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Optimistic view, for something that has yet to occur, even after years of being in one another’s constant proximity, the Old Magic scoffs.
Asha grunts, though Kiran is so used to her talking to the Old Magic in her head that he doesn’t mistake her displeasure for being directed at him this time.
The Old Magic can’t help but notice that Asha can’t help but notice that Kiran’s hair is going gray on the sides, just above his ears.
The sight fills Asha with a mix of emotions: gratefulness for Kiran’s sacrifice, guilt over his lost years.
Oh, don’t be so dramatic, the Old Magic scolds. Kiran hasn’t yet reached his thirtieth year. His hair is just graying early, that’s all.
But it wouldn’t be graying at all if he hadn’t given his immortality to save me, Asha thinks back.
You’re right, says the Old Magic, because he would have died of heartbreak or some equally ridiculous malady, and then he’d be rotting in the ground, growing no hair at all.
Asha swats him away, but she tucks her head into her husband’s chest and savors each rise and fall.
Her moment of peace is soon interrupted by Evander, who waltzes up behind the sofa and clasps his hands on Kiran’s shoulders. “You know, Kiran, it’s pretty inconsiderate of you to be going gray this early. You could at least have the decency to wait until I’ve settled into my mortality for more than a few months.”
Kiran lets out an exasperated sigh. “I miss the days when you were afraid of me.”
“Shouldn’t have lost that fire magic of yours then,” Evander says, dragging a chair next to Kiran’s side of the sofa.
The Old Magic thinks that’s quite a bold thing to say, for someone who recently lost his immortality. Ellie must think so too, because she appears at Evander’s side, then plucks a hair from his head. Evander jumps, eyes wide as he examines the hair for any hint of gray. When the King of Dwellen discovers the plucked hair retains its copper hue, and his queen is offering him a mischievous grin, he grabs her by the waist and yanks her onto his lap as she laughs.
“I think I see a wrinkle,” Ellie teases, tracing the corner of Evander’s eye with her forefinger.
The Old Magic decides to ignore them, even if Asha isn’t. Ellie and Evander are much too affectionate in public for the Old Magic’s liking. Though he secretly finds it admirable that Evander gave up his immortality earlier this year to save Cecilia from an illness that came close to taking her life.
The Old Magic notices that Ellie is wearing a set of intricately designed glass slippers.
Eventually, the children gather together, Cecilia and Aysel hobbling over the rest to sit in the front, facing Asha; Kiran and Asha’s oldest child squeezes between them.
Even Amity joins them, herding the younger children like a mother hen before settling down behind them with a cup of hot cocoa.
The Old Magic is glad Amity still joins. He worries every year that this will be the year she’s outgrown story hour.
He suspects Amity has, in fact, outgrown story hour, but that she stays to appease him, which warms his borrowed heart almost as equally.
Once Blaise’s daughter finally shuts up, Asha asks, You ready?
It’s a silly question, of course. The Old Magic has spent the better part of the past year crafting this particular tale. This will be the story to finally teach these impertinent children a lesson, after all.
So Asha opens her mouth, and out from it pours the melodious voice of the Old Magic as he spins a tale, all the while intoxicated on the children’s unbreakable attention.
It’s a tale of bravery and loss, misery and triumph.
It’s the story of a girl whose soul had somehow gotten itself woven into the very Fabric of the Realms. A girl who belongs nowhere and everywhere at once.
It’s the story of a girl who’s never died before.
The story of a girl who bridges Realms.
And the villain who follows her to the ends of them.
It’s the Old Magic’s best work so far, if he does say so himself.
He ends it, of course, on a cliffhanger.
