Page 18

18

ADELLUM

I watch Harmony as she tends to her garden behind Marda's restaurant, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, her hair tied back with a faded scarf. She works methodically, her calloused fingers gentle as they press seeds into the freshly turned soil. My chest tightens at the sight of her, the same way it has every day since I found her again.

It still feels like a dream, one I am desperate not to wake from. We may be different now, more harsh edges and anger than before, but at our core, we are the same. And just being near Harmony has ripped me open again.

I shift the package in my hands, the weight of it nothing compared to the weight of what I've lost.

"I brought something for you," I say, and she startles, those hazel-green eyes flashing up at me.

Her expression hardens instantly. "I'm working, Adellum."

"You're always working." I step closer, lowering myself to one knee beside her patch of zynthra. Not too close—I've learned that lesson. Push too hard and she retreats further. And I do want her to give in—I just don't mind forcing it, too. "It'll only take a moment."

She sits back on her heels, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. There's wariness in her eyes, but curiosity too. Good. I can work with curiosity.

"What is it this time?" she asks, her voice carefully neutral.

At least she's coming to accept my presence, and gifts.

I unwrap the cloth covering my latest offering. "Dreelk seeds," I say, revealing the small packet. "Not the common variety. These are from the southern mountains of Ikoth. They're more resilient to frost, and the leaves are less bitter. Better for Brooke, who I've noticed picks around the regular dreelk in her stew."

Harmony's fingers twitch, but she doesn't reach for the packet. "You're watching what my daughter eats now?"

"I watch everything," I say simply, because it's the truth. I've catalogued every detail of their lives since I found them—Brooke's preference for her stuffed lunox with the worn ear, how Harmony hums when she kneads dough, the way she always leaves the window cracked at night even when it's cold.

"That's—"

"Unsettling?" I offer with a half-smile. "Probably. But I have five years to make up for."

"Years you could have been with someone else. Someone appropriate." Her voice is tight, and I would kill to know what is going on in her head.

But she keeps me shut out, driving me mad and stirring my anger until I'm tempted to punish her for it, to make her see that she is mine and always has been.

The geode in my pocket digs into my thigh as I shift position, and I squeeze it in my palm, its edges grounding me. "There's only ever been you, Harmony."

She looks away, but I catch the tremor in her jaw. "I don't want to talk about this."

I hold back a sigh as I place the seeds on the ground between us. "These are just seeds, Harmony. Take them or don't."

But we both know they're not just seeds. They're another thread I'm weaving, binding her life back to mine.

She takes them, finally. "Thank you," she says stiffly.

I nod and stand, brushing dirt from my knees. My wings shift behind me, adjusting to the movement. "I have something else arriving tomorrow. A set of copper measuring cups from Shozuh. The handles are carved with protective sigils—they'll stay cool even over a flame."

Her eyes narrow. "Adellum?—"

"The pottery set you use has a crack in the largest cup. I've seen you compensate for it when you're baking."

"You can't just?—"

"I can, actually." I let my wings spread slightly, a reminder of what I am, of the power that runs through my veins. Not to frighten her—never that—but to remind her of the intensity that's always simmered between us. "I'm not hiding anymore, little bird. Not who I am, not what I want."

She stands too, facing me squarely despite being nearly a foot shorter. "And what exactly is it that you want? To disrupt the life I've built? To confuse Brooke? To?—"

"To reclaim what's mine," I say softly, cutting her off. "You. Brooke. This chance we should have had."

The twilight casts long shadows across her garden, painting her skin gold and bronze. She's so close I can smell the herbs on her fingers, the faint trace of meadowmint tea on her breath.

"I'm not yours," she whispers, but there's a hitch in her voice that betrays her.

I smile then, slow and sure, enjoying the way her pupils dilate in response. "Fight me if you want," I murmur, letting my voice drop to match the growing darkness around us. "But you'll lose."

I'm taking a step back to leave—I've learned not to overstay my welcome—when I hear the patter of small feet and a high-pitched squeal that sends a jolt through my chest.

"Dell! Dell! You're here!"

