Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

One Year Later

T he tiny nose and tips of hooves was all I could see at first, mottled black and white. Crouched behind Peggy, a hand settled on her hip, I reached out and touched the foal’s nose, feeling a pulse of magic from him. “I can see him, Peggy, keep pushing. You’re almost there.”

Peggy lay flat on her side, breathing hard, wings and legs stretched taut as she strained. Sweat slicked her white hide and made her appear more gray than white. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes were wide as she stared at the far side of the oversized stall. Because no one had ever seen a land kelpie-pegasus hybrid, we’d all thought it best for Peggy to foal at the Alaskan court, closest to the best healers in the realm.

Contractions rippled through Peggy’s body and flexed and squeezed her middle, and she groaned. “Him and his big fat head did this to me. Put it back, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

My jaw dropped. “It’s…it’s too late for that, Peggy.”

“I fucking well know it’s too fucking late.” She roared as she bore down on a spasm. “That fucking land kelpie did this to me!”

Sounded like Peggy was being reborn…

Was it possible that she’d take up Kik’s old mantle?

She sagged and her whole body heaved with her labored breathing. I shook my head. This wasn’t like with people—Peggy had told me that much—she’d said birthing would be quick once the nose and feet had presented.

But this…wasn’t going well. Thirty minutes had passed.

A hand on my shoulder tugged me from Peggy, and Sigella took my place. “Peg, we all know males are terrible. This future one you carry is so stubborn that he got lost somewhere inside of you. Now we need to pull him out. Agreed?”

Peggy let out a sob. “Agreed. I…I can’t do this alone.”

Somewhere outside the barn Kik was yelling at people. Demanding to know what was going on. Because he knew what we did— we were running out of time.

Please, Gaia, don’t let my friend lose her foal to death. No matter how troublesome he will be, and no matter what the future holds for him with Keefe, Peggy needs her child to live.

There was no answer from Gaia. She’d been quiet on many matters I could have used her help with over the last year, and I suspected that she’d largely left me to figure out balance now that everything had settled down.

“Are you ready?” Sigella asked.

“I need to stand.” Peggy whispered.

“No—”

Too late. Peggy was on her feet, head down, sides heaving. Two tiny hooves waiting to be grabbed. I wrapped my hands on the skinny legs just above them and looked at Sigella.

“With the contractions,” she told me.

Peggy groaned and swayed, and as the contraction came on, I pulled downward. I could have ripped him free, I was strong enough, but that surely would have hurt Peggy.

“Again,” Peggy groaned.

Another contraction, another tug, and this time the little—or not-so-little—colt’s head and neck appeared. I didn’t have time to look at coloring.

Peggy screamed with the next contraction, and I pulled again, but his shoulders were sticking…I didn’t want to pull too hard?—

“Pull him out!” Peggy yelled.

I connected to the earth below me as an anchor and pulled downward with as smooth and steady a motion as I could manage.

His shoulders popped free, and he fell toward me, forcing me to catch him before he hit the ground.

“I got him, I got him,” I blurted, and then looked up.

Blood. There was too much blood. “Sigella!”

“I’m on it,” she said, her movements quick but calm. “A simple thing, hardly anything to worry about.”

I didn’t look down at the foal in my arms. I couldn’t look away from Peggy as she swayed on her feet. Sigella’s magic wove around her, sealing off the torn flesh, soothing the damage the oversized colt had caused.

“Thank you,” Peggy whispered as she buckled to her knees in the thick straw and collapsed onto her side.

I could barely hang onto the squirming, wet foal. “Peggy!”

“She sleeps.” Sigella turned to me. “She needs it. It has been three days since she was able to rest.”

I peered down at the colt. He blinked up at me, eyes as mottled as his coat, swirling with black and white.

“Hello.” I lowered him to the straw and brushed some slime off with a wave of my hand. The tiniest pair of wings sprouted from his back, and I didn’t know if they would grow with him or if they were token wings. He was thick from head to toe, built far more like a land kelpie than the finer-boned Pegasus.

I ran my hand over his face, marveling. I’d seen much death over the last year, as the war raged between the humans and fae.

