“Grandma told Aunt Nora that Mom had trouble bonding with me, even after I was born, even after I was returned to her. It wasn't until I started smiling at her that the regret she'd carried since she found out she was pregnant with me melted away and she let herself enjoy being my mother. Still, Grandma didn't think Mom ever felt the same way about me as she did about Shan or Alon. Everyone knew my life was accidental and that I was the bastard of a low-class thief, and people outside our family never let me forget it.
“I know I'm not unloved, but I feel . . . I feel extraneous, a remnant of a past mistake. I didn't tell Mom or Shan what I heard, so knowing I was born unwanted is something I carry around alone. I don't quite fit in with the Sylleths, I certainly don't fit in with the Goldtrees, and I don't know if I'll ever be more than maybe a darling outlier to any family at all. I wonder about that other family, the one I was given to and who had me as their own for just a short few hours. Grandma didn't say their name, so I don't know who they were, or if they adopted other children after I was so quickly torn away from them. I do know my life would have been very different, though I don't know how. Maybe I would have had more of a sense of belonging with them, I don't know. It's a ridiculous thing to think about, something that happened seventeen years ago and remained unknown and unspoken until I accidentally overheard. I want to belong to something, but all I can do is sit outside the window and peek in.”
“You belong to me,” Serida said. She nuzzled the top of my head. “I belong to you. I was born into hesitation, same as you. I feel alone even among friends, same as you. I feel loved but unwanted, same as you. I wonder if I'd feel differently with another, same as you. We are the same.”
“I don't want you to feel how I do, because how I feel hurts so deeply I don't know how to even begin relieving the pain.” I reached up and stroked the silky scales of her cheek. I could feel her texture but not her warmth. “I'm sorry I made you feel unwanted. That wasn't my intent. I don't know how to fix this because it's something neither of us are capable of forgetting.”
Serida pressed her face against my palm. “Accept me, accept yourself, accept our bond. No regret and no more hesitation, never again alone. I am yours and you are mine and we are one, so accept me as part of your own soul because we are bound together, always.”
“What will I become if I fully surrender to our bond?” I asked.
“Free. We are not ready for full surrender, my Tessen, and we won't be for years. All I ask right now is you let go of the past and your regret and accept me, like your mother did with you.”
I gazed into her eyes as the waves roared and the birds swooped and called. My tears dried as salt upon my cheeks and my breaths flowed easily. “I accept you, Serida. I love you and I accept you. No more reservations or regrets. We belong to each other.”
∆∆∆
I woke with a burning headache and an acidic taste on my tongue. The fiddle was next to me, nestled into a shabby case. A small, smooth wooden box was tucked under the bow.
“Chirp?” Serida looked down at me, her neck craned into a question mark. She nudged my temple, then chirped again.
“Was that you in my dream or only me pretending to be you?” I asked.
“Chirp.”
“You? All right, then. I'm going to claim it was you, and in that case, I meant what I said. I accept you.”
I slowly sat upright and looked around. The Owlfae and their wagons were gone. The only evidence that they had been in the meadow at all were the smoldering remnants of the rat effigy bonfire and the matted circle of grass surrounding it. My companions were still asleep, but the filtered light that reached through the clouds told me it was midday.
I reached for the small box in the fiddle case. As far as I could see, no one else had an instrument next to them, so I wondered why the Owlfae had left me the fiddle. Maybe none of them were able to play the instrument with their large and clawed fingers, so they thought I would get more use out of it. I appreciated the gift, though I wasn't sure if my companions would once I started playing it to keep myself entertained on the road.
The small box didn't rattle as I picked it up. I held it close and rotated it to examine the unusual rippled grain of the polished wood. The brass hinges swung open easily to reveal a pair of spectacles nestled on a pillow of blue silk. I put them on and the trees instantly came into focus. Great green blobs resolved into leaves and brown fuzz condensed into trunks.
“Whoa.” I lowered the spectacles from my eyes, then pushed them back up to the bridge of my nose. “I can see. I never knew clouds were so . . . so detailed.”
“You look like a University Master,” Shan mumbled from under Marita's sprawled arm and Lumin's draped tail. He stared at me, then propped himself on his elbow and narrowed his eyes. “Where'd you get those? Never mind. That's not so interesting. Wait until you see what your eyes look like now.”
“Huh?”
“I don't have a mirror. You'll have to wait.” Shan's fingers walked across the grass until they came to rest on a flat box with flowering rosemary painted on the top. “What's this?”
“I think the Owlfae left us gifts,” I said. Serida and I stared at each other. She tilted her head to the side and I mirrored her movement. She sneezed and shook her head.
Shan opened the box. “It's a silver compass. It's pointing right at you, though. You're not north of me. What good's a compass that doesn't point north?”
I shrugged and scratched the back of Serida's neck. “Maybe it's for something other than finding north.”
“Maybe. How well can you see with those spectacles?”
“I see everything, near and far. It's almost like they were made for my eyes. I'm not sure how they could have known these would be correct for my vision.”
