Nicole walked almost tentatively, swiveling her head around as if trying to look everywhere at once.
“This place is absolutely beautiful,” she said quietly.
I glanced around. She was right. I often took it for granted, having grown up here, but the natural marble and other stonework throughout the fortress were exquisite.
“You can use my old room tonight,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll look into getting you your own permanent quarters.”
I winced as soon as the word “permanent” left my mouth.
“Why would I need my own quarters?” she said, her alarm echoing off the walls. “I don’t need my own quarters here.”
I waved a hand. “Oh, just so you have your own space,” I said vaguely.
Eventually Nicole would have the option to go back to the other side of the hedge and renounce Faerie forever. Right then, given the choice, she certainly would. That was why the homecoming of a changeling was a process. And at the end of the process, changelings hardly ever turned their backs on their true home. It took some time, but being in Faerie seemed to unlock something buried deep within their souls, surfacing a knowledge that they didn’t fully belong to the human race. It was a matter of uncovering something they’d always had but hadn’t been fully aware of.
But for the moment, the fortress was the safest place for Nicole. If she went back to the Earthly realm while Periclase was still hot on the idea that she was a valuable Duergar princess, he’d have her kidnapped again. That, at least, had to be resolved. One way to settle it would be to find out that Nicole wasn’t his blood daughter. Another would be to have her swear to the Stone Order.
As we walked through the hallways, I began to sense Nicole’s exhaustion. Her adrenaline was probably long gone, and it was after midnight. But we had one more stop to make before I could let her rest.
When we reached Oliver’s door, I knocked sharply three times. I half-expected him to be asleep, but I should have known better. He was one of those people who seemed eternally on alert. Even when I was a kid, I never remembered him being in bed. He’d always turned in after I did and rose before my alarm.
After a few seconds, I heard movement behind the door, and then it opened.
“This is Nicole,” I said to him. I turned to my sister. “Nicole, this is your father, Oliver Maguire.”
He blinked at her a couple of times, and his brows lifted maybe a hair, which was the equivalent of a dramatic gasp coming from anyone else. Then he swung the door wider, silently inviting us in.
As I passed him, he nodded at me. A rare expression of approval. I’d completed the task he’d given me.
“I had to tell her we’re sisters,” I said to him in a low voice. “She didn’t want to come with me.”
Oliver’s eyes tightened, but he didn’t say anything.
Nicole had moved into the middle of the room and was watching him, her face suspicious. It was obvious she still didn’t believe she was related to me and Oliver.
He gave her an appraising once-over. “You’re quite old for a changeling. Did you ever have any inkling you were Fae?”
This was a standard part of the questions she’d be answering more formally later.
She folded her arms. “None whatsoever, and I still don’t.” But then her brow furrowed, and she seemed to turn inward. Her face became uncertain. “If I did, I’d feel some kind of connection or . . . known something. Even if it was just in a dream. Right?”
Oliver’s eyes gleamed a little. The fact that she was even asking, and especially the mention of dreams, meant that there was something tickling at the back of her mind. She didn’t realize it yet, or if she did, she didn’t want to examine it.
He tilted his head, regarding her. “Not necessarily. Especially if you’re dead set against the idea.” He glanced at me. “She doesn’t look at all like a New Garg.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nicole demanded.
I peered at her. I hadn’t thought about it before, but Oliver was right. She didn’t have the strong build or the musculature that were the hallmarks of New Garg Fae. She didn’t even resemble me in particularly obvious ways. We had similar coloring and straight brows, our eyes were the same tawny color, and perhaps we had the same curve of the chin, but that was about it.
Was that why Nicole had been chosen to go to the Earthly realm and grow up as human? A simple twist of fate which gave her an appearance that would more likely fit in with human parents? I couldn’t imagine not growing up Fae. Having an ordinary human life, and like the humans surrounding me, having only the vaguest awareness of Faerie. I was New Garg born and raised, even if I preferred to live and work on the other side of the hedge. My magic. The years I’d spent training with weapons. My stone armor. My shadowsteel spellblade. My very personality. They were all inherent to my identity and molded by being Fae. I couldn’t imagine any alternate Petra Maguire that could exist without them.
“It just means that your—our—other blood, the part that isn’t New Gargoyle, is probably more dominant in you,” I said, trying to speak gently to offset some of Oliver’s bluntness.
I flicked a glance at him out of the corners of my eyes. Had he been the one to choose Nicole to leave Faerie and keep me? Or had it been my mother’s decision?
She sighed, slumping a little, and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what any of that means.” She sounded near tears.
Oliver shifted a little.
“Why don’t we let her get some sleep?” I suggested.
I thought I saw relief flash in his eyes. “Yes, it’s late.”
Then Oliver’s face hardened, and I knew something serious was coming.
“There is one vital thing you must understand,” he said, his eyes serious and his voice commanding. “You cannot, under any circumstances, reveal that you’re Petra’s sister or my daughter. As far as anyone else is concerned, you’re a New Gargoyle changeling of unknown parentage.”
She drew back a little, her eyes widening.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
She blinked and then nodded vigorously. “Yes, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Magic tingled the air, marking the oath. He dipped his chin once, and as she turned for the door, he reached out and touched her shoulder gently, almost tentatively.
“This is a lot to take in,” he said, his voice much softer than before. “It’s a process, and this is just the start. Welcome home, Nicole.”
I tried not to stare at him. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard him speak that way.