25. Stella

25

STELLA

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck,” I whisper to the coil of wire in my hands hot with my magic, ignoring Andrew’s shock and Connors’s lips pressed in mirth. The worktable in the back room of the bookshop is clear enough, but the space around it is cramped so there’s no avoiding the men around me.

Apparently, any time I’m outside the Firefly, I get two bodyguards. A fact I hadn’t known with Ben always being with me.

I focus on the little details to keep my mind from wandering. There are a few sticky subjects that I ignore as I attempt to weave my magic. Stoneheart’s departure this morning, Ben’s awkwardness…I take a deep breath, and the scent of old paper comforts me even as I scowl at the metal.

It’s better that Ben is absent. We haven’t had much time to discuss what occurred on my aunt’s piano, but every time my gaze meets his, I remember the sensation of his body stretching mine, the look of awe that couldn’t be suppressed by the pain that he so enjoyed. Stoneheart’s high-handed directions.

My husband wanting to place a claiming bite on my demon.

It’s very distracting.

Today is a rare day where Ben has been in and out, needing to check on some things in Kalos’s territory and making inquiries of other fae magic users. There aren’t many on this side of the gates, and they don’t exactly advertise if they still have the capability to use magic.

The fact he found Rowan at all is impressive.

The fae huffs a laugh at my cursing as he places a stack of ancient looking books on the other side of the worktable from me. He still has an hour before he opens to the public, and though he’d offered to shut down his business to assist me, there’s not much for him to do after the first day we sat down and discussed the nature of fae magic.

I keep returning to work here because, even after that, I’m still struggling to comprehend how their magic system works. It seems that once anyone has decided on anything enough to put it down in a book, the magic changes. Almost like it is sentient.

Along with that super flexibility, a lot of spells seem mostly left up to chance. Rowan explained that the way the fae feel about fate and their place in the world coincides with the behavior of the magic.

In short, it’s a mess.

“You’re wanting it to be too orderly still,” Rowan says, squinting at the wire in my hands.

“Orderly is not something anyone would call me,” I grouse.

He’d been skittish when we’d shown up on his doorstep a couple of days ago, but he’s eased since then. Perhaps understanding that we aren’t Lorenzo and that we’re not going to punish him for any crimes another fae has committed.

Rowan looks to be in his forties, and under his glamour, his green skin is flecked with green speckles that makes me wonder if he’s related to a type of troll. He’s tall but lacks the width a troll would have.

The fact that he can still manipulate magics outside of the fae realm and his appearance probably means that he was born here with a mixed heritage. From what I know, fae bloodlines are flexible with abilities and attributes skipping generations.

Every so often, you’ll hear about a human with no knowledge of our world manifesting fae attributes. I’d never thought to wonder what happens to them until I met Katarina. She didn’t know she was a witch for most of her childhood, and the discovery that fae blood is what gives her the ability to bypass wards only occurred recently.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to weave the magic tightly enough to nullify all the variabilities the magic can manifest as.” I frown. I’ve tried a few methods that I thought of while waiting for Rowan to complete his deep dive into research, and this was the one I thought might work. One can’t very well pass through a ward if they can’t use their magic, can they?

But there are infinite pathways that fae magic can take and trying to guard against all of them is overloading the capacity of the charm.

When we’d told Rowan our worries, he’d said that he hadn’t heard of the ability of bypassing wards and would need some time to research it. Which is a fucking relief for the implications that witch magic is vulnerable to the fae, but that doesn’t change the fact that people have been taken and the wards left intact.

And a certain dragon’s mate has proved that it’s possible to bypass wards.

There have been no new missing persons that we know of, but Fiona let slip during my training yesterday that the territory still feels on edge. I escaped her kind teachings this morning because she’s a part of the team that is checking on the Sova family lead.

Rowan opens one of the ancient books in front of him and gestures to the symbol on the page. The writing isn’t a language I understand, but the symbol looks like a family crest. Instead of an animal though, it’s a plant.

“I’ve been as thorough as I can with the collection of books I have, but there was in fact one family line that had the ability to bypass magics.” Rowan frowns at the yellowed page. “Their name is hard for me to pronounce, but it translates to roughly to Nightshade.”

My heart sinks even though Katarina’s existence attests it was possible all along. “So whoever is doing this, may have a Nightshade working for them?”

Rowan’s scholarly expression flattens. “It’s unlikely. They were systematically exterminated a few centuries ago. They pissed off the royal court. The kill order is still active for any stragglers, which by this time is mostly humans who manifest that ability.”

I control my face. It’s a good thing Katarina never went digging for family, and that she has Kalos’s protection.

“But it’s possible,” I say.

Connors has been good with taking Ben’s position in checking my assumptions through this process and interjects. “If that’s the case, and this family is so rare, that’s one person at most who would be invading these people’s homes and subduing them without anyone being the wiser.”

I frown. Some of the families taken had upward of four adults. One person would have to be very well-equipped.

Which makes it more unlikely.

“Is it possible we’ve gone the wrong direction with thinking this is a fae magic thing?” Andrew of the expressive face asks. This is the first time he’s loosened from his awkward stance since Ben left this morning.

I hum, considering. My mind did get stuck on fae magic because I know what Katarina can do. “You don’t think fae are involved?”

Andrew shakes his head. “We know they are, especially with tracking the Sova family. But it sounds like fae magic is finnicky in the fae realm, let alone here.”

Rowan shrugs in agreement. “The fae can make spelled objects, similar to witch’s charms. Those are more stable, but it would be a considerable expense. Not to mention that it would utilize a spell that no one has ever made before.”

