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The kiss deepened, and George lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips dropped to his ear as she whispered their family phrase: “I will love you across the ages.”
His ocean-blue eyes stared down at her with such reverence, Anya thought she might fade into stardust. Then a baby’s cry broke the silence.
George placed Anya back on the floor and kissed her forehead. “I’m off to discover if this is a number one or number two cry.”
She laughed as he walked away. “Don’t forget to put her in her birthday dress. It’s a special day for our girl.”
The birthday party was a roaring success. Half the town had been invited, and the other half showed up anyway. George had strung fairy lights all over the cottage and winked as he did it. “If only they knew a real fairy lived here.”
There were platters of food, and everyone brought something. Fresh-baked salmon pies, sourdough buns still warm from the oven, trays of berry tarts, and a big bowl of roasted squash and wild rice. There was bannock with honey butter, and someone else brought a pie bursting with apples and cinnamon. Anya had tried her best to bake a cake that morning, but it had burned to a crisp, so they crowned Nanny Eve’s tray of Nanaimo bars with birthday candles. It was perfect.
The presents came next. There was a knit sweater for Rosie in soft moss green and wooden toys shaped like owls and otters. Richard, the young man from the bookstore, gifted a tiny collection of lullabies. And the Poussins, who had a young son of their own, gave Rosie an orca stuffy almost too big for her to carry. George presented his daughter with a hand-spun clay pot with a rose in full bloom, deep pink and thorny.
Rosalina wouldn’t remember any of it, of course, but the love in the room would stay tucked inside her forever.
It was well into the evening when the guests departed. Rosalina was exhausted from the day's events, so Anya put her down early.
When she came out of the nursery, she found George and Nanny Eve clattering in the kitchen, bubbles of soap floating from the sink.
“Eve, darling, you should go home,” Anya said, collapsing onto the couch. “It’s late.”
The older woman smiled. “Not until this place is spick-and-span.”
Nanny Eve, well into her seventies with a crown of white hair always pinned in a loose braid, had been a blessing this past year. She moved with slow, practiced grace, her joints stiff but her spirit sharp as ever. Her hands were weathered, her voice warm, and she smelled of mint and bread dough. Anya had known next to nothing about babies, her own parents long gone, and Eve’s steady presence, endless knowledge, and no-nonsense affection had filled a space Anya hadn’t realized she’d needed.
“Relax, darling.” George smiled. “We’ve got this.”
Anya sighed and leaned back against the soft green sofa. What a wonderful day this had been. She tilted her head and looked out the window. It was so dark she couldn’t even see the faintest outline of the trees.
“I swear the moon was out earlier,” Anya murmured.
“Perhaps the clouds came in,” George replied. “If the rains come, Eve, we’ll make up the spare room for you.”
George rambled on about the state of the roads and how the town needed to do something about all the potholes. But Anya continued to stare at the window. She couldn’t even see the glimmer of George’s little fairy lights.
It was so dark.
A blackness that swallowed everything.
A darkness she had seen before.
Anya sprang up as the shadows crept in through the window, shot across the floor, and slipped under the door into Rosalina’s room.
“Everything alright, darling?” George glanced over his shoulder.
“Yes, I thought I heard Rosalina stir,” Anya said, surprised at how steady her voice was. Her heart was nearly beating out of her chest.
She had survived the ruin of the Above.
She’d faced monsters and plagues.
Saved her people from disasters and fought wars to keep peace.
But she had never been more frightened than when she opened the door to her nursery and saw Sira, self-imposed Queen of the Below, standing with Rosalina in her arms.
Anya stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. “Let her go.”
A serpentine smile slithered over Sira’s beautiful face. She looked as she ever had: long silky black hair worn loose down her back, green eyes flashing bright like a night predator’s. She wore a simple cloak and high boots.