“Trade me for a minute,” Shan said. He passed me the compass and I set the spectacles on his palm. He put them on, blinked twice, and looked around as best he could while still on the ground. “I don't see a difference, so I don't know how they're making things clearer for you. Wait . . . they do have a magic aura. Maybe they adjust for the wearer. The compass has an aura, too. Where's it pointing for you?”
I cradled the compass in both hands. “It's pointing at you.”
“Huh. Here, give it back.”
We traded again. I returned the spectacles to my nose and smiled as clarity once again overtook blur. “I like these. I could see shapes in the distance before, but now I can see exactly what those shapes are.”
“I point the way to what you love most,” Shan whispered.
“What?”
Shan held up the compass. “It's inscribed on the back. See?”
The engraving was made up of unintelligible lines and squiggles. “Um, what language is that? I don't recognize it.”
Shan scrunched his nose and raised an eyebrow. “First language you ever learned to read. Bacran Common. What the hell does it look like?”
“Nonsense. Looks like total nonsense.” I raised the spectacles to get a better look and the lines reordered themselves into exactly what Shan had read. I lowered the spectacles and the engraving scrambled. “Okay, that's strange. I can't read it with these on.”
“Odd.”
“Very.”
“Damnable lightbinder witches.” Shan sighed and turned the compass over and over between his fingers. “Magical objects tend to be mostly useless because the only magic-skilled people who can create them are extremely rare and often incompetent. The competent ones are eccentrics who usually would rather play around with the limits of their own fanciful reality than create things that would actually benefit anyone but themselves. The objects are very good at one or two tasks but they're useless,or even contradictory, otherwise. Seems you can see better with those things, but you can't read. I can't find my way out of a tangled blanket with this compass, but I can be reminded that you're the person I love most in the world, and it seems to be mutual. That's a nice reminder, and one I needed.”
“Same
for me.” The dream was still fresh in my mind, and now so again was the memory of the eavesdropped conversation. Grandma and Aunt Nora didn't know that I'd been listening. Mom didn't know. Shan didn't know about either the conversation or the event that prompted it, the caustic argument I had with Aunt Nora after she told me I shouldn't be living alone. Shan didn't need to know and I wasn't going to tell him. I wondered if Mom had told Ragan about giving me up, maybe when they were chasing a mark together or late one night when I was asleep. Maybe that was part of why he had always treated me like I was his own child, even in the beginning when I was so nasty to him.
Serida slunk under my arm and onto my folded legs. She nudged my hand, demanding that I scratch her chin. Satisfied, she stretched her neck and flicked her tongue at the metal frames of my spectacles. Her head waved from side to side as she thoroughly examined both the spectacles and the eyes they sat before.
Shan picked apart blades of grass, stripping them into long threads from the tops down. “Your eyes are really . . . different. I'm warning you now because I know it's going to bother you when you see them. The spectacles distract from them a little bit, but they're still startling.”
I stared down at the dirt, regarding each ant and each pebble. My eyes were hot, my cheeks flushed. I hadn't even seen myself yet and I was on the verge of tears. “Of all the things that could have changed, it had to be my eyes, didn't it? I had my father's eyes and now I don't. I lost something that I didn't even realize was important to me until it was gone. Seems to be a trend in my life.”
Shan's nose twitched. “It's only been what, six or seven months since you found out your father was murdered and didn't purposely abandoned you? That's a short time to assign importance to something insignificant.”
“It wasn't insignificant.”
“Fine, I'll say sentimental, not insignificant. There is a lot more to you and to your link to Rohir than your appearance. Trust me on that.” Shan winced as he touched the back of his hand to his scarred face. “I don't look like I did before and I'm still getting used to it. I don't startle when I catch a glimpse of my reflection anymore, and eventually you won't, either.”
“You think I'll startle? Why? All I had yesterday was some extra color in my irises.” I was worried now. The initial color variation was subtle enough that no one noticed it from a distance. Shan's reaction to me implied that this new change was more extreme.
Shan swallowed and held a knuckle to his lips. “It's . . . it's a little jarring. You'll get used to it.”
“I have a mirror.” Marita sat up and blinked at me. I hadn't noticed that she was awake. She reached for her satchel, but her hand abruptly switched directions as she picked up a small box. “What's this?”
“The Owlfae left us gifts,” Shan said. He rolled onto his back and reached up to touch Marita's cheek. “I dreamed about you. It was a good dream, a very good dream.”
Marita pushed her errant auburn hair out of the way so she could kiss Shan's lips. “Oh? You'll have to tell me more when we're not being stared at by your brother.”
“Open the box. Tessen and I were given magical objects, but they're a little odd.”
“You mean the spectacles or the eyes? They're both cute on you, Tessen.”
“Whatever has happened to my eyes is from Serida. The spectacles are from the Owlfae. I can see distance now, but I have to take them off to read because they turn words into nonsense scribbles.” I tapped on my knee with one hand and kept the other on Serida's back. My anxious heart threatened to burst from my chest and bolt for the woods. I needed to borrow Marita's mirror, but it was clear the little box had stolen her attention for the moment.
“Pretty.” Marita held up a silver acorn pendant on a delicate chain. A slip of paper fluttered to the ground.
