Believing in Blue

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Believing in Blue Page 21

by Maggie Morton


  While they waited for Zyr to return, Sia keeping a very careful watch over Ember, Sia noticed the girl’s facial features were beginning to fade. Just like they had when she’d looked like Wren…and her body began to shake again, too. This time, Sia only allowed herself to be mildly worried, because what did it matter if Ember looked terrified as the last of her face faded into blankness?

  Sia wasn’t too happy when Ember stopped shaking, because now it seemed she was once again disguised as Wren. She didn’t manage to pull off her disguise completely, though, because instead of Wren’s purely blue wings, these were about half red.

  “Guess your powers are weaker here, huh?” Sia didn’t let Ember’s reversion to looking like Wren again fool her this time. She didn’t let it kill her appetite, either.

  Instead, she gobbled down the rest of the fruit and bread, and was halfway thinking of getting a second serving of the bread, and maybe some cheese, when her mom came back through the door. The top of a glass bottle was peeking out of her left hand. Zyr walked until she was facing Wren, who was starting to shake again. Soon enough, she once more looked like Ember. Strangely, throughout this third change, Zyr’s lips were slightly turned up, and the way she looked at “Wren” was soft, almost like she felt concern for her.

  Of course, that couldn’t possibly be the case. Her mom was a really kind person, but it wasn’t reasonable for her to act this friendly with one of their biggest enemies. Especially an enemy who Sia knew was an absolutely horrible person. So she crossed her arms and stared Ember down, hoping the peach hadn’t left its usual purple splotches around her scowling mouth.

  “So, Ember, or Wren, you’re really willing to drink this?” As Zyr placed the black, square bottle on the table, she didn’t look the least bit angry. That was all right; Sia knew her own expression was intimidating enough for the two of them. But a quick glance at her older brother showed that he didn’t look mad, either, just cautious and, perhaps, a bit curious.

  “Yes, of course, Zyr. Anything to prove my innocence.” Before Sia could scoff aloud at this ridiculous statement, Ember popped out the potion’s stopper and downed all the liquid in a few loud swallows.

  Zyr’s mouth fell open the second the bottle became empty. “You, uh, aren’t supposed to drink the whole thing,” Zyr told her with raised brows. “It isn’t perfected yet. There might be side effects…”

  The only side effect at first was the small burp that came from Ember, followed by a slightly embarrassed sounding “Excuse me.” She put the bottle back on the table, looking a little green. “That wasn’t…I mean, no offense, but you might want to work on the flavor. It tasted kind of fishy.”

  “Well, at least we know it’s made you honest enough to be rude,” Sia grumbled. “Although you probably would have said that anyway.”

  She continued glaring at Ember but found her frown softening when Ember said, “Could you please stop looking so angry, Sia? It’s kind of scaring me. So’s the fact that I look like Ember, but maybe now you’ll actually believe me when I tell you I’m not. And also, I really don’t like looking like her, or sounding like her, and I have no clue why I do.”

  “My goodness.” Now Zyr was grinning, of all things. “So that’s your mother’s power! Quite a good one, if you ask me.”

  “You mean…you mean not only is this really Wren, but she’s finally gotten her power?” Sia was just beginning to adjust to the fact that Ember, or Wren, actually, had been telling the truth all along.

  “What power? You mean, the fact that I can look like Ember? Not really a power I want to have, to be honest. Can I trade it in for another?”

  “Wren, dear, you wouldn’t want to, nor would you be able to. But this is one of the best powers possible. It means more than that you can shapeshift to look like other Winged. It means something else, too, but I believe we’ll have to ask Piru to research that, as it has been many years since we’ve had a Winged Changer. Well, at least since your mother, I suppose.”

  “M-my mother.” It seemed like the stress of the night had caught up to Wren all at once, because now she began to sob.

  “Wren?” Sia didn’t like this latest turn of events, even if it meant she was now certain this was Wren, not Ember. No evil villainess could cry that convincingly. “Oh, Wren, I’m so sorry. Do you…do you want a hug?”