Seeing life, even one destined to be trouble, was…

He reached out, sniffed at my leg, and then, striking with the speed of a naga, he bit my calf with enough force that I fell backward.

“What the hell?”

He whinnied and showed me a set of teeth in a mocking smile.

Little fucker!

“They should not be born with teeth,” Peggy said softly. “I think perhaps we should use the bottles you suggested, Sigella.”

Sigella grunted. “I agree with you, my friend.”

“Should I let Kik in?” I reeled away as the colt tried to stand, his long gangly legs going in all directions. “Or should I tell him to go away?”

“Go away?” Peggy tipped her head. “Why would you tell him to go away?”

“Because you said this was all his fault, you…you swore at him, Peggy,” I said. “You said?—”

She rolled so that she was still lying down, but in a more upright position. “Childbirth will do that, Silver. And it is his fault. Bring Kik in to meet his son.”

I was confused, but I was used to that. It seemed like I was confused by something nearly every damn day of my life. So I strode across the barn.

Opening the door, I peeked out. “Kik? All is well, you can?—”

He nearly ran me over as he bolted inside. I stepped back and slowly walked up to join the family.

“Oh wow, Peggy, look at him,” Kik said. “You did great, amazing. He’s awfully big, isn’t he? Fricky dicky, he’s huge. How did you push him out? Will you be the same down there?”

I winced. Probably not the best thing to ask…

“Hey, fff?—.”

I froze. Who’d said that? Such a little voice…

It couldn’t be.

I ran the rest of the way to the stall to find Sigella shaking with laughter.

“He…he…oh my gods. He has your mouth, Kelpie.” She snorted.

“I was an early talker too,” Kik said proudly, drawing himself tall.

The foal gave a full body shudder, then bobbed his head with each word. “Hey, fucker. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Was this foal an early talker? Or an immediate talker?

Kik shook his head. “I don’t talk like that! Now. That’s not…Peggy, what have you been saying around our son?”

I laughed with Sigella as the new parents squabbled over who’d done what. Even as they did so, Kik nuzzled against the foal—which didn’t bite his father as he’d done with me. Kik already knew that while they’d share a joyous two decades with their child, Keefe would then claim the foal for the thirty years after. I was sure that he and Peggy were desperately trying not to think about that time right now.

Beings with power like ours had to learn to appreciate these happy occasions without giving our fear of future days too much space.

I let my heart fill at the sight of them together. One thing had worked out. Peggy was alive, the foal was alive, and they’d already agreed to name him Pik, a mix of their two names.

One crisis averted, but another awaited me.

I walked toward the palace, using my magic to pull the birthing fluids off me. A flick of my fingers cast them aside.

As it was nearing three in the morning, the palace was quiet with only a few fae hurrying about. Sheathed weapons were strapped to their hips and thighs and the fae wore the weapons like they were used to the weight of them—and used to wielding them. The Alaskan Court was far different to how I’d first seen it, and while I knew that some of the changes were due to the effect of my power on this realm, my sister had changed many things in the last year too—for the better, I thought. The glitter was gone, and Kallik expected every fae to sharpen their skills in an area that benefited fae in the war against humans. Fae dressed for function now instead of flare. Opulence had been exchanged for necessity and practicality.

The constant presence of my power was connecting fae and humans to their innate urge to survive. Each day both races remembered and respected more of their primal natures. One day, all creatures would exist on Earth as I had when growing up in the previous Underhill. We would return to the simple cycle of life and death and predator and prey. Because with everything else removed, all creatures understood their place and the risks. That made my job easier.

I knocked on Kallik’s door.

“Sister. Come in.”

I smiled and opened the door. Kallik sat on her bed, maps and papers strewn over her lap.

“Come. Sit with me.” She patted the small clear spot beside her. “I’d assumed you were coming.”

I scanned the room until I found the black rose hovering over her breakfast table. My smile grew wider, though my heart ached. I crossed to the rose and gently took it between my fingers.

“He keeps close tabs on you,” Kallik said.

Andas left me black roses everywhere, a reminder of our thorned beginnings, his darkness, and the challenging path we’d chosen to walk together.

“Where’s Lan?” I asked her, walking over to the bed.

