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Morning came again, and with it Iris’ consciousness. Every muscle in her body was stiff and sore. She didn’t reek of body odor or feel dried sweat on her skin, so she guessed the fairies must have cleaned her up and changed her into a new nightgown, but they couldn’t do anything about her pain.
Sitting upright hurt.
Everything hurt.
The fairies were zipping around the room, opening the bed curtains, pulling back the drapes, and lighting the wall sconces. One came to her and tugged on the cuff of her sleeve. She climbed out of bed, movements slow and mind numb, and the fairy waited for her, patient and unhurried. Others joined it, accompanying and encouraging her rather than pulling her toward the hot bath they’d prepared.
She couldn’t undress. She tried, but her body protested the simplest motions. Several fairies went to her ankles, taking the hem of her nightgown and pulling it up and over her head, and several more helped her into the bathtub. Their little bursts of warmth against her skin felt soothing. So did the hot water.
She sank into the tub and closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla. Her throat was raw from screaming, but she rasped out her gratitude. “Thanks.”
A fairy touched her lips, followed in turn by each of the others.
She opened her eyes and managed a small smile. They had lined up along the top of the dressing screen again.
“Guess we’re in this together, huh?”
The image of the frightened fairy trapped in the glass bottle flashed through her mind, and her smile faltered. She remembered the sheer panic in its movements, its desperation to escape, to evade that blue spark.
She remembered the sickening moment when it lost the race and dropped dead to the bottom of the jar.
“I’m sorry about your friend.” She put her face in her hands, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t…”
Sobs shook her shoulders. She sank further into the water, salty tears streaming down her face and mingling with the vanilla and the steam.
The mage had told her and Char exactly what he would do to her. He’d told them he was a master of deception and trickery. She’d never felt the telltale snapping and crackling that accompanied his magic, and she knew Char hadn’t, either. The mage’s disguise as Jonah had been perfect, lulling them into a false sense of security.
And then he’d mimicked Char during his nighttime visit. That disguise hadn’t been as perfect, but whatever spell he’d cast over her to keep her asleep and receptive to him meant it didn’t have to be.
She shuddered at the memory of his touch.
She really had made it easy for him. The next morning, when she had been sick and vulnerable, when he’d pretended to be Jonah again, feigning concern, expressing reluctance to take her with him, she'd begged to go with him. Begged him to take her to his study.
Permission and trust. Handing herself over on a silver platter to be tortured.
When he returned, would she give him permission again?
She couldn’t give him her trust.
But he’d said it hurt worse without permission and trust, and while she wasn’t sure she believed him, he held all the fairies hostage. If she didn’t do as he said, he would snuff them out, one by one.
She trusted him to carry out that threat, if nothing else.
But what if Char returned first?
How was she supposed to act normal in front of him?
She had to. For his sake, and for that of the fairies.
They tried to comfort her. They tended to her every need over the next week, and the aching eased, the pain faded into memory.
And at night, the whispers came back.
They told her it was time for the crystal to go home, over and over again, but they wouldn’t tell her what that meant or what she needed to do. There was something comforting about them being there, though. She remembered their cool embrace amidst her torment, and she felt them as a warm embrace now.
They were the key. Somehow.
But one week after Char had brought her to this new prison, she was no closer to understanding them or the amulet, and she’d run out of time.
It was midday. She was sitting on the sofa, reading, when she heard a knock on her door. The book fell from her hands. Her head jerked up, her wide brown eyes staring at the unassuming old wood that kept her in but couldn’t keep her tormentor out. She held her breath.
“Iris?”
Her heart plummeted to her feet. It was Char.
“Just a minute.”
She jumped to her feet and ran to the bureau. The fairies zipped around her, helping her out of her nightgown and into a dress, zooming up her back to secure the fastenings.
She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face, and then she opened the door. “Hello.”
He looked the same as always. Black shirt and pants, broad shoulders filling the doorway, shaggy black hair, sharp green eyes that saw right through her.
He flashed her a heart-melting smile. “Hello.” Then he stepped closer, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand.
She flinched.
His eyes widened. He pulled his hand back.
“S-sorry,” she stammered, scrambling for an excuse. “Y-your hand is a little cold.” She swallowed and took a step back from him, avoiding his eyes as they searched her face. “Come in.”
Her nightgown and slippers had vanished, as had the book, but the fairies remained, sitting around the room on the wall sconces and furniture.
Char scanned the scene, and then those sharp green eyes were back on her. “They seem to be taking care of you well enough.”
She nodded. “Yes, they are. They’re very sweet.”
“Good.” He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Would they mind if I do this?” he murmured, his breath tickling her lips.
She didn’t flinch this time, and she didn't have to force her shy smile. “Not at all.”
His warm kiss drove any doubts out of her mind. She wanted to see him. She wanted to feel his affection. And if that meant she had to lie to him, so be it.
He pressed her head to his chest, stroking her hair, and she shivered.
“What’s wrong, Iris?”
“I… I was just thinking about Father John… before you came.”
