Breeana Puttroff's Blog
July 1, 2019
After the Wedding #1
Exclusively for Newsletter Subscribers
“You do know how to put on a party.”
Quinn turned her head just enough to see the side of Jonathan’s face. She didn’t know he’d come to be standing right next to her, but then, she often didn’t understand how he managed the things he did. She chuckled softly. “I don’t know anything about putting on parties. I didn’t do any of this. You can thank my head housekeeper, Ruth, for most of it. My mother and sisters and a few others are responsible for the rest.”
He was silent for a moment–a rare state for him, before he let out a laugh and moved even closer to her shoulder. “Your mother?”
“You do know how to put on a party.”
Quinn turned her head just enough to see the side of Jonathan’s face. She didn’t know he’d come to be standing right next to her, but then, she often didn’t understand how he managed the things he did. She chuckled softly. “I don’t know anything about putting on parties. I didn’t do any of this. You can thank my head housekeeper, Ruth, for most of it. My mother and sisters and a few others are responsible for the rest.”
He was silent for a moment–a rare state for him, before he let out a laugh and moved even closer to her shoulder. “Your mother?”
It was bait. He was trying to get a rise out of her, and there was a time it would have worked. But that time was over now. “One of them. I suppose not everyone is lucky enough to have two.”
His gaze traveled around the ballroom, pausing at the candlelit centerpieces on the tables scattered around, lingering on the musicians in the corner, playing a joyful melody while children spun and slid in their stockings around the marble floor. “As I said, Your Majesty, you have learned to put on quite the party. It really is magnificent, even if it is a bit…small.”
“I did invite him, you know.”
“I know. I suspect he even considered coming. But, some families are more complicated than others.”
She turned and gave him half a smile. “That’s a kind way of putting it.”
He laughed out loud. “I have had far more practice with the rest of our relatives than you have, Queen Quinn. Not everyone is lucky enough to have even one mother the likes of either of yours.”
She fought to keep herself from sighing, fought to keep her arms relaxed at her sides instead of crossing them in front of her chest. It was already so hard, on a day like today, to not be thinking of her other mother, the one who’d given birth to her and raised her. The one who would have very much liked to be in attendance at Zander’s wedding, if she wasn’t living in an entirely different world. But today, Quinn only wanted to celebrate her siblings and the friends who had just become her family, too.
“I’m sure Charles had his reasons for not coming, Jonathan. I don’t expect everyone to take the chance of traveling across the kingdom when we’re still working to get the last of the gray throat epidemic under control. Charles was asked only recently to stay put and tend to things in his own village. I’d hardly expect him to actually make the trek to a small wedding party, although I did invite him as a courtesy. I wouldn’t really expect you to be here either, if…”
“If I were allowed to leave the castle?”
“If you were allowed to leave the castle, I imagine that Ellen is the only one of my father’s siblings I’d see for moons and moons right now, yes. Although, you’d probably show up in the middle of the night with a strange child you kidnapped, just to be entertaining.”
“I’m not much of one for doing the same thing twice, Your Majesty. I get bored too quickly.”
“I’m sure.” She didn’t even try to fight the chuckle that escaped. If nothing else, her uncle was entertaining.
“Speaking of the child…”
“She’s over there.” Quinn nodded to the far corner of the room, where a woman sat with the tiny child in her lap, both of them mostly hidden behind a table piled high with drinks and food and various articles of children’s clothing. “She’s recovering slowly, but seems to be doing quite a bit better. She took a liking to Mia’s mother almost right away. Nobody else can hold her like that–except Mia.”
Jonathan chuckled to himself. “I am glad to hear she’s doing so well. You intend to keep her, then?”
“We intend to provide whatever the child needs, including shelter, food, and as much love and care as we can until such time as we might reunite her with her own family,” William said from behind the two of them. Quinn didn’t know how long he’d been listening, but she didn’t care, either. She stretched her hand toward him, reveling in the warmth and safety of his hand closing securely around hers.
William stepped in close and leaned down to kiss Quinn softly on the lips, using his free hand to brush his fingers down the side of her cheek. He lingered for just a little longer than was technically appropriate, given the audience, but she didn’t stop him. The emotion and excitement of the weddings had gotten to both of them today, and the party had now dragged on slightly too long.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us, Jonathan,” William said once he finally broke away. “But some of our guests will be wanting to leave soon, and we need to be making our formal exit so that the new couples can retire for some time to themselves.”