  In reply, Wren-in-Ember-form grabbed Sia and pulled her in close, practically crushing her in her tight embrace. Sia decided against mentioning it, instead just enjoying having Wren hug her, even if she didn’t look like herself. But she was acting like herself, because these clearly weren’t Komodo-dragon tears. Or was it alligator? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she wanted to help Wren feel better, and if that meant having her own breathing be mildly impaired, she would gladly put up with a slight lack of oxygen.

  “Should we take you to your dad?” Sia asked, her words coming out a little choked. This brought on another bout of sobbing from Wren. God, couldn’t she say anything right? First she’d proved to Wren that her mother wasn’t to be trusted, and then that the young woman she’d just recently been kissing was an evil bitch. And to top it all off, she hadn’t trusted Wren in her Ember form.

  “Yes!” Wren cried out in answer, loudly, and right by Sia’s left ear. Now Sia had a slight headache along with her current challenge with getting enough air. It was still a fair trade, since it seemed like the choking hug was probably helping Wren. And the fact that Wren was clinging tightly to her, Wren’s body pressed against hers, well, that felt like it was all the payment she needed for giving Wren whatever comfort the hug could provide. Not that Wren owed her anything. No, Sia owed Wren something, a debt she would do almost anything to repay. But before Sia could start brainstorming ways to make it up to her, Wren slowly let go, her own familiar, beautiful, and currently tear-covered face coming into view.

  “So, what’s with your red-and-blue wings, Wren?” This was only the second time Kriss had spoken, but it was definitely a question worth voicing.

  “Her mom, Passea, is a Winged Red,” Sia told him, worried that her words would bring on a new bout of tears. Luckily, they didn’t seem to. Wren was even smiling a bit. “After all,” she said, turning in Kriss’s direction, “Wren had to get this power from somewhere, and apparently her mom was able to hide the true color of her wings. And of her soul,” Sia couldn’t help adding. Wren looked like she was just about to start crying again at those words, so Sia quickly added, “But Wren is clearly nothing like her. She obviously takes after her dad. And Passea did say that she doesn’t want Wren hurt. Although thankfully,” and Sia shot a very happy grin in Wren’s direction, “we don’t have to worry about Ember hurting her now anymore, either. You’re safe now, Wren. Isn’t that great?”

  “What would be even greater is if I could see my dad. Do you think…do you think it’s too late at night for us to go now? I don’t want to bother him or anything.”

  “Oh my, Wren! Bother him?” Zyr shook her head back and forth, and Sia noticed a few seconds later that she was echoing the gesture. How could Wren have possibly thought her safe return would be a “bother”?

  “Let’s head straight there,” Sia suggested. “Torien will be incredibly relieved to see you’re home now, and unharmed.”

  Wren rose from the table. She seemed ready to leave, until a worried look appeared on her face. “Do you think…I mean, I overheard the triplets talking before we left, and…are you sure we can trust my dad? They were saying things that made it sound like he couldn’t be, and…I’m just afraid what they said might have been true.”

  “Or maybe the Winged Red found some way to make them say those things, or…wait, I have an idea. Mom?” Sia asked, standing up and looking at Zyr. “Do you have any more of that potion? I’m sure Torien would be happy to drink it, and the triplets, too. That would convince you, wouldn’t it, Wren?”

  “Yeah, I think it would.”

  “You two start over to Torien’s, then,” Zyr said. “I wan
t to tell your father that Wren is back, Sia, and then I’ll grab the potion and follow you two.”

  Sia was surprised when Zyr began to look startled. Turning, she saw that Wren no longer looked like Wren, but like the woman from her vision, the one who apparently was Passea, Wren’s mom. She realized that Wren had sensed something was wrong when Wren-with-Passea’s-face said, “What is it, Si…oh, God, do I look like my mom now? After all, I sound just like her. Well, even if my dad can be trusted, now he won’t trust me!”

