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His eyes widen in recognition, and a nostalgic smile takes root on his face. It softens his features in a way that frazzles my nerves. I’ve never seen him look so… wistful.
“I can’t believe I’ve never noticed before,” he says more to himself than to me. He reaches a hand for the animal skull, but pulls back before his fingers can make contact.
I sit up straighter, crossing one leg underneath me. “You recognize this?”
He seems to weigh my question, his gaze darting from the skull to my face. With a drawn out exhale, he says, “you were on the right path with wanting to see my horns. Except these aren’t mine — they’re my mother’s.”
Hope blossoms in my chest like a warm ray of sunlight. We’re getting somewhere. “Any idea why your mother would be immortalized in a trinket? You said you don’t consider the King a father. Is it different with the Queen?”
“My relationship with Minka is very different. She’s not Queen, by the way; she’s the King’s Consort. For Minka to claim Queendom would be a major offense to her husband.“
I file that information away for… when? My untimely death? I doubt I’ll be holding court with the King, when I’m a soul in the Beyond. “How is your relationship different?”
He lowers his gaze to his lap, where he flexes a fist. “She chose me. The moment she saw me, she knew I was hers. It’s like something… snapped into place. Call it motherly instinct. Relationships between my people are transactional; you’re worth what you have to offer. Minka serves the King, is his eyes and ears among society’s highest circles, and in return, he offers her protection and fulfills each of her whims. In exchange for a lasting legacy, the King taught me everything I know.” He quiets then, a tick in his jaw marking the passing seconds. When he speaks again, it’s in a whisper. “There’s nothing transactional about Minka’s devotion toward me. She gives without ever expecting in return.”
My chest aches listening to him speak. That’s how relationships should be, free of expectations and quid-pro-quo’s. Free of but’s and what if’s. Goodness knows I’ve been looking for a relationship like that since Mama died. “You love her.”
Tei flinches, as if the mere mention of love offends his sensitivity, but after a deep breath, he nods. “Love is a human emotion and way too fickle to describe what I feel for my mother, but yes. I suppose you could say that I do.”
“I don’t think love is fickle.” I don’t know why I’m holding onto that like a dog with a bone. “Affection, maybe, but true love… it’s the kind of power not even death can sever.”
He eyes me wearily. “And you say that because your life is so full of this never ending love?”
The jab should anger me more, but the way he delivers it, like he’s genuinely curious about the answer, softens the blow.
“It’s exactly because I haven’t experienced a lot of it that I know how precious it is.” My eyes sting, so I tip my head back, staring at the ceiling, to keep tears from falling. “So precious, I’m willing to die just to experience it again. If I ever found someone who could love me for all I am, who would want only the best for me, no matter what it takes… I’d never let that go. And I would do anything for their happiness.”
Tei’s human fingers wrap around my chin, warm like a cup of morning coffee, and tip my head so I’m looking at him. I can’t decipher his expression; there’s a softness I’ve never seen, that makes him look as vulnerable as breathtaking. It kicks my heartbeat into overdrive.
“You’re one of a kind, little gem.”
chapter 28
of witches past and present
teizel
“What did y’all talk about last night?” Mei asks as she floats into the kitchen where I’m making coffee. Caffeine has no effect on me, but I have to admit the drink is one of humanity’s best tasting inventions.
I cock an eyebrow at her question. Not that it’s unusual for Mei to stick her nose in my business, but there’s something fidgety about her stance, a nervous undercurrent to her tone.
Or maybe I’m still frazzled by my encounter with Esme, and I’m imagining things. The ghost of her lips still presses heavily on mine.
I attempt to keep my tone casual. “She found the meaning behind another trinket.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?” She moves toward me with inhuman speed, her feet hovering centimeters from the floor. “Spill.”
I shrug and explain how, once we figured the horned skull was a representation of my mother, Esme postulated the trinket must represent the moment I was taken in by the Royal family. It’s a good guess.
She gnaws at her thumb. “Did she tell you how she figured it out?”
I do tell her about Esme’s encounter with the ghost scared of Guardians and her request to see my horns. Mei nods and hums at appropriate times in the story, but doesn’t seem all that interested. Or maybe, surprised.
“What are you hiding, meddling ghost?” I ask.
“Don’t get any weird ideas, now. I’m just getting up to speed.”
She’s not being entirely truthful, but I don’t have bandwidth left for Mei’s antics.