Jonathan held out one hand and gave a little bow. “I’ll be happy to see myself out once you’re gone, Your Majesties.”
Quinn managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Sir Ethan will be happy to escort you back to your rooms,” she said, nodding at the guard standing behind them.
“Someday, your Majesty, you’ll realize you can’t lock me up forever for nothing.”
“Perhaps someday, Jonathan. We’ll see.”
William squeezed her hand as he led her away; she couldn’t tell if the curl at the edge of his lip was amusement or exasperation. Probably both.
Thomas and Mia stood just to the side of the dance floor, so close to each other it was hard to tell where Thomas’s velvet cape ended and Mia’s dress began, both of them the rich purple of Eirentheos, lined with silver stitching. Linnea and Zander were only a few feet away from them, standing together on the dance floor, swaying back and forth to the music. Their arms were so tightly wound around each other as they kissed, again, that it might have been inappropriate had it not been their wedding night. And even so…
“We may have left this too late,” William said, close to her ear. She couldn’t see his mouth, but she could feel the laughter in his breath against her cheek. They’ll all run out of here too fast for us to surprise them.”
“Will they really be surprised, do you think?”
He squeezed her hand as he shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
*****
Zander thought he should be used to all this by now. He’d been in this world long enough that the grandiosity of formal events shouldn’t still surprise him. But it did. Even this ceremony, tiny by royal standards in Philotheum, had been more beautiful and elaborate than he’d ever dreamed his wedding would be. And still, as he looked at Linnea standing beside him, his bride–could that be real?–he wished he could have given her even more.
Just as he thought this, she turned slightly and slid her arm behind his back, resting her head against his shoulder. “This was perfect,” she whispered.
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close to his side and kissed her temple. “Are you sure it was enough?”
She looked up at him with her wide, gray eyes, studying his face in that way that made him feel like she could see into the depths of his soul. Maybe she could. “This never had to be enough, Zander. This was only a party. You, however…” She squeezed herself tightly against him and slid her hand across his back and down to his hip so she could grab his other hand and twine her fingers with his. “You are enough.”
It was such a simple thing–such a Linnea thing to say, really, and yet, somehow, it was exactly what he needed to hear right then. Today had been so wonderful in so many ways, but, still, there had been several times today he’d felt it so acutely, the absence of the people who should have been at his wedding. And then, suddenly, he needed to pull his hand away from hers so he could wipe at the moisture in his eyes. He didn’t know where that had come from.
“I wish you had everyone here who should be, too,” she said quietly, and he felt a tiny spot of warm dampness through his shirt where the side of her face rested on his shoulder. She didn’t make any move to hide it; she just pressed even closer to him.
There was a lump in his throat now, too, but it didn’t matter. “Supposed to isn’t real,” he whispered around it.
She reached for his hand again, pulling it down to his waist, making him hold the soft weight of her arm against him. “It still hurts on days like today, though,” she said gently. “And that’s okay. It means they’re real and they still matter.”
“Everyone is here who needs to be,” he murmured against her hair, breathing in the scent of the rose oil she’d bathed with this morning. She must have… No, thinking about Linnea in the bath was not a good plan while they still stood in the ballroom surrounded by dozens of people. Instead, he glanced over at the tables, catching Charlotte’s eye.
His new mother-in-law smiled and rose from her seat entirely too gracefully for a woman balancing an infant in each arm. She extracted her necklace from the grabby hands of one of the babies–Benjamin–and handed him to her husband before crossing the room toward them.
As soon as she reached them, tiny Adeline stretched out her hands and nearly dove from her grandmother’s arms into Linnea’s, where she immediately grabbed a strand of Linnea’s hair and began chewing it. Zander chuckled and helped Linnea extract the tiny beast, somehow winding up with Adeline in his arms instead. Not that he minded. He snuggled the warm little weight of her close to his chest and planted a kiss in her hair while she found the hem of her dress and shoved that into her mouth, instead.
“They’re getting hungry and tired,” Charlotte said. “As are the two of you, I expect? Tired, anyway?”
Zander was not in the least bit tired, but he suspected from the glimmer in Charlotte’s eyes that she knew this already, and he simply nodded.
Although Quinn was most definitely getting her bearings as queen, her skills were nothing compared to Charlotte’s. The next few minutes under Charlotte’s guidance were the smoothest, most organized whirlwind Zander had ever seen. He didn’t remember quite how they’d all made it to the staircase in the main hall, but he was reasonably certain that the guests had all been bid a proper farewell, and that the whole exit had looked as though it had been planned and choreographed for moons. Of course, in Charlotte’s extensive collection of notebooks, it probably had.
