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“You—” He shakes his head just the way he used to when scolding us for making a mess. I think he’s talking to me until he starts shooing my eagle away.
“Hey!” I protest.
He backs it out onto the balcony railing. “This is family conversation.”
The eagle takes wing, and my heart drops. “It’s just a bird.”
“No, it’s—” He shakes his head.
An eagle. Yeah…I shake my head. Uncle Mark leads me back inside and tugs on a set of heavy, navy curtains that had previously been pulled to the side, until the room is dark, save a few weird, flickering lights—some kind of magic from what I can tell—and closed off from the world beyond.
“Well, you’ve gotten your update and kicked out my bird,” I say. “Done yet?”
A pained expression flashes across his face as his shoulders drop. “Wren, I…”
I cross my arms and stare him down. Did he expect this to be a happy conversation?
“I can explain. I want to…”
The tap, tap, tap of my cowboy boot on the floor echoes through the room.
“You’re not ready to listen yet, are you?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I won’t cry in front of him. Nope, nope, nope.
“I’m sorry, Wren.” His voice cracks. “Really, give me a chance.”
“You want a chance?” I suck in another breath, letting the air calm me. “Get me out of here.” I hold up my tattooed wrist. “That’s the best thing you can do for Gran and your kids.”
His gaze drops to the floor, that foot still tapping, just like mine. I force my feet still. “I can’t, Wren. No one can break that bond.”
Same old song.
“Thenyougo back. Gohomeand tell everyone what happened to me. And you.”
He stumbles back and sits heavily in a chair. He sighs. “You don’t know. Fae can’t live in the human world.” He stares up at me. “We…fade away.”
We fade.Just remind me that you’re not human, why don’t you?I thump down onto the end of the bed. “Fading is bad?”
He nods.
“Instant?” I push.
“No, it can take a little time to—”
I clap my hands once, cutting him off. “Then just go tell them and come right back. Can’t be too hard, right?”
He looks away again. His throat bobs once, twice, before he finally looks at me. “I’ve been back, Wren.”
Now that nearly knocks me over.
“I went to Ma’s house not long after I became fae,” he hurries on. “Planned to tell her everything. She was sittin’ on the front porch in her chair. I came all the way to the bottom of the front steps, but she couldn’t see me—looked right through me like I wasn’t even there. She just stood up and went inside without a word.”
“What?” That doesn’t sound anything like the Gran I know.
“Not everyone can see fae, Wren. Some of us can and can come here. Me. You.”
Something heavy sits against my ribs. “But not Gran?”
