Page 190 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“Yes,” Aislinn said shortly. “And my, um—”
“Aislinn’s beloved.” Beau grinned. “They’re head over heels for each other, Father. It’s brilliant.”
“You left that part out of your tale, daughter.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It wasn’t relevant.”
Hawthorn clutched his chest, as if she’d just uttered a great insult. “Romance is always relevant, daughter! Why—”
“Father,” said Aislinn, “please.”
Hawthorn’s expression sobered. “Very well, let’s see what I can do for him.”
They went over to Caer’s makeshift bed, Aislinn brushing back his hair. He murmured under her touch, eyes half opening.
“Caer, darling, my father is here. He’s going to try and see if he can help you.”
“Your father?” Caer blinked blearily, struggling into a sitting position. “Hello, sir, lovely to make your acquaintance—”
“Settle down, chap, there’s a good fellow. No need to strain yourself.”
“You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t touch me…”
“I’ve been informed of your powers, but I doubt you can do much in your present state. Let me help you. For Aislinn’s sake, if not your own. She’s apparently rather fond of you.”
“It’s dangerous…”
“Son, I am the King of Faerie. The only thing I’m afraid of is my wife.”
He placed his hands to Caer’s chest and head, pressing his power into him, grunting under the strain. It was like he was fighting against something, sucking something away. Colour flocked back to Caer’s skin, but his breathing increased, until both he and Hawthorn pulled away, gasping.
Aislinn steadied Caer, mindful of not touching his skin. “Caer?”
“I’m… I’m all right…” he said, pulling himself into a sitting position.
Aislinn rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes.
“That’s as good as I can manage,” Hawthorn announced, flexing his hands. “I don’t think I cured anything—just delayed it. I’m afraid whatever predictions Aeron spouted about the Mirror wanting to claim you are likely true.”
Caer stared at him, jaw tight.
“But you can just fix him again—” Aislinn insisted.
Hawthorn shook his head. “Not forever. I’m not even sure it will work again. That power, Ais—you don’t know what it feels like.” He met Caer’s gaze. “You truly don’t know where you got them from?”
He shook his head. “They manifested when my mother died, but… it feels like they were always there. I can’t explain it.”
“No,” said Hawthorn, his expression unreadable. “Me neither.”
Luna came around handing out food—hunks of dense bread packed with herbs. Flora must have bought it at the market earlier, or stolen it. Aislinn bit into it hungrily; it had been a long time since she’d had anything to eat.
Hawthorn moved away to talk to Minerva, no doubt trying to learn more about the current situation. Aislinn leant against Caer’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, wishing she could take his hand. She missed her gloves in a way she hadn’t expected.
“So… that’s your father,” Caer said, nudging her gently.
“It is.”
“He seems nice.”