  Her lower lip began to quiver. Sia wanted nothing more than to reassure her, so she looked into Wren’s eyes and said, “It’ll all work out, I’m sure of it. Now, let’s get going. I know for certain that your dad will want to see you as soon as possible. In fact, maybe we could fly over there. And just maybe your mom is better at flying than you. Want to attempt some loop-de-loops? Or instead, we could try to scare some night-pigeons?”

  That got a small laugh out of Wren, who apparently looked like Passea right then, and who also sounded just like her when she giggled at Sia’s joke. This would definitely take some getting used to.

  “You ready to go then?” Sia gestured toward the hallway. “I’m guessing you’d like to get to bed soon, anyway, seeing as it’s pretty late, so why don’t we get the hopefully-not-too-tearful reunion out of the way so you can hit the grass?”

  “Grass? Do you mean hay?”

  “Something like that, yeah. I still have a lot of trouble with all the human slang,” Sia told her as they headed down the hallway.

  Outside, it proved to be a slightly chilly but clear-skied night. The golden moon was almost full. When they took off a few paces away from Sia’s front door, she glanced at Wren, who still looked like Passea. Sia wondered if Wren’s half-blue, half-red wings were here to stay. They just might be, considering her blood was half-Blue and half-Red, too.

  Wren-with-Passea’s-face looked happy, although Sia would have preferred to see that smile on Wren’s face instead of the face of their shared enemy. Still, even if she looked nothing like herself, there was still some sort of Wren-like essence to Passea’s features, almost as though Sia could see who really lay hidden beneath the full-body mask.

  But just as the land Torien’s mansion sat upon began to come into view beneath them, Sia heard a sharp gasp from Wren’s direction. A quick look showed her that Wren’s face was beginning to disappear yet again, and this time her non-Wren face changed much faster than before, her body altering shape and size as well, until she looked like herself again. Only seconds after that, she began to transform again, back into Passea, and it was then that she began to fall, her wings suddenly gone.

  Sia dove after her. About ten feet above the ground, she just managed to grab Wren, stopping her from hitting the hard cobblestone street that had been uncomfortably close to Wren’s head. But she couldn’t keep them both in the air, and so with as much grace as she could manage, she landed and placed Wren on the street, kneeling beside her. She might have become unconscious when she began to fall, but at least she looked like herself once again.

  Luckily, Wren was just barely light enough for Sia to carry her the rest of the way to Torien’s, at least while walking on the ground. His mansion was only about twenty of Sia’s footsteps away from where they’d almost crash-landed. Upon reaching the front door, Sia kicked it twice with her foot, almost falling over in the process.

  An exhausted-appearing Torien answered the door, but he looked like he’d had a double shot of adrenaline the second he laid his eyes on who Sia was holding. “You found Wren? Where was she? Oh, I’m so glad she’s safe. Come in, Sia, and here, let me take over.” The relief showed clearly in his voice, but he also seemed to have held on to some of his anxiety about his daughter. Sia couldn’t blame him, either, since he had no idea why Wren had passed out. And admittedly, neither did Sia.

  She was grateful to hand Wren over, because despite the pleasure that came from holding her so close, Sia’s arms were starting to ache. She took turns rubbing some life back into each aching arm as she followed a Wren-laden Torien into the large sitting room, where he laid his daughter on one of the couches. Sia sat down opposite her, and she took a deep breath in preparation of explaining everything to Torien. She figured the wings coming out of Wren’s back at that moment might help explain the story at least a little, because their vibrant combination of red and blue feathers told a story of their own.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The first thing Wren saw when she opened her eyes was what must have been the ceiling in her dad’s large living room. No one else she knew had a fresco of ravens performing what might have been Shakespeare on their ceiling, much less one as well-rendered and realistic looking as this. For some reason, the painting was striking her as funny right then, and she let out a high-pitched peal of laughter.

  Had her laugh always sounded so strange? Or was this just what it would sound like now that she’d learned she was the daughter of a mother she couldn’t trust? And a father who might soon be joining her as equally untrustworthy? Those thoughts cut her laughter short, but not before someone in the room had taken note of it.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling well enough to laugh, sweetheart,” Torien said. She turned toward his voice and saw her father staring down at her. The way he was looking at her was confusing at first. But soon, she decided it was because he seemed equally concerned and relieved, if such an incongruous combination could be held on one person’s face. And now she had to wonder: were those his true feelings, or were they just an act, just something to keep her thinking that he was worth trusting?

