“Of course.” The old woman followed me, and with that, our meeting came to an end. Damon went into his room to check on Matthew while Lyari began to fiddle with the TV remote, frowning. I resisted looking toward the big bed awaiting me, visible through the open door. Soon, I promised myself.
Once we reached the kitchen, I faced Emma again. It was futile to lower my voice, but I did anyway. “Lyari will be staying with us for a while. If she tries to leave, don’t let her. It’s just her pride.”
“Sounds like someone else I know. Are you heading into town with your friend? Gilbert, you said his name was?”
“I think he prefers Gil. But yes, I shouldn’t be gone long.”
“Before you do that, you may want to poke your head in there.” Emma pointed her thumb toward the end of the hall. I gave her a curious look of my own, but she didn’t offer an explanation. As I walked away I heard her tell Finn, “We seem to be running out of available beds. Maybe you and I should move back to the house, for the time being.”
He made a huffing sound that expressed how he felt about separating from me, but I was too distracted to feel any warmth or amusement. Running out of beds? I thought with a frown. The couch was a pullout, which meant we should’ve had enough. Maybe Emma didn’t know. I made a mental note to tell her once I’d investigated whatever it was she wanted me to see.
The door at the end of the hall was slightly ajar. Thinking there would be no one on the other side, I pushed it open. I realized my mistake immediately, and a jolt of surprise went through my frame.
Nym stood near the window.
He looked drastically different from the last time I’d visited him. More… put together, although the clothes he wore were clearly Damon’s. His shoulder-length hair had been recently washed and combed. I glanced at those pointed ears and thought of his fae hearing. He must’ve been listening to everything we’d discussed in the living room. If Nym felt anything about my return, though, or the potential threat Belanor represented, he didn’t show it. The faerie’s nose was pressed to the glass, both of his hands flattened against it.
I started to wonder what he was doing here, and a memory filled my head before the thought had fully formed. Nym… would you like to come live with me?
Truth be told, I’d forgotten about the offer I made that night. I had just killed everyone at the black market and confronted Collith about his dark secret, so my state of mind hadn’t exactly been clear or stable.
The same could be said for Nym, yet he clearly hadn’t forgotten our conversation. In the brief time he’d been here, the faerie had made this space his own. The walls were covered in artwork, pages and pages, the top edge of every paper jagged from where it had been ripped from a sketchbook. Looking at the images, I remembered that Collith had once spoken of Nym drawing me.
The question was, why was he still doing it?
Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see my real face—or whatever face he saw when he looked at me—I took off the ring and put it in my pocket. A quake of trepidation went through me as I started forward. The faerie didn’t move or say a word at the sound of my approach. Once I was close enough I said softly, “Hi, Nym.”
Even now, he didn’t turn or meet my gaze. “My lady. Everyone has been so worried about you,” he murmured.
I studied Nym’s profile. He stared at the darkened trees with an expression of intense thought. His face was tinted with yellow light, along with the rest of the room. It was deceptive, because it made everything seem serene.
I pulled out of my thoughts, realizing that Nym was trying to say something. His mouth moved, but the words were so quiet I couldn’t hear. Still fighting a sense of unease, I tucked my hair behind my ear and leaned closer.
“…can do it,” Nym was whispering. “I can do it. I can do it.”
Without warning, he whirled to face me. I couldn’t help but take a step back. Nym’s palm became a fist against the window, and his gaze was so heated that it burned holes in me. My heart pounded.
“What’s the point of having wings if I can’t fly?” the faerie demanded, veins standing out in his pale forehead.
I held onto my guise of neutrality, every word I uttered slow and deliberate. “I don’t know, Nym.”
Something about this made the faerie blink. Maybe it was hearing his name out loud and being reminded of who he was. His palm was still fused to the window, and, slowly, Nym’s attention slid away from me and back to the unreachable beyond. “My wings are beautiful, aren’t they?” he murmured.
As if to taunt him, a black bird swooped into view, casting a shadow over us. I tracked it with my eyes for a moment, biting my lip against a pang of sympathy. What a special torment it was, to carry the marks of wings on your body for all eternity. To remember what it had felt like to have them.
“Yes, they are, Nym. Very beautiful,” I said softly.
Once again, my response seemed to calm him, and I watched Nym’s wild eyes go dull with sorrow. His voice was childlike again as he asked, “What do they look like?”
For a moment I considered telling him the awful truth—that he had no wings. That he was nothing but a scrambled shadow of a person. But I couldn’t do it. If we didn’t have hope, what else was there?
Instead, I offered him the pretty lies he yearned for. “They look like light. Such strong, pure light. I’ve never seen its equal before, so nothing can compare.”
I stopped, holding my breath. Nym didn’t react. Had I gone too far? For a moment, I worried I should’ve described the human cliché for wings, frilly-looking adornments of white feathers and a bird-like shape… but then Nym smiled, a dreamy curve of the lips. As if it was a gift, what I had given him. Such a small thing; I’d simply fed his illusion. If I were in his place, was that what I would’ve wanted?
Making a mental note to speak with the rest of my family about Nym, because they should’ve gotten a vote before I made an unpredictable faerie our new roommate, I went back to the door. I opened it just as his voice sounded behind me.
“Queen Fortuna?”
With one hand on the doorknob, I glanced over my shoulder. Nym hadn’t moved from his place beside the window, and at this angle, this moment, he looked like a painting or a story brought to life. Strands of his hair caught the dying light. “Yes?”
His tone became flawlessly polite. A courtier’s way of speaking, especially the older ones. “May I trouble you for a clock?”
The request sent a swirl of worry through me, like leaves disturbed by a gust of wind. I remembered his rooms from the Unseelie Court. All those clocks broken and shattered. The ticking forever silenced, as if Nym had been desperate to make time stop. Out loud I said, “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll pick one when the stores are open.”
He dipped his head. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“You can just call me Fortuna, you know,” I remarked.
Nym just turned away, as if he hadn’t heard me at all. It was obvious from his slack expression that his mind had gone to another place again. No doubt it was a memory from his long, extraordinary life, images and events that spanned back to the beginning of time. Seeing the awed haze in Nym’s eyes, I almost envied his ability to escape into such a whimsical world.