Page 49 of The Iron Fae
"Briar Anders." He tastes the name. "We've waited a long time for you."
Thirteen
Spellbound
King Rihst steps closer,lifting his hands then dropping them with uncertainty back to his sides. He cocks his head. It's clear he is fiddling, not really knowing what to do with his own body. It's odd for me to see. Kings, as I've known of them, are quite certain of themselves.
"May I?" he asks, his voice hardly louder than the breeze, lifting his hands to my face.
"Yes." I still.
Carefully, he runs his thumb over the apples of my cheeks, cupping his hands on either side of my face. He watches me, then slowly brushes back my water logged hair. "Let me fix that." He waves his hand and I can feel the wetness lifting away from my skin. My hair pulls over my head only until he drops his hand again and it falls back to my shoulder in loose curls.
"You look so much like your mother." His strong arms wrap around my shoulders, tugging me into his chest. My arms remained pinned at my sides. My father holds me tightly. Slowly, I let myself breathe him in and relax against him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers into my ear. "I'm sorry I didn't protect myself from that witch's spell. I'm sorry I couldn't protect your mother. I'm sorry I never got to see you grow up."
I clench my teeth. Tears well in my eyes. I try my best to hold them in, to keep myself from the place of vulnerability that still feels raw and wounded. But as he squeezes me tighter, as he presses the lightest kiss to my temple, my body shakes a release, a quiet sob. A few tears spill over my eyelids and dry on my cheeks. I step away from him, wiping them away.
I have nothing to say. Was it okay that all of these things happened to him, to my mother, to me? No. Was he in control enough to have prevented them from happening? No. So, I can't bring myself to accept the apology but I bob my head in acknowledgment.
"Come now." He offers his arm. "Let me take you to your mother."
Looping my arm in his, the skin on my face feels tight from the drying tears. The king walks but he doesn't take his eyes off of me, staring like he has to memorize my face.
"Gods, I can't get over how much you look like Amelia." He sniffles. "You're beautiful. And currently very human, I see. We'll need to fix that."
My father and I move toward the garden. When I step onto the stone path that loops between the plants, I realize not only has he dried my feet, but my boots are on and laced back up. I look down, in admiration of his magical abilities.
He truly is a powerful, powerful Fae clearly.
"Thank you," I say.
"You'd catch a cold running around dressed like that all soaking wet. It’s the least I could do. I will add that the quick change of scenery was all your mother's idea. She's a brilliant one, I'd say. And I have her to thank for bringing me here in my death."
"Excuse me?"
King Rihst laughs as I subtly lean away. "We are very much real, Briar. At least our souls, not so much the magic that is currently making up what you see as our physical bodies." He brushes away the waving strands of the Reminints tree. "When your mother had you taken from her womb, she had your Fae half removed and placed for safe keeping in what I'm told is my mother's necklace. But she also had my soul and hers tied to the very same piece."
"Even though she knew that you were putting her to death?" I chew on my lip watching the moon above us.
"She loves me as I love her and she saw the deception for what it was, in thanks to our dearest friend Lylix."
"So, you're real?"
"Mostly, real." A female voice says with certainty.
My attention snaps to my mother. Her curls are brought up on top of her head, making it easier to see the blush of her cheeks, and the joy in her gaze. She holds her arms out for me and walks toward me. My father lets me go. I stumble forward and crash into her arms. Her sweet scent washes over me, the lavender smell that the Wishing Spirit had tricked me with. It's indubitable now. She's alive now.
Everything is comfortable in her arms. Homey even. Is this what a true mother is supposed to feel like? I suppose I've seen glimpses of this love in fleeting moments with new foster families. Those moments always came to an end. Does a mother's love truly ever have an end? Here it doesn't feel like it.
"I don't understand how this is you, really you." I hold her at arm’s length. She looks as she did in my father's memory. Young. Too young to die. "You look so much younger than me."
"I mean… I am. I was, physically. My soul is older now." She reaches a hand up to run over my cheek, much like my father had. "This place is only held together by the ties of your magic. Once we gift it to you, we'll be gone. Our souls released to the after world."
"You've just been here? This whole time? My whole life?" Living inside the silly necklace that I'd stuffed in my jewelry box on top of my dresser and swore I'd never wear because it was so gaudy. I gesture toward this false world, the night of the fair that has been frozen into an eternity. "Is the night always the same?"
"Yes." The queen guides me to the bench she had risen from, offering me a seat. The king glides behind us, content with watching us interact.