“He’s in Louisiana. Working with the new regent. She’s young and terrified, but determined to salvage as much of her court as she can.” Her eyes narrowed. “As for those who attacked her. Well, that’s another story.”

I sunk into the soft mattress beside her, saying nothing about the path I’d seen for the young regent with the dark brown hair and softer brown eyes. Lisella. She was brave and smart, but…she wouldn’t live long. “Have Faolan look to Remy.”

Kallik’s sharp gaze swung to me. “Remy is third in line for regency in Louisiana.”

I shrugged and leaned back, closing my eyes. “So he is…for the time being. Will Faolan return soon?”

“Soon,” she muttered. “Not soon enough. You should rest for a while. You look worn out.”

So did the queen.

So did everyone fighting the war for balance. We’d look like this for a long time yet.

Like me, Kallik had spent a great deal of time away from her mate. General Faolan was invaluable to the war effort. She saw him far more regularly than I saw Andas, however. A year. Already a year had passed since I’d last seen him, since I’d been able to do more than curse his name or rage at the rampant unbalance spread by his actions.

I picked up the black rose and rolled it between my fingers, listening to Kallik rummage through papers as I stared at the flower.

When I’d left Andas in his new realm to check on my friends and family, I’d never expected so much time would pass before I would see him again. I should have checked our fate before leaving him that day. When I’d finally thought to do so weeks later, our immediate path had driven me to my knees.

Ten years.

I wouldn’t see him for another nine years.

We could just portal to one another if we chose to, of course. I’d nearly broken and done so many times. If I did so, however, then balance would take a serious blow that would hurt thousands of my creatures. I’d gathered that if Andas did so, then his current hold over the realms would take a similar hit. Gaia’s silent message was clear enough to interpret.

But ten years…

I couldn’t fathom what would become of us after so long apart. Perhaps, given a few centuries, ten years would feel like a blink.

Gaia had warned me that time was a predator I didn’t yet know.

I’d assumed that Andas and I would come and go from each other’s lives as we pleased. I’d been so fixated on peering farther down our path that I’d failed to look at the hours, days, and weeks of the immediate future of us.

There would be times when we could come and go as we pleased—times when our powers were well balanced. The time between those patches was a terrible fate to behold. But maybe, just maybe Andas and I would figure that out as we’d figured out the rest.

Surprisingly, I slept in my sister’s bed, though my dreams were bits and pieces of the war we’d fought so far. The deaths, the fighting, the unreasonable fear from my children. My fae children understood this was an era that would pass. They trusted in me to fight that battle. The humans were also mine, but they did not listen or trust well. Their decisions to take realm-sized decisions upon themselves led to disaster more often than not.

I woke only when I heard Kallik’s voice rise with excitement. “That’s good news indeed. A temporary ceasefire. One week. Agreed.”

I jerked upright. “Ceasefire?” The war wasn’t over by any means. I could see far too many incidents coming down the line for it to be over. But I’d never considered the possibility of a ceasefire.

Kallik paced the room. “Yes, one week, starting tonight at midnight. A respite to get food and supplies to various camps.”

“How? Who suggested it?”

Kallik’s eyes went to mine. “A friend of yours. One you saw not too long ago?”

I was up and running, already knowing who’d made this happen. Orlaith. I’d seen her a week before and…she’d seemed sad.

I bolted from the palace, portaling toward the cave where the naga and the tree of life resided. This was always where I met with my Traitor, and I was assuming Andas met with his Trickster at his tree of life.

And there was Orlaith, standing as if she’d waited for the sun to rise. Even in the dark, glimmers of silver showed in her skirts as she moved. She was more mine than Andas’s, for whatever her slight allegiance was worth. Still, she’d fallen into her role—and Keefe into his—with an ease that had confirmed I’d put everyone on the right path.

From whispers around the realm, I’d gleaned that fae saw the father and daughter as great powers who did the dirty work of Balance and Unbalance. Which was right in a sense.

“Hello, Silver.”

“Orlaith.” I stared. “Why did you do it?”

Her smile was…not that of a friend, but it was the smile of a person who’d been with me through hard times. “You miss him. You need to see him, and he needs to see you. Plus, you charged me with walking the line of ‘enough’ balance, not perfect balance. If you won’t make this choice for yourself, then I’m willing to do so.”

