AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“—and anyway I was thinking, if you were wanting something to—I could ask Tir for you, I’d be happy to, and I think they might need someone who would—who’d come and thank a human physician. Kindness. On a committee. Remembering those—those sorts of small things.” He gave up. “None of that made any sense, did it, and it’s not even something you’d want to do…”
“You thought of that,” Beryl said slowly, “for me.”
“You’d be good at it. Thinking of people.”
“And you and I…would spend more time together.”
“Well,” Fadi said, “well, yes, but that’s not—I mean that’s not why I—not that I would mind spending more time with you, I’d like to—”
“I would also—”
They fell over each other’s words, and stumbled to a halt, breathless.
The ballroom swayed and twirled in the background: a sea of fantasy, bright costumes, wild blooming flowers, the scents of mulled wine and spiced gingerbread and mysterious exotic delicacies offered up by fairy magic. Fadi, holding a fairy lord’s hand, felt enchantment scamper along his spine.
“I’m glad I came to speak to you,” Beryl said, “in your infirmary.”
“So am I.”
“You seemed so surprised.”
“Well, and I was, wasn’t I? Out of nowhere and all.”
“Oh, yes. About that…it’s odd, isn’t it? Entertaining. I did think you’d heard me.”
“I hadn’t, you barely make any sound—”
“No,” Beryl said, puzzled. “Because you’re part fairy.”
Fadi’s fingers went cold.
“Because,” Beryllin explained helpfully, “I knew you were, I could feel that, so I thought you must—”
“It’s not much.” His voice sounded strange. Not like his. A pair of dancers glanced at him curiously; the remark’d been overheard. Someone behind him murmured something, a rumor, a susurration. “It’s not—no one knows. No one knew.”
“But surely with Tirian and Oliver—”
“Oh, now,” Fadi said, and yanked his hand back. “Yes, now it’s more—more acceptable, even wonderful, isn’t it, but remember—before Tir most of us’d never seen a fairy, not in three hundred years, and it’s all legend and stories and people getting scared—”
“Of you?”
“Not of me, but that’s because no one knew!” He waved his hands about, unsure what gesture he’d meant. They’d attracted a crowd. Even Tir and Oliver had turned. Heart-bruised, aching, he snapped, “Nobody knew what fairies could do. Might do. Some people’ve always had those stray bloodlines, mostly used for good, locating wells or finding lost pets or what have you, but then there’re the bad ones, aren’t there, like that peddler who was enchanting those girls—”
Beryl’s lips parted in shock. One hand lifted: to reach for him, perhaps, or to take back words, impossibly so. “I didn’t mean—”
“My mother’s family came from the North,” Fadi said to the avid eyes: to the kingdom. “Yes. Centuries ago. That was what you wanted, right? For me to admit to it? You couldn’t’ve asked me before you said it out loud?”
“I didn’t know—”
“We’re not your country,” Fadi said. “Not yet. And even then we’ll be something new. Together. Except—except you and I—you didn’t ask me, you assumed, and you said it out loud anyway and I can’t—excuse me.”
He fled. It was the most dignified of unfortunate options. The crowd parted automatically for the royal physician; the story was busily running around the ballroom.
He did not try to hide. His Crown Prince could find him if he did; while Oliver’d never be a renowned sorcerer, that last traditional Quest had left a gift of more than human senses. And certainly Ollie and Tir would be looking. Certainly after this.
Instead he hauled leaden bones up the stairs to the astronomy tower, and plopped himself into the large timeworn couch behind the brass telescope collection, and tried not to think about anything at all.
The astronomy tower folded protective wings around him: curved stone walls and tapestries, pillows and thick blankets, heavy old-fashioned furniture grown generous with use. Tir and Oliver came up here sometimes to be alone, to look at the sky, and no doubt some other activities; he thought they mainly used it as a retreat, though, a space to be themselves and not heroes of two kingdoms. Light glimmered off comforting bronze and brass instrumentation—he’d lit two old-fashioned candles upon coming in—and flooded into dark corners like optimistic water, chasing away pain.
