My voice became even weaker, wobblier. “Return?”
Hazel crossed her legs, clasping her hands. Like this was what the conversation had been building up to this whole time. “Sati never intended for the exile to be permanent. She never wanted to take your magic or birthright—that’s why she sought to preserve it. And she always planned on coming back to Aldar once you reached adulthood. I can only imagine your mother’s torment, not knowing what had happened to Sefra or her people in the meantime.”
And would she have just left Halvard—my father—behind? I suppose I’d never know, so I asked a question she could answer. “Wasn’t that risky? I mean, did she look so different as a fae that no one would recognize her if we came back?”
Hazel looked over to her right and stood. She spoke while walking over to the opposite wall. “No, but perception’s a powerful thing. And many aren’t even aware that appearing, or becoming human is possible. Unless you’re a skin changer and few, if any, of those still survive.”
She stopped and reached up to a painting—one of the few portraits. My heart slammed against my chest and a fizzing sensation claimed my stomach. Hazel pulled the canvas down and strode over with it clenched in hand.
She offered me the painting. I took it with trembling hands, scanning greedily. There wasn’t that much difference: the same brassy brunette with green eyes and angular features. Obviously the amethyst wings were new, but it was still her—still my mother, the woman who’d died all those years ago. My fingers traced the outline of her features without thinking.
Hazel spoke. “You remind me of her a lot, you know?”
I glanced up to find her eyes moving between me and the portrait, smiling.
“I look nothing like her,” I said. My mother had been beautiful, for one thing.
She wore a sad smile. “Oh, no. You’re the spitting image of Dain. He had hair the color of a raven’s feathers and a brooding brow, too. All the females were mad for him. But how you carry yourself … your expressions; they’re pure Sati.”
I was only half-listening because my very soul had caught fire at her words. I reluctantly put the painting aside and picked up a short strand of hair hanging by my temple, examining it. “My mother loved this color. She used to call it a raven’s black.”
My gaze lifted to Hazel’s. She was blinking. A lot. “I’m sure she saw Dain every time she looked at you. I only wish you could take her portrait with you.”
So did I. But it would never fit in my bag. A blossoming ache in my heart spread through my body like an ink blot atop a piece of parchment. A weighty grief settled upon my shoulders, and my hand lowered to the droplet. “Why didn’t she use the power in here to save herself?”
Hazel went to sit back in her armchair. “I’m afraid your mother lied to her friend, Viola, because the necklace was never an heirloom. A colony of undines—water sprites—gifted it to Sati at Lake Ewa. That’s where the spell was performed on you and your mother. It was there that the undines told us the droplet could only hold so much power, so we chose to protect the essence of your gifts and fae blood. Whereas, your mother had to live with losing those parts of herself to the void forever. She couldn’t have used the magic within if she’d tried. We never even understood if the necklace had power on its own or if it was simply a receptacle for yours.” She continued, gesturing to me. “For instance, I don’t know who this Auntie character is of yours.”
My mind felt on the brink of spilling over into madness. I rested my elbow against the armrest, cupping chin in palm. With the other hand, I twirled the droplet between my fingers. Panic pushed me to say, “Maggie said I couldn’t channel my magic.” Her warning sounded in my head as I added, “But that you could help—you could stop it from destroying me?” I risked a glimpse then.
Hazel was slow to react, but she nodded, thank the gods.
“It won’t be easy though,” she said, her brow lines creasing deeply.
I almost laughed. Of course not. Why would it be?
Hazel’s wings rustled as she sat a tad straight. As if preparing herself.
“I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t know why you can’t access your magic.”
My mouth popped open.
Hazel raised a hand and said, “However, my guesses are usually better than most when it comes to magic. And I sense this has more to do with the necklace than the fact you’re human. It may be blocking you intentionally. Perhaps, if you don’t use your gifts, then the strain on your human body is lessened. Could you ask this Auntie if I’m correct?”
I blinked stupidly. Auntie—
Heed the Priestess’s words.
As vague as ever. Nevertheless, I repeated them to Hazel who simply nodded.
“Good. Then, there’s a way to save your life.”
Baffled, I said, “There is?”
“We’ll have to switch you back. To make you a fae again. Sati and I had always intended that for you. This only makes changing you all the more urgent.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. “You can do that?”
“Fortunately, yes,” Hazel finished with a dull-edged smile.
A feeble huff escaped. “It doesn’t really feel like a good thing.”
To become a fae—to grow wings—wouldn’t that be extraordinarily painful?
Holy shit. Wings.
Hazel’s lips puckered. Disapproval. “It’s better than dying.” She continued bluntly. “Because that drop of fae blood in your veins isn’t enough to keep the likes of bound light magic at bay forever. Your human body will crack under the weight of it. It’s just a matter of when. To be frank, I’m surprised you haven’t already started to feel the strain. The necklace’s protective magic might be in part to thank for that, too.”
Frustration made me force out, “All right, so what do we do? How do I switch back?”
“We must return to the lake, with the necklace.” Hazel’s eyes darted to the door. “We’re about to have company.”
“What? Who?”
I went to jump up, but the damned couch foiled me again.
“Don’t bother. I’ll go.”
Hazel stood and crossed the room. She got to the entrance just as a furious knocking began. I pitched forward to get a clear view as she opened the door.
“Adi?”
Adrianna caught sight of me, and a panicked expression melted away into relief.
Hazel stepped aside. “You’d better come in,” she said, sounding like she had a head cold.
Not very welcoming; I couldn’t fathom why.
Adrianna moved over the threshold in a slow, careful movement. The two females eyed each other for a moment too long.
Predator on predator.
Adrianna broke the tension first by blurring across the room to me. “Are you all right?” she asked, kneeling, looking me over as if searching for injury.
“Yes … Sort of.” I sighed and tried changing the subject. “Did you find anything to hunt?”
“No—what’s wrong? Your scent reeks of grief and fear.” Her voice was urgent, adamant.
There’d be no hiding from this; she wasn’t Liora, who would’ve waited for me to be ready. Adrianna had a zero-bullshit policy.
How did I explain this? Should I even tell her?
Of course, Auntie butted into my thoughts.
Adrianna seized my chin to where it had drifted—to my knees—and dragged my eyes to her.
I couldn’t face the explanation. “Hazel will have to tell you.”
I yanked my chin away and collapsed backward into the sighing sofa.
Adrianna’s eyes went wide and flitted about the room. “What was that?”
“There’s a sprite in the couch.”
My voice sounded small, defeated.
Adrianna stood and turned to Hazel. “What’s happened? What have you told her? Tell me.”
The Priestess watched us from the kitchen, leaning against a countertop, wearing a grave look. “Serena, if you want me to explain, then I will. But I’d be careful about placing your trust in this one.”
Adrianna’s spine stiffened in response: a defensive maneuver. There was pride in her voice as she said, “We’re pack—she can trust me with her life.”