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I describe the creature to them both as best I can. As I speak, it becomes more apparent that my mother may know something. “There are stories from long ago,” she says. “But I don’t know much about them. It’s only a legend really, something that is whispered to children by the elders, so they’ll behave. They say,be good or the Ogieer will come for you.But it’s described just as you said it.”
“The creature—the Ogieer—it attached itself to Kellan when it was clear the Regent wasn’t going to survive the shadow demons. It’s now whispering into Kellan’s ear.”
Daimis and my mother exchange a look of worry.
“I’ll see what I can dig up about the Ogieer,” my mother says. “But whatever happens,” she puts her hand over our clasped ones. “We’ll deal with it together, as a family.”
I look at our joined hands and can’t help but think about my father and how those three hands were once, his, mine, and my mother’s just like our family symbol. I pull my hand back. “I found Dad’s old journal,” I say.
My mother goes still and Daimis gives me a questioning look.
“It was in the Regent’s hidden room in the athenaeum. But nothing in it gave any indication as to why he did what he did.” I shake my head. “I wish there was a way we could go back to that night. I feel like we’re missing something key.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” my mother says. She looks at Daimis and back to me again. “I wonder,” she muses and gets up to pace, her brows creased in deep thought. “You were both there that night and saw what happened…and you both have Ronaan’s magic in you…and with your blood connection to your fathers who were part of the spell that night…”
“What it is Laneya?” Daimis asks.
“Of course, you would both have to be willing,” she continues.
“Willing to do what?” I prod.
She stops and faces us both. “I believe I can cast a spell that will bring you two back to that night, only you would be seeing everything from your father’s perspectives, not your own. I can’t promise that it will give the answers we seek, but perhaps it might shed some more light onto what happened the night of the Blood Moon. Only if you are both one hundred percent willing to do it though.”
Daimis’s and my gazes meet, and I already know before he says anything that he’s as willing to do it as I am. Ever since we were kids, we’ve never shied away from anything and we’re not about to now. I turn to my mother. “We’ll do it.”
Daimis nods. “We’re in.”
“Sit on the floor and hold hands.” We follow her instructions and sit across from each other before grasping hands, intertwining our fingers.
“Close your eyes. I want you to remember as much as you can from that night. The way the place looked, smelled, temperature, any detail you can remember,” she says. Then she starts speaking in ancient fae. Soon, her voice sounds distant, and a dizziness makes the room feel like it’s spinning. I hold tightly to Daimis’s hands to help ground myself, while still trying to remember every detail I can from the night of the Blood Moon.
My vision slowly comes to me and I’m staring at the king. He’s everything I remember. A strong jaw that I now realize his son has, dark hair and beard and bronzed skin with honey brown eyes that are warm and inviting. I look down at my hands which are large and so familiar that it hurts; my father’s hands. I’m in his perspective, seeing everything that he saw that night. And I assume Daimis is experiencing the same in his father’s point of view.
What’s more is I feel my father’s thoughts and intentions within me, like a second voice in my head. He’s confident and sure. His feelings toward the king are all positive. He’s my father’s closest friend, and he both respects and admires him.Those aren’t the thoughts of someone who plans to kill another.
“The only way to be able to cast a spell to protect our children is for you and me to both participate in it, since we’re their blood connection,” my father says.His voice, how had I forgotten that voice?A surge of emotions fills me, and if I was in my own body, I know I’d be crying over even that little detail.
“But I don’t have any magic,” the king says.
“It matters not,” my father says. “My magic is strong enough that I can bring you into the spell. But only if you do it of your own free will. And it is very important that only our good intentions are brought into the spell.”
The king nods. “Yes, of course. Anything to protect the children. Especially with Daimis leaving. It will put me at ease knowing I did something to keep him safe while he’s so far away. And with the letters you’ve received, something must be done to protect our dear Sahra.”
My father is pleased and not at all surprised that the king agrees. He’s fond of the open mind the king continues to have. “Place something of the boy’s into the bowl,” my father says.
The king places a shirt of Daimis’s in the bowl and my father places my hairbrush next to it. Then my father pours items of each of the elements from jars into the bowl. First earth, then water, then he says a short incantation to light a fire in the bowl, and last, he moves his hands in a sweeping motion, causing the fire to grow.
“Hold onto the bowl,” my father tells the king and after he places his hands on the edge, my father does the same.
“You won’t be able to let go until the spell is finished. It might feel strange, a tingling inside of you, but don’t be alarmed, that is just the spell working its magic. When it is finished, you will want to sleep for a long time, the magic will wipe you of all energy. But after the spell has done its job, no one will be able to harm our children. They will be protected until they come of age.”
The king nods his head and there’s a determination there that I’ve seen in Daimis so many times. “Do it. I will gladly suffer any consequence.”
My father takes a deep breath and speaks an incantation in ancient fae. The inside of the bowl turns to a glowing green, and I know somewhere in this room, two small children observe from the bushes.
Soon, the king’s eyes glow the same green as the bowl. I still don’t understand what’s going on. This wasn’t a spell to rip into another dimension to bring the shadow demons to our world, it was only meant to protect Daimis and me. A moment later, the Regent storms in, his face is red all the way to his hairline.
“Stop this at once!” he demands. “I will not let you ruin the kingdom of man.” The Regent brings his blade down on the alter and the bright green turns to an inky black. Through my father’s thoughts, I finally understand what happened that night. The Regent changed the spell while it was still in the process of forming. His anger and hate, along with the blade he thrust into the bowl, mixed with my father’s magic, changing the spell into something dark.
