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Fangs peak from between her lips. “It can, but not mine.” Cat ears twitch on her head, and her eyes narrow. “Do you want it or not? Hurry, human.”
In the distance, I see forms disbursing, moving back this way. If it can help win, get me home, then I need it, whatever the source.
“Yes,” I say. “Please.”
Before I can second guess my choice, she latches onto my upper arm. Cool tingles roll under my skin, radiating out from her touch.
“Remember,” she says, letting go of my arm. “Speak of this, and I help you no more.”
I’ve no sooner opened my mouth to respond than she vanishes.
The bushes receive my deep frown. “I really hate it when they do that.”
“What happened?” I ask Uncle Mark, feigning innocence as he nears our bench.
“Not sure.” He scratches his chin and reclaims his seat. “Nothing looked amiss. I couldn’t smell anything out of sorts either. The horses might have spooked each other.”
“Smell?” My nose wrinkles. What does he imagine he’d scent? A cow pie?
He nods as if it’s the most normal thing ever. “Fae sense of smell is so much stronger. It’s incredible how much humans miss, how much I missed. The depth, the nuance.” He slaps his knee, just like he always did when I was little and something amused him. “Bet I can put a hound dog to shame now.”
“Stronger, faster, better senses. I suppose that’s why you wanted to become fae?”
The joy of moments ago dims into sadness. “Fae have their advantages, it’s true, but that’s not it, not really.”
“Then why?”
“When Hawke and I met, we looked about the same. Age-wise, anyway.”
I lean away, my brows drawing together. “But you…”
“Look a good bit older than him now? Yes. Thankfully, he doesn’t much mind that.”
“Then how did he—” Knowledge holds my words hostage. Hawke didn’t become younger. He stayed the same, while Mark aged as any human would. Until…
“Fae don’t age?”
“We do.” His smile is tight. “But much, much slower.”
I rub my palms up and down my arms, fighting away the sudden chill.
“You see, as a human, our time together would be more limited. I was already getting older, weaker. It was harder to travel into the forest and visit Faery. Even once I came here to live full time, the years we’d have together—good, healthy, happy years—were fewer than either of us wanted. But as a fae…”
“You’d have more time together,” I finish for him. It makes sense. As much as I don’t want to, I understand his choice. He was an outsider to his family already. He found love, and he wanted it for as long as he could have it. “But at the cost of never going home.”
Mark looks out over the fields. “This is my home now, Wren.”
“You don’t regret leaving your kids?”
Shadows cover his eyes. “Yes. I do. Though Faery has a way of making that easier too.”
“Because memories fade.”
He nods. “Even more now that I’m fae, but you’ve refreshed their memory. It hurts, but I’m thankful too. I’d rather remember them, hear about them, even with the pain it brings, than let it fade altogether. I know that now.”
“So, Hawke is, what? Fifty? Sixty?” Hard to picture even when he looks thirty-something. An odd match for my uncle, but it’s nice to know Hawke doesn’t love him for his looks.
Mark points up.