My heart did a double thump. “That’s not why.”

Her smile slid a little. “I miss you.” Her words were quiet and small. “I know our friendship will never be what it was, Silver. I know that, and that just is what it is. But I do hold you in my heart, and believe it or not, I do want to make your life less sad when I can. This is one of those times.”

My eyebrows arched. “So Keefe’s sleeping, huh?”

Her smile was wide, and light flashed in her eyes. “Yes. He has no idea that one of my people spoke in his stead at the summit. I have a week to play with the French fae I just met—oh, he is luscious and has such a connection to the president of France and to the King of England if you can believe it. He’ll be a good addition to our side.” Her wink said it all. She had plans up her sleeve.

Orlaith loved the game she played. She thrived at it, and while I had to curb her darkness now and again, she was a fast learner and had crossed the line of balance less and less in recent months. This was the first time she’d done so by choice, and she’d done it for me. I couldn’t find it in me to deal out any consequences.

“A week,” I whispered. A whole week?

She dipped her head, then curtsied. “You’re welcome.”

I stepped toward her, and she flinched.

I grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug.

She hesitated, then hugged me back. For just a moment, we were Silver and Orlaith. While I’d never be able to fully trust her, she played a part that allowed me to love Andas. Orlaith had never asked for this, just as I’d never asked to be Underhill. We shared that, and so—yes—I cared about Orlaith in a different way than when she was a bat.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Do you need me to get a message to him?”

I shook my head and put distance between us again as our roles settled over us once more.

“No, he’ll know where to find me.” I smiled and turned from Orlaith, portaling to a place only Andas and I knew.

The cave where we had first chosen ourselves—the cave where we’d first explored one another. It hovered between realms and was dark enough for Andas to occupy, but its location on Earth meant I could maintain my connection to Underhill.

The cave didn’t look like it once had, dark and dank. I’d expanded it and created space for a large bed. Because being bent over a rock while we made love didn’t appeal long term. I’d looped strings of light to hang from the ceiling like stars. An ever-present fire burned in an alcove, combatting the dark and the moisture. And I’d grown a thick layer of moss on the rocks so that every step was easy on my bare feet.

How long would it take him to find me? Should I have let him know or?—

“So this is what you’ve been up to,” he drawled. “You must’ve had some spare time.”

I answered, “I needed a distraction. I waged war and made our nest more comfortable. It’s not my fault you can’t do multiple things at once.”

I spun to see Andas lounging in a chair I hadn’t brought here. He’d set it down by the bed.

“You didn’t wait till midnight.” My words were breathless because the sight of him—powerful, dark, and here —stole the air from my body. He hadn’t changed at all aside from the new layer of pain in his gaze. I held the same pain. It was the pain of being away from the other half of you, forced apart by circumstances and duty.

A wicked smile curved his lips. “Neither did you.”

My stomach fluttered. I hadn’t touched him in a year, and I wasn’t sure how to break the strange awkwardness that had fallen between us. Did he still want me? I’d yearned for him in every waking hour and sleeping hours too. The year that had passed had felt like ten, all of it riddled with a growing uncertainty of whether he would still be the same at the end of our time apart—and whether I would still feel the same.

“How do we do this?” I whispered. I wanted to leap on him and tear his clothes off, but so much had happened in the last twelve months…so much pain and damage. He’d caused it all, and I’d been a constant pain in his side. I’d yearned for him at every moment. I’d been horrified by his acts time and again in the last year too. I’d raged at him and cursed his name.

And now we were here…

In his eyes, I saw the same uncertainty. Maybe we’d been foolishly hopeless to believe this could ever work.

“In this cave,” Andas said. “Nothing exists except us. That’s how we do this. We accept that what’s outside remains outside and is inevitable—that we are mere vessels for the work of greater beings. But whenever we’re here, we leave that at the door.”

Could I switch all my thoughts off?

I let my focus roam over him and felt my body warm. The cave suddenly felt very hot. “I have an idea of what might help.”

“Fuck and talk later?” he asked.

I stared at him, at every line of his body that I’d longed for and wished to touch, then nodded. “Fuck first. Talk later.”