“They’ve kept thorough records of family lines, but it’s to the point where many of them are related as second cousins and such.”
“So, couldn’t the all-powerful Fae have found some other dwarf women in the world for them?” I asked. “Why did they choose a human?”
Mom sighed and looked at Dad who gave her an encouraging nod.
“Fifty years ago when McKale was born—”
Cassidy smacked the armrest. “McKale is fifty? Dude!”
“Cassidy Renee, if you interrupt me one more time you’ll be sitting with your father away from this conversation.” Cass grumbled but shut up. Mom looked back at me. “I’ve done a lot of digging for information over the years. Fifty is young by their standards. You know magic enables the Dightheach to live longer than usual. But the average lifespan of a Leprechaun is a thousand years because the magic is so engrained into their DNA.”
A thousand? Wow. My parents would be middle aged for a long, long time before they finally appeared “old.” They would probably live between three and four hundred years, which meant Cass and I would as well. Magical families had to periodically move and change identity to keep up the façade.
“When McKale came along there was a lot of talk among the magical people around the world. Supposedly he was the healthiest Chaun to be born in centuries. Some say he was gifted as a newborn by a Faerie of the night. Some say he was born without dwarfism, so the genetics that were hindering the other babies did not affect him.” A look of hope must have landed on my face because Mom shot me a cautious look. “It’s all hearsay, dearest. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” She appeared regretful and my hopes sank again.
“Fact is, the Chaun and Fae both agreed that McKale was their best chance at strengthening the clan lines again, and they wanted a magical female whose bloodlines had never before been crossed with the Chaun. Your father and I were in Ireland seventeen years ago delivering our latest reports to the Fae when all of this talk was going on. I’d just given birth to you three weeks prior, Robyn. You were strapped to my chest in a carrier.” Her eyes went dark. “A Faerie woman saw you and laid claim.”
“What do you mean?” I shivered and rubbed my arms.
“Laid claim?” Cassidy asked. “That’s creepy. Couldn’t you tell her no?”
Mom’s chin quivered. “Leon, get me another drink, would you, love?”
My father nodded and pushed the call button. A minute later the drink was delivered. When the flight attendant went back to the server alley, Dad passed us the drink, down the line until it reached Mom. I’d never seen her drink like this. She downed half the glass before continuing.
“We tried. The Fair Folk are not accustomed to being denied anything and they’re easily offended. They see humans as dispensable, even magical ones like us. Let’s just say the Fae woman made a comment about you disappearing in the night.’”
“They threatened you!” My anger immediately switched targets from my parents to the Fae.
“Yes. I knew at that moment they would have you one way or another. Either we agreed to let you bind with the Leprechaun boy for a time, or they would steal you for their plaything. If that happened you would have been lost to us.”
“They can’t do that!” Cassidy’s eyes burned with indignation.
But they could, and we all knew it.
I’d only heard bad things about their race of creatures. Everything they did was for their own good. The humans who helped them, like my parents, did so only as a favor to humanity. They kept humans safe from the beings who thought so little of them. Mom laid a hand on my forearm.
“As a little girl you took the news of your binding so well. I was worried you’d be scared about Leprechauns back then. And then when you got older, I knew you’d be upset about the possible, um, physical issues. I wanted you to be happy for as long as possible, but I let too much time pass.”
I desperately wished she would have told me at the same time she told me everything else. Maybe I could have adjusted to the idea. Or, maybe not. Mom’s brown eyes were round and imploring as she looked at me.
“Well,” I said. “You did save me from being taken. That’s… something.”
She took my hand and we both squeezed.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” I whispered.
Mom wouldn’t meet my eyes. I looked over at my father and he stared back at me, offering no sign of false encouragement.
“We’re at the mercy of the Fae,” he said, keeping his voice down.
“In other words,” I stated, needing all the facts laid out, “they could kill us if I don’t want to bind with him.”
“Or take us into Faerie,” Dad said.
Mom closed her eyes and shuddered with disgust. I shared a sickened look with my sister.
“It will work out,” Dad said.
I wondered how he could sound so assured. A long, silent pause stretched while we soaked in the information and listened to the drone of jet engines.