Shan picked up the paper and held it above his head. “Warning: locket vial contains squirrel and chipmunk pheromones, infinite volume. Open to attract woodland rodents.”
Marita laughed. “It does not say that.”
“It does.” Shan gave Marita the paper.
Marita squinted and her upper lip curled. “You're right, it does. How bizarre. What use do I have for squirrel pheromones?”
“You're the green witch, not me. Never know when you'll need to summon yourself a rodent army to wage battle against malicious chickadees.” Shan giggled and sat partially upright. “Like I told Tes a few minutes ago, most magical objects aren't particularly useful.”
“Well, I like it, even if it contains infinite squirrel cologne.” Marita undid the chain clasp and refastened it behind her neck. She adjusted the acorn vial so it sat over her sternum, then reached again for her satchel. “Mirror. Almost forgot.” She pulled out the small mirror and held it so the reflective side faced her. “Take a deep breath, Tessen. You'll adjust to this, I promise.”
She handed me the mirror. I turned it around and gasped. My eyes were no longer human. Not a hint of the original dark brown remained in the odd-colored irises, which now took up the entire visible surface of my corneas. Blue for the right, amber for the left. My pupils were no longer round, but instead vertical slits, like those of a Faeline, or of a . . .
“I have dragon eyes. Serida's eyes, exactly.” This didn't upset me as much as I anticipated, and my heart returned to a calm and steady rhythm. My brown eyes were already altered before this change, so seeing them altered again wasn't as unnerving even though the change was more extreme. I had accepted Serida and my bond with her, and with that came the inevitability that I would change. Marita and Shan were right, I would get used to it. “It's strange, but I kind of like them. It would have been nice if they'd given me dragon sight, but I guess that's what the Owlfae spectacles are for.”
“You're not upset?” Shan asked, concerned wrinkling his brow.
I shook my head and returned the mirror to Marita. “No. I'm okay. I need to be, for Serida's sake as well as my own. Honestly, I think I'm all right with this.”
“Huh. I was expecting more of a panic. You always panic.” Shan shook his fingers through his hair before resting them on sleeping Lumin's flank.
Serida purred and rubbed her cheek against mine. I needed to make sure she never again felt rejected. I knew too well how much that hurt.
I gazed around the camp. We were still the only ones awake. Even the horses were too drowsy to be considered conscious. “Shan, everyone can see how being dragonbound is changing me. What is it doing to you? Have you noticed anything different yet?”
Shan squinted at the clouds, then at Lumin. “My senses are heightened, almost to the point of discomfort. Colors are brighter, sounds are louder. It's overwhelming and sometimes nauseating. Other than that, I don't know.”
“Does Lumin speak to you in your dreams?” I asked.
“No. He's in my dreams, but it's lots of growling and frolicking, no speech. Does Serida speak to you?”
“Yes. That is recent, though, so maybe Lumin just hasn't figured out how yet. They're still babies, and babies learn new skills at different rates.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Shan's hand returned to Marita's face. “I slept so well, but I'm still tired.”
Marita kissed Shan's hand. “No one else is awake, so why bother avoiding sleep? Go back to sleep. You too, Tessen. You're still recovering and you look exhausted. I'm fine, so I'll be on watch.”
Chapter 32
It was late afternoon before everyone woke. It was too late in the day to make any further progress toward the Mala Basin, so it was decided that we'd stay in the meadow another night. The break was welcomed as an opportunity to nurse hangovers and examine the gifts the Owlfae had left behind for everyone.
Ragan's gift was a hatchet with a green handle. Striking a tree with it didn't damage the tree, but instead caused it to grow. “Useless,” Ragan muttered when he read the note wrapped around the handle, but the little axe soon became an object of entertainment for him. He spent the next hour beating on saplings until they sprouted into behemoths. Breathless
, he amended his original statement. “Not so useless, as long as I've got a proper axe to go with it. A little labor, and we can create our own firewood or building wood.”
Rose's gift was the ugliest fur collar I had ever seen, and we suspected it was sewn from basin rat fur. It was mottled gray and brown of color with an oily texture and a strong musk. Inking on the leathery underside promised that the wearer's entire body would be protected from temperature extremes, both cold and hot. Rose held it an arm's length from her body and cringed. “I think . . . I think I'll tuck this away somewhere safe and discreet until it's needed.”
Iefyr's gift at first seemed to be a rare and useful gem of a magical object—a quiver that never ran out of arrows. If he removed all the arrows, more instantly sprouted to replace what was missing. There was a small problem, though. The arrow quality was slightly below mediocre. Some had curved or brittle shafts, some were weighted unevenly, some had missing fletching or blunt heads, and about one out of ten behaved in a completely bizarre fashion such as flying in a zig-zag pattern, igniting as soon as it was drawn from the quiver, or most commonly, screaming and begging not to be shot. We gave Iefyr plenty of space while he tested the arrows, but occasionally one still boomeranged away from the target and necessitated a dodge. Iefyr laughed as he strapped the quiver to his saddlebag. “I think I'll save these for a last resort in case my good arrows run out and I'm not within shooting distance of anyone I'd rather not accidentally kill. Won't take too long. I'm down to fifteen of my own arrows”
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