Brooke barrels around the corner of the garden, all wild energy and flailing limbs, her pale-blond curls bouncing with each step. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, wings tucking tight against my back as I drop to one knee and open my arms just in time for her to crash into me.

"Little bird," I murmur against her hair, breathing in that peculiar scent of childhood—soap and dirt and something uniquely sweet. My arms encircle her small frame, and I marvel at how perfectly she fits there, how right she feels. She might not be mine, but everything about Harmony was always meant for me.

Even her daughter.

I catch Harmony's eyes over Brooke's head. Her face is a battleground of emotions—fear, anger, and something else I can't quite name. Or perhaps won't let myself name yet.

"You promised to show me the lightning bugs today," Brooke says, pulling back to fix me with those enormous silver eyes—my eyes, though neither of us acknowledge it aloud. "You didn't forget, did you?"

"I never forget a promise," I tell her solemnly. I rise to my feet, lifting her with me, and spin her around once, then twice, her delighted laughter cutting through the evening air like bells. "Especially not promises to princesses."

"I'm not a princess," she giggles, but her small hands grip my shoulders tightly, trusting me completely despite knowing me for only a few weeks. The weight of that trust is almost unbearable.

"Says who? You look like royalty to me." I set her down gently, keeping one hand on her shoulder as I glance at Harmony. "I'm going to show her the thaliverns. We won't go far." I give her the illusion of an option.

Harmony's jaw works back and forth. I can almost hear her thoughts—the need to protect Brooke warring with the knowledge that I can teach her daughter things about magic that no one else in this village can.

"Please, Mama?" Brooke wheedles, bouncing on her toes. When Harmony hesitates, tiny golden sparks dance from Brooke's fingertips, a manifestation of her excitement that makes my heart swell with pride. Such natural talent, untamed and beautiful.

"Fine," Harmony relents, her shoulders dropping slightly. "But stay within sight of the garden, please."

I nod, not pushing my luck by arguing for more. I like to test Harmony, then make her break for me, but when it comes to Brooke, I have infinite patience. "Of course."

I take Brooke's small hand in mine, her fingers warm and impossibly delicate. We walk to the edge of the garden where tall grass meets wildflowers, the sky deepening into indigo above us.

"Watch now," I say, crouching beside her. "Thaliverns are shy creatures. They don't come when called or chased."

"Then how do we see them?" Brooke asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

I reach out, drawing a small circle in the air with my finger. A faint shimmer follows the movement, leaving a trace of silver light hanging in the dusk. "Magic is about intention, little bird. About believing something is possible before it happens."

Brooke's forehead crinkles in concentration as she tries to mimic my gesture. Nothing happens at first, and her lower lip juts out in frustration.

"Here," I say gently, taking her hand in mine again. "Like this." I guide her finger through the air, a slow, deliberate circle. "Feel the air changing? That's your magic pushing against it."

I release her hand, and she tries again. This time, the faintest glimmer follows her movement.

"I did it!" she gasps.

"Yes, you did." I can't stop the smile that spreads across my face, fierce and protective. "Now watch."

I extend my palm toward the shimmer we've created, and whisper words in an ancient language—words of invitation, not command. The air around us thickens with possibility, and then, like stars descending, dozens of thaliverns emerge from hiding places in the grass.

They're more luminescent than ordinary butterflies, their four iridescent wings catching the last light of day and fracturing it into rainbow prisms. They swirl around us, drawn to the magical circle Brooke helped create.

One lands on her outstretched finger, and she freezes, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' of astonishment.

"They're dancing for you," I tell her, watching her face glow with joy. "Because they recognize you as one of their own—a being of light and magic."

I glance back toward the garden where Harmony stands watching us, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The distance between us might as well be an ocean, but I'll cross it. One way or another.

I've been patient. I've been careful. I've schooled my rage into something that resembles restraint. For Brooke, I will always be tenderness itself, a safe harbor for her growing magic. But for Harmony—my Harmony—I am a storm barely contained.

She built walls while I was gone, barriers of stone and bitter memory. But walls can be scaled. Broken. Remade into bridges.

I will have her back. Not because I'm selfish—though I am—but because we belong together, the three of us. A family. My family.

And I will burn the world to ash before I let them slip through my fingers again.