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She has the look of someone who wants to hold a baby.
She also has the look of someone who’s never held a baby before, and thus is too afraid to ask.
It’s funny—from what I know about Olwen, she’s a prodigy when it comes to magic. But it doesn’t seem to matter how capable someone is in all other aspects of their lives—everyone who hasn’t held a baby before seems to think it’s a monumental task.
I stand and pass Cecilia to her aunt. Olwen’s arms go as rigid as tree limbs, so I say, “She can support her own head now, so as long as you don’t drop her or shake her too hard, you really can’t go wrong.”
This seems to loosen Olwen up a bit, and soon enough she’s holding Cecilia like she’s a little person and not a little explosive.
Of course, Cecilia is a little explosive, but Olwen will come to realize that soon enough, I’m sure.
“Say,” Olwen says, bouncing a giggling Cecilia lightly, “do you think she has magic? You know, Quill and I could save her a spot at the Academy. If she’s good enough at magic, of course. We don’t want to be too nepotistic.”
“Only a little nepotistic,” Quill says, rolling his eyes slightly.
I look at Evander, who is shaking his head. As much as I want to ask how Olwen ended up pulling strings at Dwellen’s most prestigious magic school, it seems as though Evander’s heard an earful of this story on his journey.
“We don’t know if she has magic yet,” I say. “From what we understand, some children with both fae and human heritage are born with magic, others aren’t.”
“Hm,” Olwen says, conjuring a flower in front of Cecilia’s face, as if to probe for any magical ability.
Evander groans in the corner, but Olwen soon makes the flower open and close, playing peek-a-boo with Cecilia, which makes my daughter laugh uncontrollably, so I allow it.
Olwen and Quill stay long enough that night falls, while Evander returns to his rocking chair and falls asleep.
Left alone with my sister-in-law and her husband, I’m about to ask how they met, wondering if this will lead me to understand why Olwen left her tower and how they both seem to have influence at the Academy, when Quill’s ears flick.
“Someone’s outside the door,” he says.
I frown and rise from my rocking chair. When I open the door, no one is there.
My heart thuds, and I turn to look at Evander, who looks as if a jolt of lightning striking the castle wouldn’t wake him.
I turn to check on Cecilia, who is fast asleep in Olwen’s arms, and inform my family I’ll be right back.
When I step into the hall, a draft sends a chill up my arms, and I wrap my chemise tighter around my shoulders, hastening down the corridor.
The hooded figure is already halfway down the next hallway by the time I turn the corner, but I recognize her gait.
“Blaise.”
The hooded figure stops, then rises to the balls of her booted feet.
I wonder then if she’ll run, but she doesn’t. Instead, she slowly pivots on her heel to face me, slipping her hood off.
She’s not as she was when I last saw her, gaunt and devastatingly beautiful at the same time. Evander told me earlier that Blaise absorbed the parasite, and with it, the ability to shift into her human form.
But she’s not that version of Blaise anymore, either.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and her voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come. Evander told me the baby was okay. I just needed…” She trails off, biting her lip.
My next words come as a shock to both of us. “Would you like to see her yourself?”
Blaise blinks, like she might have imagined the offer.
“Assuming you have control over your human form and aren’t going to shift by accident.”
Blaise shakes her head. “No. No, it doesn’t work like that. I’m…” She closes her eyes, as if to fight off tears. “It doesn’t control me anymore.”