In any case, he and Linnea each held one of the babies as they followed the rest of the members of the Rose family up the sweeping staircase, Thomas and Mia were beside them, looking as confused as he felt. He’d imagined a lot of things about his wedding night, but most of them had involved him and Linnea alone, not surrounded by their entire family.
content
.et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_content { background-color: #3b3b3b !important; } .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container .et_bloom_form_header { background-color: #9c30ff !important; } .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_content button { background-color: #ffb200 !important; } .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_content .et_bloom_fields i { color: #ffb200 !important; } .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_content .et_bloom_custom_field_radio i:before { background: #ffb200 !important; } .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_content button { background-color: #ffb200 !important; } .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container h2, .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container h2 span, .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container h2 strong { font-family: "Open Sans", Helvetica, Arial, Lucida, sans-serif; }.et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container p, .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container p span, .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container p strong, .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container form input, .et_bloom .et_bloom_optin_2 .et_bloom_form_container form button span { font-family: "Open Sans", Helvetica, Arial, Lucida, sans-serif; }
Exclusive Subscriber Content!
Join my mailing list to get the latest news and read this exclusive content.
SUBSCRIBE!
You have Successfully Subscribed!
If you're already a subscriber, that's awesome! Entering your e-mail in this form will give you access to the content. You will not be re-subscribed unless you enter a different e-mail address than you originally used.
January 23, 2019
Seeker Preview: Chapter One
“It’s a girl,” Marius Lockwood whispered.
“A perfect little girl.”
He sat down in the chair next to his wife’s bedside. The
bundle of red blankets in his arms stirred, and a tiny hand popped out from
between the folds. He rocked the baby gently, hoping the small grunts and
whimpers wouldn’t turn into full on screaming. “Shh,” he whispered,
guiding the soft little hand toward the child’s quivering lips. After a few
tense seconds, a miniature thumb disappeared into the mouth and the squeaks melted
into small suckling noises.
“Lyonet,” he said daring a voice louder than a
whisper this time. Still, the figure on the bed didn’t stir. “Please,
love. It’s been hours. Please wake up.” He held his breath and stole a
glance at the foot of the bed for at least the thousandth time, reassuring
himself yet again that the terrifying sight from earlier was gone.
He could breathe again now. It was only a bed, only clean
blankets neatly folded over the mattress. Still, images of piles of bloody
cloth and heartrending screams assaulted him nearly every time he blinked.
Sleep might never be possible again. He cuddled the infant closer, pressing his
cheek close to her nose, just to be certain she breathed.
“How is she?” A quiet voice broke the near
silence, startling him enough that the whole chair twitched. It was only
Sabelina, the caretaker.
He looked over at the bed, trying not to cringe at the sight
of his wife’s too-pale face, and lifted one shoulder. “That woman…the
healer…she said it might be hours before she wakes…before…before we know
anything.” His voice refused to remain steady when he tried to speak, but
he no longer cared.
Sabelina finished straightening the blankets again, and came
to stand behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Where did she come
from, that healer? Who sent her?”
“I don’t know, do I? She just appeared, right when the
midwife…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. Both
of them knew what would have happened–what nearly had happened–if the
midwife had remained here alone. Marius pressed his lips together in a tight
line and, for one second, tore his eyes away from Lyonet to give Sabelina a
look he knew she’d understand.
She did. She understood the situation as well as he did.
Perhaps better. “What will it cost?”
He let out a low chuckle. “More than I can ever afford
to pay.” The infant in his arms, his tiny daughter, moved again,
letting out a little squeak before her perfect little lips closed around her
thumb again. “But less than I’d be willing to.” He bent to kiss the
child’s soft, new forehead, inhaling deeply of her scent.
“Are you going to tell her?” Sabelina’s voice was
barely a whisper. Though she stood only inches away, he wouldn’t have been able
to hear her if he hadn’t been anticipating the question.
He didn’t know how much Sabelina had seen, didn’t know
whether she was asking one question or two, but he moved his head slowly from
side to side one time, the only answer he had for any question at all.
