by M. C. Aquila
“Right,” James continued, undeterred. “And how, exactly, is having Cai around less dangerous? Or do you just ignore things like that when it’s your judgment to make?”
Iain had nothing to say to that. James knew his words stung, but he pushed back the guilt he felt, knowing that what he’d said was true.
Chapter Twelve
There was one photograph of Delphina that Mum owned. It was an instant photo distorted with exposure of two teenaged girls sitting beside each other in a church pew. They were wearing matching long black velvet skirts and red sweaters, and they might have looked identical if not for the contrast in their demeanors. Mum had her cheekiest grin on, posing for the camera like a model with her hands under her chin. Next to her, her taller, gaunter sister sat up straight, her smile controlled.
As Iain walked, he searched for that face in the sea of the crowd and wondered if she would still be recognizable.
Mum had shown Iain that photograph when he was around eight or nine, and it had been odd realizing that she had been young once too. She hadn’t just always been Mum. She had a whole life he’d never known about, a sister he’d never met, a family he’d never know.
She had been sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands as she studied the photograph on the table. Even then, Iain had noticed the hidden sorrow she carried with her and wore in private—it was bone-deep, weighing down her thin shoulders. Sometimes he had worried it would crush her.
But when he and his brother were there, she put on a smile.
She showed him the image, saying, “I was sixteen here. Delphi was eighteen. We’d left Ukraine a few years beforehand. It’s strange to think I was in Neo-London the same time as your father.” She’d nudged him, asking, “What would’ve happened if we’d met then? What do you think he’d have said?”
“He’d say you’re pretty,” Iain had answered in earnest.
She had laughed and then dragged her hand across her eyes, swiping tears away like she was angry with them. “I was just thinking about my family, about people I miss. Sometimes you can love someone so much that it makes you sad.”
“Like your sister? You miss her?”
“A little, but sometimes you can miss people who are not even gone. People you live with every day. Love is… strange like that.”
As he walked, he kept thinking that he could still smell the faery fruit, and his heart had yet to stop racing since he’d arrived at the festival. When someone bumped into him, he nearly jolted out of his skin but blamed his jumpiness on Cai trying to grab the amulet from him.
The amulet…
Iain reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and produced the amulet. Not wanting to lose it or have it picked from his pocket, he hesitated a moment before clasping it around his neck and tucking it into his shirt.
The metal was soothing against his skin, like a cold, wet washcloth on a fevered forehead. As if soothing the fever away, the coldness of it made him focus on the task at hand, forgetting about the fruit. The fog in his mind cleared, and his heart calmed.
Mum needs us. I’ve got to focus.
“Excuse me. Do you know of a coppersmith named Delphina Demeter?” Iain asked a vendor who had intricate iron pieces displayed at his table. Alvey and Deirdre stayed a fair distance back. “My brother and I are looking for our aunt, and we’re in too much of a rush to search every booth.”
The man scratched at his scraggly beard. “Don’t know about a Demeter, but I’ve seen a woman selling copper. Heats, hammers, and shapes it right in front of you.” He leaned over his table, pointing down the line of stalls. “She’s right near the end of the festival grounds. Keep walking toward those trees at the other end, and you can’t miss her.”
“Thank you,” Iain said and motioned for the others to follow him.
James’s eyes were usually roving and hungry in a place like this with so many trinkets to see, but he kept his head upright, his vision fixed on the path ahead, his strides determined. Nothing distracted him now.
After Iain slowed to match his pace, the brothers walked side by side and did not need to speak. In that rare moment, they were of one mind with one goal.
They walked down a final line of stalls. Woodsmoke twisted in the air like snakes, and as the trees came into view, an odd, rhythmic sound could be heard: the ting, ting, clang of metal being struck.
Deirdre let out a soft gasp behind him. “It’s beautiful.”
The stall in question was straight ahead of them, the table adorned with shiny copper pots, kettles, cups, and cauldrons, displayed on colorful, floral scarves just like the ones Mum used to wear in her hair—just like the one around James’s neck.
To the side of the stall, a young man with lighter skin but with the same thick, dark hair that ran in their family sat on a stool beside a basket of copper sheets, hammering away at a copper vase with neat, precise strikes, creating decorative divots in the metal. Beside him, wood burned in a grill for heating the tools. He had a pencil behind his ear, and on the other side of him was a pile of A-level textbooks he was apparently studying.
Behind the booth, a willowy woman was leaning over and adjusting each art piece just so. Her long hair was pinned into a braid around her head, and she wore glasses that drooped to the tip of her thin, pointed nose. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater and a long black velvet skirt, with elegant copper flower earrings dangling from her ears. She looked so much like Mum that Iain’s heart clenched.
Frowning, Delphina glanced over to the young man, who had sighed, and said to him, “You can take a break to study when I say so. Just finish that vase first.”
“Yes, Bibi.”
Iain stared at the young man, wondering if he was part of their family too. He knew that term was used to mean aunt, but that relation wasn’t possible. Then he remembered it was also a term of respect for a matriarch.
