Page 39 of By the Orchid and the Owl
I fell in love with a visitor from a coastal village, she fell pregnant, she stayed long enough to give me you, and then she left.
I’d never questioned that Fabian was my biological father, what with all our shared features, but…
“Are you saying you think my mother was a—?”
I couldn’t even say the word out loud. Couldn’t even stomach it.
Coen dipped his head.
“Areyoua…?”
Pirate’s son, I couldn’t say… and then all the implications of it rushed out at once.
“But how’d they get through the shield? And I thought they’re after our magic, to sell it or use it for themselves? That’s why they’re always circling the island, right? Why would they evenneedbascite if they already have this… this…” I looked down at my chest, as if I could see the raw power slumbering there. “Thisthing?”
“Well,” Coen began slowly, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling as something thumped above us, “first thing’s first, thatthingin both of us can kill if not contained properly, as evidenced by your first experience with it last week. And a weapon is only as good as the wielder, so if you can’t even wield it… it would make sense if the pirates are searching for a way to shape their power. To harness it.”
“With bascite?”
It didn’t make sense. Thepillwas the thing that contained my raw power, not the bascite. The bascite itself had simply given me magic that was already shaped, already harnessed. Right?
Once again, Coen seemed to trace the shifting mood in my eyes, but this time he didn’t offer me any answers. He simply turned his gaze to the lines of his hands.
“When we were children, some… others and I were dropped onto one of the coastal villages—Hallow’s Perch—about twelve years ago. I don’t know how the pirates got us through the shield, but it was supposed to serve as a sort of… distraction. While the other villagers were gawking at us, the pirates tried to cleave through the shield themselves.”
“And?” I asked when he fell silent for a moment.
“And their attempt failed.” Coen shrugged. “The villagers took pity on us, though. Knowing the Good Council would execute us if they knew where we’d come from, they adopted all of us. Different families, of course, but we continued to grow up together, and it was only when we tried some bascale when we were teenagers that we all just… exploded with that power. And realized our mistake in thinking we’d never be found out when one of us…” His throat bobbed. “I considered him a brother, and he died from it. And I knew I had to find a way to save the rest of us.”
“Hence the pills,” I said, sensing, somehow, that he didn’t want me to acknowledge the brother thing now or anytime soon
“Hence the pills,” Coen repeated, relief softening his jaw.
Silence for a beat. In the quiet, the many footsteps thumping overhead seemed to bloom louder. I went rigid, realizing that I’d been angling toward him.
“How often do we have to take the pills?” I asked after a moment.
“Once a week. After a week, if you don’t take another one, you’ll feel it stir.”
As I expected.
“And you… have enough for me? To take every week?”
For some reason, the question cracked something open inside me, leaving a vulnerable, fragile hole. If hedidn’thave enough, there was no way he’d choose me over his lifelong friends.
But Coen said, “Of course I do, Rayna. In fact…” He got up from the bed long enough to rummage through the top drawer of his dresser, then returned with another one. “Just in case I don’t see you before Sunday. Take it then.”
I accepted the pill from him, daring to turn, to face him fully. So many questions tipped the edge of my tongue. How did the children of pirates break through the shield when the pirates themselves couldn’t? Was Coen content to never talk to his parents again, never know what had happened to them? And another thing—I knew I had to find a way to save the rest of us…that implied he himself had made the pills, somehow, right?
But maybe I could read his moods, too, because I knew from the way his speckled brown eyes had hardened, like molten quartz solidifying, that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me those things. Yet.
So I just said, “I give you permission from now on.” When he arched a brow, I amended, “Only to talk to me mind-to-mind. Not to change my perception or erase my memories or… whatever you did to Fergus the other day.”
And that quickly, his eyes became molten again, churning with liquid rage.
“I wouldneverdo that to you. Never—”
The door burst open, and suddenly Coen was on top of me.
