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She even stands her ground in front of Lydia, which I consider fairly impressive. Eventually she seems to realize her protests are futile and she shuffles away, murmuring under her breath.
We all stand in silence for a moment. The group of us who’ve been waiting in Othian for Lydia’s arrival take in the newcomers Lydia brought along. There’s a man who stands closer to Lydia’s side than I’ve ever seen a male, fae or human alike, dare. Are those her fingers fidgeting, as if considering taking his? He has a mess of brunette hair, sharp eyes, and a look of carefree cunning about him.
He’s hardly older than me, which I have to say shocks me a bit.
It must shock Kiran and Fin too, because they keep glancing back and forth between their sister and the man. Like they’re wondering if she’s captured him as a pet, and if we’re morally obligated to free him.
By the way he looks at Lydia, it does not appear he wishes to be freed.
I’ve always wondered if Lydia had a male she hid from the rest of us.
I guess now we know.
On the chaise behind Lydia lies the other man in their party. This man is clearly ill. His skin is an earthy brown, his eyes a stunning copper, though it’s clear he’s fighting to keep them open. His head is shaved, and atop his brow glimmers a thin layer of sweat.
He clutches his abdomen with one hand as if he might be ill at any moment. With the other, he holds the hand of a little girl. She has ghostly pale skin, a mess of a braid, and wide brown eyes that look more discerning than her years should allow.
There’s an absence in the room that wafts off the pair.
Lydia looks around at the group, her lips pursed for a moment. Evander rises to meet her and introduce himself and Ellie.
Still, Lydia remains silent.
“They’re trustworthy,” Kiran says, recognizing the suspicion his sister holds for most everyone.
“Says the male who married a woman intent on assassinating him and taking his crown,” Lydia responds, rather dryly, not taking her eyes off Evander.
Kiran sighs, rubbing his temples.
To Evander’s credit, he doesn’t wilt in Lydia’s presence. Instead, he claps Kiran on the back and says, “Speaking from experience, I think it’s those of us who’ve trusted the wrong people who end up being the best judges of character. We’re the ones who know better than anyone what signs to look for.”
He pulls Ellie close to his side, and she gives him an amused, yet slightly impressed look.
Lydia does not appear charmed.
Still, she continues on. “Very well. I found Piper months ago, deep in the villages of Avelea.”
“She crashed their wedding,” pipes up the child, and while I expect Lydia to look annoyed, the faintest of smiles curls on her lips.
“I suppose I did.”
The man standing next to her rolls his eyes, as if that was a decision he tried and failed to talk her out of.
“I’ve had them hiding in Avelea with my contacts since. A month ago, we set out to move Piper and her family, as we’d gotten word her location had been compromised. During the move, we were ambushed.”
Az. It was Az. It has to have been, my magic whispers.
I jolt to the edge of my seat, gripping the padding of the loveseat. “Az?” I ask, before my magic can overtake my voice.
The man lying ill on the couch jerks his head toward me at the mention of my friend.
Lydia shakes her head. “No, we believe it was Queen Abra of Mystral, though why she would want Piper, we’re unsure.”
Everyone who was there the night Blaise returned to Othian exchanges knowing looks.
Lydia stands, one hip out to the side. “Is anyone going to be kind enough to share what you know that I don’t?”
Kiran goes on to explain Abra’s identity, that she’s Mother from my magic’s story, the female who originally led the fae into Alondria through the Rip.