Delphina looked the part as she straightened her posture and met their gaze with watchful eyes the color of caramel.
“Hey, Bibi, we have customers,” the young man said with a huge grin as they approached.
“Delphina Demeter?” Iain asked as he stepped up to the booth, James right behind him. “You’re Kallista Callaghan’s sister, aren’t you? We’re her sons. I’m Iain, and this”—he gestured over his shoulder—“is my brother, James.”
“Uh, hello,” James said, popping out from behind him.
The words lingered in the air like the smoke from the fire.
Delphina’s gaze widened and flicked from Iain to James, her mouth a hard line and her nostrils flaring as she exhaled. Then she shook her head and let out a string of foreign words, then slammed her hands on the table, making the copper pieces quake.
“I knew it,” she hissed, hunching her shoulders and clawing at the table scarves.
Then she threw back her head and barked a humorless laugh. “I knew that she would send you here one day, come crawling back! So what did she send you here for with your smiles and your doe eyes, huh? Did she send you for money? Did that worthless gazho husband of hers leave her? I would not be surprised; I told her he was no good.”
Iain’s stomach went cold. He froze, barely breathing.
“You mean… you mean you don’t know where she is?” James asked in disbelief, quaking, his voice growing louder with each word. “How can you not know? She— You were the last person who saw her.”
Delphina lowered her arms, straightening, her mouth parting. “Kallista isn’t with you? Explain yourselves right now.”
“Bibi—?” The young man started to speak, but she shot her hand up to silence him.
When his little brother turned to him, his green eyes searching his, and croaked, “Iain, she has to know where Mum is,” Iain snapped himself out of his shock.
Leaning over the table toward Delphina, Iain stated firmly, “She hasn’t come home in six years. That’s why we’re here. To look for her.”
Delphina took a step back, her hand out as if searching for something to hold her uprig
ht, and brought her other hand to her mouth. “I told her not to do this. I told her to go home. But she didn’t listen. Why did she never listen?
“You, Jal,” she said after a moment, looking at James. “You’re not still cursed, are you?”
James blinked at his second name before he shook his head, swallowing hard. “No. Mum—we think she took my place.”
Delphina ran her hands over her face, smoothing back her hair and resting them on her head. She stayed like that for a minute before turning to the young coppersmith. “Give us a minute. I need to sort this out.”
He left immediately, taking his textbooks with him.
Clearing her throat, Alvey interrupted. “Firstly, I have need of some fine copper. I assume your prices are fair? It would be proper of you to give Iain a discount since he is your kin.”
Deirdre, James, and Iain all sighed in exasperation at once. While Delphina settled on a price that suited Alvey, who began to examine each piece of copper with her hands, Deirdre browsed the jewelry as well.
When it came time to pay, Iain handed Delphina some extra coins and asked for the jangly bangles Deirdre had been eyeing to be added to their purchase. He was not as embarrassed about the gift as he thought he would be, and Deirdre’s squeal of surprise was well worth the money.
Delphina then brought her chair around to the front of the booth and sat down heavily. She offered the stool to one of them, but they were too restless to sit.
Once she was settled, she began, “Your mother did come to me six years ago, asking what I knew about children who were marked by magic. Told me that some faery had said her baby was in danger.” Sighing, she continued. “I’d had dealings with Fae before, only because of this festival. I wanted nothing to do with them otherwise. But they appreciate my art, for whatever reason, and their money is good. So yes, I’d heard of marks before. I told her what I knew about thralls… A nasty business.”
“Did you tell her someplace to go for help?” Iain asked.
“I told her to go home.” Delphina scoffed. “I told her the same story we grew up hearing—that any infant who someone tried to curse would be safe because of their third names. Names have power.”
Beside him, James’s head snapped up from where he had been glowering at the ground. “What—what do you mean by that? I’ve, um, heard that before,” he said.
“For someone to be sold as a thrall, the faery that owns them must know their full name. In some traditions, a person has more than one name,” Delphina explained. “For the Roma, we have names for the gazhe to hear, and we have names for our community to hear. Then some of us have a third name for protection.
“No one knew Jal’s third name!” Delphina threw her hands in the air, scoffing. “That is why I told her to go home because Kallista had never told anyone.”
Beside him, Iain felt James go rigid and he heard him suck in a breath. Iain placed his hand on James’s back, steadying him.
Her hands curled into fists in her lap, gripping the fabric of her skirt. Delphina said, her voice laced with bitterness, “But of course she had to do something about it anyway. She couldn’t just listen or let things be. She was always stubborn and arrogant like that. Never thinking of the consequences—”
“You’re wrong,” James snapped.
Delphina raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, you think so? You don’t know her like I do. Why do you think she went after that creature instead of going home to her family? It was because she could not refuse a challenge. It’s because she was too proud and too stubborn to leave things as she found them.”
“What about his father?” Alvey asked calmly. “Would he have known James’s third name?”
Delphina gaped at her. “You don’t mean—? That can’t be true.”
“Well,” Iain said, his voice low, “it is true.”
