Saga took a moment to glance at Avery’s ears, then her eyes. Here she lingered longer and Avery couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the warm golden earthy shade of Saga’s own irises. There were notes of dark honey intermixed in the color.
“Your ears have a slight point—which I admit I didn’t notice until we were at Hygge—and your eyes are hard to describe. Like mercury…?”
Avery exhaled a breath she’d been holding. “You can see through glamours,” she whispered, awed.
“What’s a—”
“A minor illusion spell, nearly every fey can perform it—it’s how we’ve been able to walk among humans without detection. When I was trying to ask about your hair that day, that’s why I was confused. When I was last awake, I never could have gone out into the world as just myself—not because it would scare anyone but because my features are inhuman enough that people would ask questions… Are you wearing any charms right now?”
Saga shook her head. Her worry made a small crinkle form between her eyebrows. “Just my Brigid medallion.”
“Remove it?”
She clasped it protectively. “Why?”
“Please, this is important, I’m just trying to test a theory.”
Saga sighed and carefully drew the chain over her head and handed itto Avery.
“Any change?”
Saga checked the monitor, confused. “Was something supposed to change?”
“Just my expectations, I suppose.” Avery reverently replaced the necklace over Saga’s head. “Fascinating, I wonder if that talent extends to all illusions or just this sort.”
Saga pulled her hair out from underneath the chain and craned her neck to get a better look at them both on the monitor. “So this is how everyone else sees you?”
“I have made a few minor changes to remove any feature inherited from my father’s side, or that would draw suspicion or attention. I bound the spell to a wearable item so I can leave it on. It saves me time…”
“What is it bound to?”
Avery reached to her own collar to lift and expose a silver chain worn beneath her shirt before dropping it out of sight again. “I’ve never met anyone with True Sight.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” said Saga.
“You see things for what they are.Mostly. It’s immune to illusions, but not to something that physically changes appearance like shape-shifters.” Avery’s tongue clicked in realization. “Which is why you didn’t realize your uncle was a jinn.”
“Not until an awkward conversation with my aunt, anyway.”
“This could be increasingly helpful,” Avery observed aloud. “But…alsoconfusing. Especially if we are seeing different realities and we don’t realize it. We’ll have to work on this. We’ll need to train you to be able toseeillusions, otherwise being able to see through them may hinder your ability to connect with the world as other people see it. Or even miss a clue.”
“I couldmissa clue by not seeing an illusion?”
“Of course. Every part of the puzzle is important, and the lieisstill part of the puzzle, just the same as the truth.”
Saga let that sink in a moment. “You said ifweare seeing differentrealities—is this something you can’t do?”
“Naturally? No. Not many fey can. We have spells or hagstones that let us see through glamours. It’s not something someone is usually born with, it’s something you’re…gifted.”
“Gifted by whom?”
The Aos Sí; specifically, the old gods of Faerie. Avery’s mind was racing. The Hudson line had always been powerful and devoted, but had they been so loved in the eyes of a god to be granted a gift even without their knowledge?
“You’re freaking me out a little here,” said Saga after Avery had gone too long without answering her.
“No, no, no,” came the quick and gentle reassurance. “There’s no need to feel anxious or worried, everything is fine.” Avery flashed a good-natured smile. “Nothing has changed. We have merely just discovered you possess a very beneficial little talent, that’s all.”
“If it’s so beneficial, why do we need to question it or train it or—”