And if we don’t know how the charm functions, we wouldn’t be able to counter it. Another dead end, but I mull the details around in my head.

Andrew continues past Rowan’s doubtful expression, casting a wider net. “What if it’s not that they are bypassing the wards, what then? Could a witch spell do this? Or even glamour? Would a ward work if someone is in disguise?”

“A ward works based on intention. A disguise wouldn’t work against it. Can fae magic commingle with a ward and rewrite it?” I ask Rowan who shakes his head.

“I considered that when you approached me. I spoke to my brother about this project. He’s a ward master, and he confirmed what I suspected. Fae magic and the way we draw wards here have no chance of commingling. Wards are too meticulous of a magic.”

“And your brother knows not to spread this around?” Connors asks.

Rowan’s lips twitch. “He’s not a talkative one.”

“Your brother can craft wards and be fae?” I ask.

“Ah, no.” Rowan scratches his head. “Sorry, we’re half siblings. His mother is a witch.”

I sigh. Witch wards do not play well with anything. Even crafting charms to boost them requires a lot of skill.

One misplaced line on a ward, and the whole intention can change. I think on that, and we brainstorm some more, Andrew throwing in interesting questions since he’s not very well versed in magic, but it all leads us back to the fact that we don’t have enough information.

I wipe my hand down my face. “If I don’t know how they are getting past wards, I can’t make a counter. I’ve tried to craft a charm that can block fae magic, but it’s not going well.”

I wave a hand at the wire on the tabletop.

“Maybe just a ward booster would work?” Connors winces. “I know those are possible to make, and that would make people feel safer.”

I shake my head. “But it wouldn’t be real safety. Not if someone is bypassing wards altogether. The Sova family already had one of my charms on their ward.”

“The appearance of safety is as important as actually securing the territory,” Connors says.

I bite my lip, not wanting to admit defeat. I’ll admit I was na?ve when I proclaimed to Stoneheart my intention, but it feels right no matter how impossible it seems. I want to give people legitimate safety, not our best approximate guess.

“I’ll think on it.” I glare at the useless metal. “I just wish I had something more solid.”

“Sometimes what we are able to do is all we can do,” Andrew says, sounding as dejected as I feel. A malaise settles over the room, and we return to our tasks. Rowan trying to add energy with his readying bustle, and my bodyguards taking turns checking the boundaries of the bookshop.

I nearly chew through my lip while failing another attempt that fizzles and leaves a scorch mark on Rowan’s table before coming to the conclusion that I’m done for the day. Trying to weave something into existence in which we don’t know if it’s possible is exhausting. The frustration itself of failing while knowing that I’m operating sightlessly, and that if we had just one or two more details, things would surely fall into place is an angrier churn than indigestion.

I scowl at my materials as I pack them up, and Andrew fidgets. He seems like he wants to say something but with my mood, I don’t know if I want to talk to anyone. Especially a Leonid. Though, that’s unfair since he’s younger than I am and wasn’t involved in Lorenzo’s actions toward my mother.

And he was helpful today.

Get over yourself, Stella. People are counting on you to create security and peace. I take a breath and focus on the teen.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He freezes like he wasn’t looking for an opening. My lips twitch, and he shakes himself a little bit.

“Yes. I—” He breaks off and looks uncomfortable. “I wanted to apologize.”

I blink. “For what? Your prodding led us to realize that we’re trying to solve a problem without knowing exactly what it is.”

“Your wedding night.” Andrew winces. “My brother and I are the reason your things weren’t in the suite.”

Ah. My stomach sinks. I want to claim that with everything that happened, I’d forgotten about the issue that had led me to pull Ben into this fray. But I hadn’t.

The chasm of that night, with contemplating the reasons someone would do such a thing, even suspecting Stoneheart may have set it up for a moment, only for it to be the act of a couple of teenagers…it’s a phantom pain rearing up unexpectedly. Because it did hurt to suspect it to be the Leonids, but it’s worse now to get confirmation that I am unwelcome.

The nature of my birth continues. Lorenzo rejected me so how can I really be surprised that others would do the same?

Ariel asserts that I’m some hoped-for sign, but does anyone else really think that?

I close my eyes and try to release the old wounds telling me that I’m not enough. Because reading that action as rejection is bullshit. I know it’s bullshit, and I’m going to prove them all wrong.

“Why?” I ask. Because now that he’s torn off the poorly healed scars, I want to know.

“My brother does stupid pranks. He’d already—” Andrew’s cheeks flush, and it’s as if the hurt in my chest is his pain as well. “I don’t have any excuse. I’m so sorry.”

A prank by a teenager. There’s no reason for it to scratch at raw places in my soul.

I am lady of this territory and have a responsibility to all the people here to look at situation with clear eyes. I pull myself up to my full height, and Andrew by instinct, tilts his bowed head and bares his neck.

“You helped him start trouble,” I say.

He winces. “He’s rash at the best of times, and I was afraid what Stoneheart would do to him if he were caught.”

“You’re not responsible for his actions.”

He doesn’t immediately agree. Has he always been the responsible one? Finally, Andrew clears his throat. “I have been. All my life. My father decreed it, but you’re right. He’s not here anymore.”

I blink, remembering that his father is Frank. I don’t know anything about what his home life was like with what we know about Lorenzo.

I don’t continue for a moment, watching Andrew’s anxiety rise and his need to fidget almost overtake him. With a determined breath, the worst of my feelings surrounding the situation drain. I will be the leader Lorenzo should have been.

“Thank you for apologizing,” I say. Andrew’s shoulders drop in relief.

I can’t deny the results of that night.

The prank may have stung, but it’s also the reason I summoned Ben into this whole mess…and I’m not sorry for that.