Delphina said, her voice hollow, “I knew he was… I thought he was a selfish man, but I never thought he would do something like that. Not to Kallista. Not to his own son. But perhaps any credit I gave him was too much.”
After a brief silence that followed, Iain asked quietly, “Do you know where she could have gone to find out more about the creature?”
But Delphina was already shaking her head. “I don’t know where she is. I have no way of knowing.”
James stepped forward, breathless, and began, “The creature that has her is a faery cat, and it lives in the moorlands.”
“I cannot help you.”
“She’s in danger—” Iain began, his voice firm.
“What do you mean you can’t help?” James demanded. “And she… she wouldn’t have—”
Standing to her feet, Delphina shouted over them, “Whatever happened to her, it’s her own fault! If she had just listened to me for once, we would not be in this mess.”
Iain wished he could be angry like James was, but all he felt was cold, deep sorrow. It seemed like they had been so close to finding Mum. Now they were back where they started, only more confused and lost.
He heard the jangling of Deirdre’s new bangles on her wrist before he saw her sidle up to him. When she tilted her face to look at him, her eyes were full of sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “What do you think we’ll do now? We have to find your mother.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, quiet enough so his brother would not hear. “Maybe the Summer Prince could help us somehow. I… I don’t know. I just can’t believe she won’t help us. Her own sister. It’s unthinkable.”
I was so wrong about her. How could I have been so wrong? How did I let this happen? James… How is James going to cope with this?
I can’t let him down again.
The festival grounds became more noisy and lively as the wedding drew closer, with more people streaming to the southeastern clearing and wedding ground. Delphina grumbled to herself as they passed about how she knew the marriage wouldn’t last but how she hoped the copper napkin rings she gifted to them would at least get her some publicity.
James stood, his hands clenched into fists, his face a blank mask, shut down, until Deirdre touched his arm gently, asking, “Why don’t we go do something fun? It will take your mind off things for a while.”
“That’s a great idea,” Iain said, and he fished through his pack for his wallet and gave James a couple of notes. They were dangerously low on funds, but his brother needed the distraction.
“Are you coming?” Deirdre asked him, rocking back on her heels. “I saw a lot of neat-looking booths and games on the way here. I bet you could win one of those throwing challenges!”
She was radiating so much excitement that it made him wish things were different and they were here under different circumstances. That they could just be like other young people who were there for the fun of it.
Iain shook his head, his smile faint. “I wish I could, but I think I should stay here.”
“What about meeting Cai?” she asked.
Glancing at the ground, Iain said, “I’ll meet him, just like I said. I think I’ll talk to Delphina a bit first. Maybe she’ll have a change of heart or something.”
I’ll just give Cai his amulet back, and he’ll be on his way. But maybe he’ll stay. One more chance—that’s what I’ll give him. Just one.
Tilting her head in thoughtful contemplation, Deirdre pointed out, “You believe in people a lot. People like Cai, who don’t really deserve it.”
“I—” Iain broke off, stunned for a second. “I don’t really know about that.”
“That’s a good thing, by the way,” Deirdre clarified, waving her hand with a jingle of the bangles. “You’re a good person, Iain.”
The coldness in his chest faded, replaced by a comfortable but overwhelming warmth. She couldn’t have known how badly he’d needed to hear it, even if he didn’t quite believe it was true yet and even though he was working toward it. He didn’t think a good person would have ever made the mistakes he had in his life.
It was then that Iai
n realized what had felt so familiar about what the amulet showed him. The vision’s purpose hadn’t been about showing him Cai’s titles or capabilities at all.
Cai’s like me; all he needs to light a fire inside him is someone believing in him, like how Arthur believed in him.
Iain, resolved, nodded to Deirdre. “You go have fun with James. Keep him busy, yeah?”
“I’ll do my best!” Deirdre clapped her hands together.
Chapter Thirteen
Losing Deirdre was not difficult. She was unused to so many people being in one place, while James had learned from growing up in Neo-London how to slip through a crowd unnoticed and how to make himself invisible even with his mother’s colorful scarf still around his neck like a lantern in the cold gray autumn day.
Sorry, James thought with a twinge of guilt as he darted around shoulders and ducked behind stalls, leaving Deirdre behind. But I’ve got to do this, and I know you would stop me.
He had one of his notebooks and pens out at the ready, the section open to everything he knew about Mum, yet he could not seem to bring himself to write down what he had just learned. Writing down that he had nothing would give it life, and then it would be real.
Beyond the chattering of hundreds of voices, all tinged with different accents and pitches, the swift and rollicking melody of a fiddle could be heard. The song danced in a sudden gust of stormy wind like a leaf, leading James to the area of the festival reserved for performances and stage shows.
Ahead of him inside a small tent, he could see the fiddler, Vera, playing on a flimsy wooden stage that buckled under her boots as she danced about. People were clapping and stamping, laughing and cheering. James stood and stared, unable to pry his eyes away, as people shouldered past and bumped into him.
The rapt audience was packed in the tight space, everyone’s eyes focused on Vera. James tucked his notebook into his front jacket pocket, thinking that he would write about it later; he found himself beginning to smile, the fire in his chest beginning to smother.