Page 151 of The Other Side

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Osian kept hold of Drum’s hand. He was as shocked as Drum. In all these years of coming to this side, he’d never sensed anything different about Will. But had he been blinded by his cerebral palsy? Maybe. He thought Drum was making the right decision about keeping quiet, but he felt sad for him. Having a little glance of what his life might have been like must have been painful.

“But I wouldn’t have met you,” Drum said quietly, as if he were imaging what Osian was thinking about. “And I wouldn’t have changed that for anything.”

“Remember I have a surprise for you when we get back.”

“Are you going to give me a clue?”

“No.”

It didn’t take long to get back to the house. Osian hoped this was going to work. He shouldn’t have said anything, just done it. Then again, he could always take Drum to bed and find a different way of surprising him.

He put his violin down in the corner near the TV and turned to Drum. “Shoes off. Socks off.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” Osian slipped off his own shoes. He wasn’t wearing socks.

He opened the doors to the garden and led Drum outside.

“The grass is wet and cold,” Drum hissed through his teeth. “Are we looking at stars? I couldn’t have kept my shoes on?”

Osian turned to face Drum and took hold of both his hands.

“Trust me,” he said quietly. “Keep your eyes on mine.”

His own heart hammered so hard he was certain Drum could feel it through their joined hands. He’d never attempted this before. He’d had to ask Mikkel if it could be done, how it might be done, and Mikkel had agreed to help.

“What are you going to do?” Drum whispered.

Osian smiled. “Shush.”

He reached deep inside himself, to the place where music usually lived. Instead of searching for a melody, he found warmth—a bright, living heat waiting beneath his ribs. He coaxed it upward until it spread between his shoulder blades. Light prickled across his skin. Then came the familiar pull.

His shadow peeled away behind him and unfurled into vast, iridescent wings. They shimmered with every shade of a kingfisher’s feathers, each colour threaded through with silver starlight. Though he couldn’t see them himself, he knew exactly how they caught the light.

Drum gasped.

It was the first time he’d ever seen Osian’s wings. Fae children weren’t born with wings. They appeared only when magic awakened, as much a part of the soul as the heart.

“They’re…” Drum’s voice trembled. “They’re…” He remembered what Osian had said before and whispered, “They’re okay.”

Osian groaned. “My heart.”

“You know they’re beautiful. You look amazing. I knew you would.”

Osian swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat. “Be brave.” He tightened his hold on Drum’s hands. “I’ve got you.”

A sharp gasp tore from Drum. “My back—”

His shoulders jerked violently. He doubled over, then arched backwards with a cry that was half pain, half astonishment. Silver burst into the air behind him. Delicate at first, like frost spreading across a window, then growing stronger with every heartbeat, a pair of luminous wings unfolded until they stretched wider than Drum was tall.

Drum stared over his shoulder. “They’re…mine?”

“For a little while.”

Wonder eclipsed everything else in Drum’s face.