  To his left stood Piru, who looked almost as if he wasn’t glad to see her, glancing quickly from her face to his feet and back again. Standing in a group behind the second-largest sofa in the room—she seemed to be lying on the biggest one—stood Faest, Speyd, and then Quiq, whose expressions of concern intensified in the same order they stood. Quiq even went so far as to be wringing his hands, not something she’d seen too many men do before that moment. His tightly knit brow and pursed lips almost made his caring expression look believable. But she was guessing it wasn’t, and so she followed that guess with another: that it was meant to look the most extreme because he and her stepmom were obviously both still buddy-buddy. Denise was standing so close to him, they were almost touching. Buddy-buddy, or, more accurately, kissy-kissy.

  “Ew,” Wren said with a grimace. Not the most impressive statement to open with, but now it was too late to say something more intelligent, like, “How could you betray me, you dastardly, loutish threesome?” Instead, she slowly pushed herself upright, because she didn’t think lying on her side was the best pose if she needed to defend herself against any of them. “Hi, Dad. Hi, triplets. Fooled any unsuspecting teenagers lately?” These words did nothing to lessen her pronounced scowl, and their accompanying thoughts only increased her hopefully obvious distaste at sharing the room with those three bastards.

  “Come again?” Speyd asked with a slightly stupefied expression.

  “Yeah, why aren’t you happy to see us?” Faest asked, an equally intense scowl now directed right back at Wren.

  Quiq didn’t frown or sound even slightly as irritated as Speyd had. Instead, his mouth had fallen open a little at Wren’s words, as if he were genuinely surprised at her accusation. “What do you mean, Wren?” he finally said. “What do you think we’ve done?”

  “Nothing much, just worked side by side with my dad to pull the wool over my eyes. It’s bad enough that Passea can’t be trusted, and now there’s this brand-new power I’ve received, which I have pretty much no control over, not that that fact concerns you guys in the least. I just need to know if there’s anyone, anyone at all I can even begin to trust in this world.”

  Just as she finished speaking, Zyr entered the room, striding quickly over to where the six Winged Blue stood around Wren. She realized then that she was the only person who wasn’t standing; while she’d rather stay seated, it wasn’t exactly a
position of power in this situation. Wren stood up, quicker than she probably should have, as a slight floaty feeling in her head made her grab for the table beside the couch.

  “Wren, you look like you might be a little dizzy,” Zyr said. She was the first person whose worried expression Wren decided she could trust at the moment. “Here, I brought the potion. Why don’t you fill everyone in, Sia? And Wren, I think you should sit back down, considering how much you’ve just been through.”

  Wren allowed Zyr to help her back onto the couch, its support helping her head to feel more stable. Standing or not, fainting probably wouldn’t make her look as though she could hold her own against the triplets and her father. But as Sia told them the whole story, starting with her visions, continuing with her trip to the Winged Red’s land, and ending with Wren finally gaining her power, the “honesty potion” (as Wren had taken to thinking of it) was passed to Torien and then each of the triplets. All of them willingly drank from it without any sign of hesitation. And when each of them told Wren the truth, that they could be trusted, she decided she didn’t need to put up any sort of front; she relaxed enough to let herself sink into a slight slouch against the sofa’s soft, plush pillows.

  It came out that two of the triplets hadn’t even been home the night Wren had been sneaking out of the mansion. Instead, Speyd told her they had been out with a group of friends until three in the morning, which earned a stern look from Torien. “You were supposed to be guarding Wren’s room as planned,” he said gruffly. Despite how she felt about being protected without her knowledge (not all that happy!), Wren was too tired to complain. Besides, it was slightly touching, even if it would’ve been less patronizing if her dad had asked her permission first.

  “I was here, actually,” Quiq told them, and Wren wondered why he was suddenly blushing.

 

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