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Don’t be Sigurd. Don’t be Sigurd. Don’t be—
“Uncle Mark.”
Thank goodness. I leap from the bed and throw open the door.
Hawke is with him. My smile falters. So we’re to have a third wheel. This is awkward.
Mark must get my look because he quickly says, “Hawke offered to take us into town. I thought you might like to see it while we talk?” He looks between us, no more comfortable than I am. “There’s a farm I visit sometimes. I remember when you were a girl, and we used to visit the animals, so I thought—"
“That sounds great.” I beam. He doesn’t need to convince me. All he had to say was outside, and I’d have been sold. Cute animals? Always a bonus.
“Well then.” Hawke holds out his hand, and for once, I’m eager to take it.
The farm is a wonder. So much like the ones back home but more refined, like everything in Faery. The barns and buildings are pristine, not a fleck of paint missing or a board askew. The animals are well cared for, grazing in the green fields I could see from the balcony. Fresh air fills my lungs, and while the scent of animal droppings is still present, it’s not as pungent as back home. In fact, it’s oddly comforting.
It also distracts from the floating bits of land that hang in the sky near the mountains. As cool as they are, they somehow make me uneasy too. Like they might suddenly drop from the sky and squish someone.
Uncle Mark fits here. The fae know him, like him, and respect him. It’s easy to see in their genuine greetings and friendly banter. And though he’s aged since he left us, I’d swear he looks younger. Maybe the effect of being here. Or maybe love? He walks with confidence, not dancing over eggshells all the time like he did with Aunt Virginia. He’s loose, free. And though we’ve spent the past hour or so talking about the farm and the differences between animals here and at home, dodging all the important things we promised to discuss, this time has told me more than words.
He’s happy in a way he never was at home.
I break the ice while brushing a sheep with lavender fur. “Marigold would love these,” I say. “She’s obsessed with everything purple right now. And unicorns. Don’t happen to have any of those around, do you?”
His soft smile at the mention of the granddaughter he’s never met eases the lingering tension. “No,” he says after a moment. “Afraid not.”
It’s easy to talk about Tabitha and her kids. I’ve got plenty of stories, and while I brush the sheep, I can imagine I’m talking to them, not the man who left us all. Mark just listens and nods, for the most part, content with whatever tidbits I’ll give him. I throw in some stories about Matt, Gran, and myself too. I leave out Aunt Virginia. She pops up in a few stories anyway, but no one needs to hear about their ex-wife running around with just about every man—single, taken, and everywhere in between—in town.
When the sun peaks in the sky and the day grows warm, we take a picnic break on a bench under some leafy trees. Honestly, I couldn’t pick better scenery. The farm, with its joyful animals and forest stretching out beyond the fields, is a dream, away from all the hustle and bustle, away from most of the fae and the castle that’s become a gilded cage. With the castle and sprawling town at our back, I can almost forget about them. There are many farms in the valley, some even grander, or so Mark says, but I understand why he likes this one.
It’s quiet and simple, almost like home.
“Hawke and I met years ago, before you were born actually,” he begins, rousing me from my daydreams.
“What?” I sit a little straighter. It’s weird. As much as I dreaded this, I actually want to hear his story now.
“Virginia was pregnant with Tabitha. I’d always thought if she had the kids she wanted, she’d be more content with me, but it only made her see me as more of a failure. I never did enough in her eyes. Wasn’t man enough. She only saw my flaws. And I tried to be a good husband to her, really I did. I gave everything I had until I was a shell of myself. It was never enough. One day after a fight, I needed space. Was in no frame of mind to get behind the wheel, so I just walked into the woods and kept going. I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, and suddenly, I was.”
He’d stumbled into Faery by accident, like I did.
“I ran into Hawke, and that was certainly a surprise. Didn’t know a thing about fae. Thought I must have hit my head or something. I called him all sorts of things. Pretty sure he hated me at first, and that’s why he helped me find my way back home. I was gone a day and night by then, and it only made Virginia angrier. She accused me of taking up with some floozy. As if I would.” He shakes his head. “Over the years, I found myself going back, never for long, but just enough for a break. I met Hawke again, and over time, we grew close.”
So long, and yet I never knew. None of us knew. It must have been so difficult for him, living a life in one world while yearning for a completely different one somewhere else.
His shoulders hunch, and he sighs. “I know what people thought of me. Even Ma. They assumed I was having an affair with someone. There was nothing physical between us then, but I suppose it was an affair of the heart. I was happy. There was no Virginia to yell at me and bring out all my ugly. Even Matt and Tabitha. I loved them more than anything, still do, but they heard their mom’s words, her anger. What were they supposed to believe? The leaving didn’t help, but I needed something, anything to keep going.”
“We always did guess that you ran away with a lover,” I admit with a weak smile. “Though I think everyone thought it was a woman. And a human.”
“Another reason I left. Can you imagine what any of them would have thought?”
I take his hand in mine. “They’d have been surprised, but Tabitha, Matt, Gran—they love you, and they would love anyone who you do. They’d want you to be happy, and it would mean so much to them to know that you are.”
Mark huffs. “I wonder.”
“I don’t.” It’s one thing I’m absolutely certain of. “But why disappear on us? Why not just tell them?”
“About Faery?” He looks at me askance. “Give them another reason to mock me? Humans who can see fae are rare, and most families guard the secret rather closely. It’s odd, Hawke says, that ours didn’t pass down the knowledge, but then he told me that not all humans in a bloodline will show the trait. If our family didn’t have the knowledge, it would be likely our gifted blood was so thin that I was an anomaly. An odd one out among our family tree, like Uncle Dan.”
Uncle Dan. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in an age. He was a family cautionary tale, what happened when you went a little too far off the grid. He lived alone in a cabin in the woods, rarely came into town, and had little to do with anyone in the family.