He guided her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She snuggled up to him, closing her eyes and forcing herself to hold still as he stroked her hair and caressed her cheek. Those gestures should have been comforting, but the mage had tainted them.
“I went to Little Rest.”
She swallowed hard. “And?”
“I’m sorry, Iris.”
She knew it already, but his confirmation struck her like a blow. Tears sprang to her eyes. She clutched at his shirt, sobbing, and he held her while she cried, not speaking, just stroking her hair and her back. His touch differed from the mage’s somehow, and that made her cry even more. She didn’t want him to leave, and she wanted him to go right away, before the mage returned. Before she had to pretend that man was Jonah.
She didn’t think she could handle seeing him wearing Jonah’s skin again.
When her tears subsided, Char reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, worn book. “I found this.”
Iris took it with trembling fingers and opened it to the first page. Name, date found, birthdate, if known. Line after line of names written in Father John’s handwriting. Notes after many names, listing things like spouses, children, occupation, personality quirks. Page after page, interrupted by an occasional Bible verse.
“These are all the orphans,” she breathed.
Char rested his chin on her head and settled his hand on her waist, and she leaned against him, pointing out the names she recognized, telling little stories about them. Some made her smile. Most made her heart ache.
And then she reached Jonah’s name, and her finger froze.
“Did something happen with Jonah?”
She swallowed. “It’s… it’s like you said. Things change.”
“Did he do anything to you?” Char pressed her, his voice dropping lower.
She shook her head. “No, he didn’t. He’s just… Well, he’s different.” She forced a laugh. “I guess that only makes sense. It has been fourteen years.”
Char sighed. “You’re hiding something.”
“N-not intentionally. Maybe it’s just the magic lessons? He’s very strict, but I need to learn as much as possible as quickly as possible, right?”
Char took the book from her hands and set it on his other side, away from her. He caught her chin and lifted her face until her eyes met his. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re okay.”
She swallowed again. “I’m okay, Char.”
He frowned, his green eyes searching hers. “Has the mage found you?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’m just a little down today, I guess.” She reached up to brush his hair back from his face. “I’m sorry. You finally got a chance to visit me, and I’m worrying you. Did everything go okay with Kelnor?”
Char still didn’t look convinced, but he broke his stare and leaned back against the sofa. Iris followed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He smiled and gave her a light kiss.
“Yeah, everything went okay. Rath told him I went to Rina’s place, but he didn’t know where that was.”
She didn’t flinch or shiver when he cupped her cheek in his hand this time, and she didn’t look away from his eyes. He pulled her onto his lap, and she felt safe. Safe and comfortable.
“And Kelnor believed that?”
Char chuckled. “No. He knows I took you, but he has no proof, and he isn’t interested in getting any, either.”
Char’s lips met hers, and for just a few minutes, she forgot about her problems. She wasn’t lying, and she wasn’t a prisoner. She was just here with Char, exchanging passionate kisses and sweet murmured words. He cradled her in his arms like she was made of glass, his gentle touch sending pleasant tingles up and down her spine, and she didn’t feel dirty or used. The tenderness she felt from him was real.
For just a few minutes, she was happy.
When they pulled apart, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. He brushed her hair back out of her face and traced a light finger down her cheek.
“Same question.”
She opened her eyes to look up at him. “What?”
“What’s wrong?”
She stared at him. His intense green eyes bored into her, and she wanted to tell him. She wanted him to take her away from here, to leave all the pain behind.
But if the mage could track her before, how much easier would it be for him to find her now, with her magic inside him?
He would find her. He would kill Char, and the fairies, and anybody else who got in his way, and then she’d be back here again, alone, carrying the weight of even more lives lost because of her.
She smiled. “Nothing.”
Char frowned, but another knock at the door interrupted whatever he was about to say, and Iris’ stomach did a backflip. She managed to hold her smile only through sheer force of will.
“That must be Jonah.” She climbed off of Char’s lap, straightening her dress and hair and avoiding his eyes. “Can you stay for lunch?”
“No.” He stood and pulled her into his arms, catching her chin again and forcing her to look at him. “You know you can talk to me, Iris.”
She looked up into his green eyes, and she wanted to tell him so badly.
“I know. But there isn’t much to talk about. It’s all magic stuff and lessons, and I’d rather not bore you with the details when we have so little time together.”
He sighed. “I can’t come too often, Iris. It’s now or never.”
“I’m fine, and it sounds like you need to get going. Just take care of yourself, okay?”
His green eyes searched hers one last time, and then he placed a soft kiss on her lips. “If you say so. Goodbye, Iris.”
“Goodbye, Char.”
He turned back to the door just before the next knock came, this time accompanied by a voice.
“Iris?”
He didn’t see the violent tremor that ran through her body.
She clenched her hands into fists behind her, digging her fingernails into her palms and forcing a smile, but Char didn’t look back.
He had returned. The mage had returned, and Char would talk to him about his concerns, and fairies would die.
Iris collapsed onto the sofa, burying her face in her hands.
She just wasn’t good at lying.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlmaLFp30MQ
