Page 85 of A Fate of Ice and Lies
A relieved laugh burst from me, and I wrapped my arms around her tighter. “I should hope so.” I twined my fingers through her hair. “I haven’t been a babe in over one hundred years.”
Shedrew away enough to look at my face. “You’re serious?” she asked.
When she pressed her lips into a thin line, I ran my forefinger over them. They parted, and her tongue snaked out to taste the tip of my finger.
“How old are you exactly?” she asked, her voice gravelly. “Dear God, please don’t say one thousand.”
I smirked. “One thousand? Teddy, that’s barely just a babe,” I joked, relishing the astonishment that crossed her face. “I recently turned five thousand.”
“You’re. . .” She blinked. “You’re telling me you’re five thousand years old?”
I bowed my head and laughed against her shoulder. She stilled, and I felt the weight of her attention on me. My body shook as my laughter grew. And when she ran that delicate hand through my hair, I knew I’d found my bliss. Right here, in this human realm, with a glorious female who had every reason to hate me but somehow didn’t. At least not yet.
“You’re joking?” she hissed out. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m joking,” I said, still laughing. “I’m one hundred and twenty-seven.”
“One hundred and twenty-seven.” She seemed to marvel at the number. “How long do fae live for?”
Her question stirred fear in me. I knew humans didn’t live as long as us. Their time on earth was but a fleeting moment. It’d never occurred to me, though, how quickly I’d lose Teddy. How, in the span of a single blink, she’d be gone while I’d be left with what felt like an eternity without her.
“Most fae live to be five hundred,” I told her, my heart heavy. “Some more, some less.”
“Five hundred,” she wondered, stroking her fingers up and down the curve of my neck. “Whatdo you do with all that time? I mean, if we’re lucky, a human gets to their eighties or nineties, maybe one hundred. And even then, I’m not so sure they’re all that lucky. It’s almost shameful how much our body turns on us the older we get. My mom didn’t die of old age.” She swallowed, and I smelled the saltiness of her threatening tears.
“She had liver disease, although she hated alcohol and never drank, at least that I know of. I watched it take her body from her slowly, while her mind stayed intact. So many people told me it was a blessing she still remembered me and. . . everything. I always thought it was a curse. She was so ashamed of all the ways her body betrayed her and that she had become dependent on me. I didn’t mind and would’ve taken care of her for the rest of my life if it meant I got to keep her. As much as it pained her to leave me, she seemed almost grateful just before she passed.”
“She was at peace,” I said when Teddy remained quiet. “She knew she’d done her job as your mother, knew that although you’d miss her, you’d live on with her memory. My mother told me that her greatest joy as a parent was the day she realized I no longer relied on her. She said it was a bittersweet feeling, torn between wanting to keep me young and close to her, and proud in knowing she’d raised me to be capable and independent.” I kissed the side of her face. “You’re capable and independent and brave and. . . you’re a wonder. It’s a testament to the female who raised you.”
She settled back on my chest and rested her head against my shoulder. “She was incredible. I wish she could’ve met you.”
My heart clenched. “I would’ve liked that.”
“She would’ve liked you. Maybe not the black eyes and sharp fangs.” Her laugh was sad. “She probably would’ve goneall Mama bear and demanded you file down your teeth if you wanted to be around me. I don’t mind them, though. Not anymore.”
I ran my tongue over my sharp canines, hating how that part of me once brought her fear. While my canines could shred into any enemy, they would only bring her joy.
“Do you think I’ll meet your mom one day?” she asked.
“I hope so.” It came out raw, with a deep yearning to see my parents again. To see my kingdom and all the people I left behind.
And Teddy, I’d love for her to see my home and meet my parents.
“Is she very queenly?” she asked with half a smirk.
I chuckled. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.” She giggled against the side of my neck. “In the fantasy books I’ve read, the queen is usually superior to everyone. She holds herself rigid with a slight tip of her chin. She speaks eloquently and looks down her nose at everyone.”
“While my mother has great posture, she’s kind and loving. The kind of queen who cares for her people and puts their needs first.”
It seemed like years had passed since I’d last seen her. A lifetime ago since she’d given me her blessing to tear through the veil to bring Teddy back to Niev.
So much had changed with me, and I wondered if my parents had experienced change as well. If there were fewer thunderbird attacks. If our people wondered where the commander and I had gone. If my parents missed me as much as I missed them.
The back of her hand caressed my left cheek. Slowly, gently. Almost lovingly.
“Hmm. . .” Teddy said, her tone teasing and light. “That doesn’t sound right.”
