“I’m Itheelia,” the woman tells me.
My mouth falls open.
“Le Faye?” I blink at her. Of course! From the book! I thought she looked familiar. “The founder?” I clarify.
“Ah.” She sighs. “If you believe certain history books…”
“I’ve read all about you. You came here with your brother and—”
“And my best friends.” She nods.
“You travelled across six galaxies!”
“So have you.” She gives me a look. “Well, actually, Earth is perhaps just two stops from here, but nevertheless, quite a trip, wouldn’t you say?”
“Quite, yes.” I nod, staring over at her in awe before I find myself shaking my head. “I’m so sorry, I just—how are you alive still?”
She throws Jamison a look, as though I’m the rudest girl in all the world.
“It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” I add quickly when she doesn’t answer me.
She nods, and a look I can’t quite place rests on her face. “Aye, it was a long time ago.” Then she clears her throat. “Why were you in a canoe, Daphne Beaumont-Darling?”
I cross my arms over my chest proudly. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I see.” She nods and then her eyes pinch. “Now, when you say entertaining…” She eyes Jamison suspiciously, and I wonder if they’re going to have a lovers’ quarrel.
I would be fairly gutted if indeed he had brought me up a mountain to dangle his potential other lover in my face, and if she’s the reason he didn’t kiss me, even though it was snowing and the breeze was begging us to and everything, I suppose I should cause a lovers’ quarrel between them for just some small slice of justice.
Jamison smiles uncomfortably and I—already annoyed at him, both for indisputably ruining our (almost) kiss and for hypothetically being romantically involved with yet another person—clear my throat.
“It was entertainment of the sexual variety,” I tell her merrily as I toss him under the bus.
The woman rolls her eyes and growls, “Jammie.”
“Mum, listen—”
“Mum!” I interrupt, looking back and forth between them like a Ping-Pong match.
“Oh.” He gestures at her vaguely as a son might. “This here is my mother.”
“Oh!” I extend my hand to her again. “Oh, it’s such a pleasure!”
His mother shakes my hand with both of hers, smiling. “You know, he’s never brought me a girl before.”
Jamison shakes his head. “I’m no’ bringing her t’ye. She’s—”
“Is she a girl?” she asks her son, impatiently.
Jamison glances at me. “Aye.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “And she is here, is she not?”
Jem rolls his eyes and looks away, and I get the distinct impression that she is a woman who oft gets her way.
His mother shakes her head and holds up a hand to silence him. “Was it that Morrigan girl he was with last night?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t quite catch her name.” I look at Jamison, eyebrows up, asking without asking, even though I know it was.
He rolls his eyes and nods all at once.
“Jammie.”
“Unfortunately,” I say to reinsert myself into the conversation, “I saw it all. She was bent over a table and everything.”
Itheelia grimaces. “That is unfortunate.”
“All right, listen.” Jamison groans. “She wusnae too hard done by, ye ken.”
Itheelia gives him a tight smile, patting him on the arm. “Then, darling, that doesn’t sound like a job very well done, does it?”
He drops his head backwards towards the sky, defeated.
“Where’s your coat?” his mother asks. “It’s Baltic up here.”
“She’s wearing it.” He points to me, I think just a little bit eager to get the focus off himself.
“Why didn’t you bring a jacket?” she asks me, appalled. “Making my son freeze for you.”
Jamison flashes me a smug smile.
I clap my hand on my chest in self-defence. “I didn’t know I was going to the mountains today, and my fairy didn’t want to make me a jacket.”
She blinks. “You have a fairy?”
“Well—” I tilt my head. “No?”
“Maybe?” Jamison considers. “Sor’ of.”
“No.” I shake my head. “She’s my friend. She made me these boots.” I flash them to her.
Itheelia stares at them, frowning a bit. “What’s this fairy’s name?”
“Rune,” I tell her. “Why?”
She shakes her head, thinking. “Just, strange. Fairies don’t tend to take to little earthlings all that often.”
I’m not entirely sure that that’s an insult, but I’m also not not sure either.
“Well, she certainly didn’t care for it when Jamison asked her to make me a coat so he didn’t have to give me his.”
He breathes out loudly again as his mother gasps, smacking him on the arm. He throws me an unimpressed look, and I don’t know what I’ve done but I grin at him, pleased he’s back in trouble again.
“You asked a fairy to make you something?”
“Her something!”
“What did she say?”
I jump back in. “Mostly she just yelled at him and told him to give me his.”
Her eyes pinch at me. “You speak Stj?r?”
“Well too.” Jamison nods, staring over at me, and for some reason, I blush.
“Interesting.” She nods to herself and then turns away. She snaps her fingers and slides her hand to the right, and the rocks move with her, revealing a home built within the wall of the cave.
My jaw falls to the floor, and I grab Jem’s arm with both my hands as I stare up at him. “She’s magic?”
He smiles down at me and walks inside, and somehow, for some reason, I don’t let go of him. My grip moves down a little so I’m holding on to his wrist now, almost hugging his arm as we walk into his mother’s home.
I lean in towards him and whisper, “Why is she magic and you’re not?”
“I could be.” He shrugs. “Probably am. Just daen practice.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Why?”
He shrugs again with the indifference that a person only can if they’ve grown up around magic. “Who has the time?”
“You—” I stare at him. “What do you even do in a day?”
“Oh, you know.” He sighs but catches my eye playfully. “Rescue women that fall from the sky, buy wayward souls dresses—”
I (unsuccessfully) bite back a smile.
Itheelia Le Faye is rummaging around in a wardrobe, and when she turns back around to us, she’s holding a beautiful fur coat in her arms.
Her eyes land on my hands, holding her son how I am, and she stares for a few seconds. Then, ever so faintly, as though tugged by an invisible string, I see a hint of a smile.
“Put this on.” She shoves the coat into my hands.
Somewhat reluctantly, I unfurl myself from Jamison’s arm, and he gently tugs his coat off my body.
“First time I’m undressing ye and it’s in front of my marm,” he sighs, and I roll my eyes at him.
He pulls his coat back on himself and blows air out of his mouth like he’s been freezing this whole time (though he’s not said a word about it), then he takes the coat from my arms and holds it open for me. I slip inside it, and maybe his hands hover on my arms a second longer than they need to, I’m not sure.