating scones—the crumbs falling everywhere.

He used to love pressing the crumbs together to reunite them into a buttery lump.

He imagined doing that again, the sweet, thick cream forming puddles on his plate and the jam making his fingers sticky so that he'd have to suck them clean.

“When you feel that you have everything perfect, I want you to project that image onto those . . . food items,” Nevan said.

“Project it?”

“Yes, just sort of mentally push it into that disgusting chunk of whatever that is. Open your eyes when you cast it so you can direct the spell properly. Focus on the food changing.”

Xander thought these directions were severely lacking, but he followed them as best he could.

He reclaimed the image in his mind, then imagined that picture sailing from his head.

Opening his eyes to see his target, he kept the imagery going and pretended that it landed on the pie and cheese. Amazingly, they began to glow .

“Wonderful!” Nevan exclaimed.

But when the glow faded, the cheese was melted, and the pie was steaming. They were both otherwise the same.

Nevan went over and poked at the hot food. “Well, at least you got the temperature right.”

“I'm sorry,” Xander said.

“What? Why are you sorry?”

“That I didn't do better.”

Nevan chuckled. “Xander, lad, the first time I attempted this spell, my target exploded. Luckily, my mother knew the risks and had me cast from several feet away from the object.”

“You didn't have me back up.”

He grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Xander asked, “What was the object?”

Nevan's grin turned into a grimace. “It was a rock. An easy enough target, but my mother hadn't considered that the threat might be less if she'd chosen something softer.”

“So, I did all right?”

“Yes, you did well. Very well. I have high hopes for you.” He wagged a finger at Xander. “But I laid down a rule, and I can't be bending it on your first lesson. No breakfast until you've changed that into a scone.”

Xander squared his shoulders and nodded. “I'll do it.”

“There's the right attitude! Go on then.”

Feeling more hopeful than he had in years, Xander closed his eyes once more.

After all, he had felt the magic pass through him.

It was real. He may not have achieved the result he wanted, but he had done something incredible.

Magical. He could do magic! And Nevan had said all he needed to do to become more powerful was practice.

If that was the case, Xander would become the most powerful magic-user that he could.

He wouldn't give up until he reached his full potential.

What else did he have to strive for?