If Sabelina had seen everything, then she might tell Lyonet
herself, might spill all of his secrets. He had no power over her and wouldn’t
have asked for any. She might tell, and it might destroy everything. All he
could do was hope she saw things the way he did, that she would understand why
he couldn’t tell Lyonet, why he never wanted her to know. If Lyonet lived…oh
please, Maker, let her live…he would do anything to spare her more pain.
She’d been through too much already.
Sabelina’s hand fell warm and soft onto his back again,
landing just between his shoulder blades. Unexpected tears sprang into his eyes
and dripped down his cheeks. He moved forward, away from her comfort, and shook
his head again. He couldn’t. Not now. Lyonet could–no, was going to–wake up
at any moment now. He needed to smile, to be in a place of celebration.
The hand dropped away immediately, and he knew Sabelina
understood. “How is the tiny one?”
He turned and forced himself to smile, pulling back the
blankets from around the little face as he did. The baby was tiny, so much
smaller than Tallen had been. Smaller, even, than…no, not today. Today was
for happiness, not for mourning. But this little girl was the smallest
baby he’d ever held. She was warm and soft in his arms, though, her sweet little
face framed with a shock of black-and-red hair that stood on end, even after he
tried to smooth it down.
“May I?” Sabelina asked, extending her arms toward
the child.
He stiffened. Right now, the tiny weight of his daughter
felt like the only thing tethering him to the world.
“Never mind.” Sabelina withdrew her arms but
circled around him and leaned in close to the child in his arms, instead.
“Welcome,” she said, brushing just one finger over those soft,
colorful strands of silky hair.
The baby blinked, and then her whole face scrunched up
tightly before her whole body erupted into a giant sneeze, startling all of
them, but mostly the baby, whose eyes went very wide with confusion.
He looked at Sabelina in alarm.
This time, she didn’t touch him, although he could tell she
wanted to offer him comfort. “Babies sneeze, Marius,” she said
gently.
Did they? Even when they were healthy? He couldn’t remember
if Tallen had, if…
“Yes,” she said, as though he’d asked the question
aloud. Maybe he had. He couldn’t tell anymore. “It’s normal.”
He looked down at the tiny face. The baby looked fine. Her
eyes were clear and bright, a deep violet blue that would probably turn more
violet in time. He bent and kissed her little forehead. As he did, she wiggled
and sneezed again, right in his face.
Behind him, Sabelina chuckled.
“My baby!” The voice was strained and weak, and it
made Marius’s heart race. Clutching the infant close to his chest, he moved to
sit on the edge of the bed.
“I’m right here, Lya. It’s all right. Everything is all
right.”
“Where is my baby?” The words came out in a
panicked sob. “She’s not breathing, Marius, she isn’t breathing.”
He tried to ignore the way his own heart pounded, and his
breaths refused to come. “She’s breathing, love. She’s fine. She’s right
here.” With one hand, he brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his
wife’s forehead and out of her still-closed eyes and his other hand to press
the tiny bundle to her chest. “She’s right here.”
It was only when the baby wriggled against her mother while
letting out a squeak far too big for something so tiny that Lyonet finally
opened her eyes. They were a shocking red color that Marius tried to ignore.
He’d only seen that color one time before, and that was the time he was not going
to think about today.
After several more panicked seconds, Lyonet’s arms finally
closed around the now-squalling infant. She sat up too fast, scooping the child
close to her and pressing her lips against the little forehead. “She’s
warm,” she whispered.
“Yes.” Marius reached for more pillows to pile
behind Lya, allowing her to sit up a bit. “She’s warm. Just like she’s
supposed to be. She’s perfect love. You’re both safe and well.”
Behind him, he could hear Sabelina opening the cabinet where
they kept the extra bedding. After a few seconds, she appeared next to the bed
with even more pillows, and soon, Lyonet was able to sit up enough to relax and
get a good look at her daughter.
“Is she…?” Lyonet peeled back the blankets
around the child, struggling to look her over, peering closely at the little
chest rising and falling.
“Shh…” Marius closed his hand over the baby’s
hair, reassuring both of them. All the motion had disrupted the child, and she
now began to fuss, her eyes scrunching in protest, her cheeks turning red.
“She’s fine. You’re fine, aren’t you little one? The midwife says she’s
perfect.” The healer had said the same thing, but, of course, he wasn’t
going to say that out loud, not now.
“Look at her,” Sabelina whispered. “She is
perfect. And good lungs, too,” she added with a chuckle as the baby let
out an ear-splitting squall.
A tiny bit of color finally filtered into Lyonet’s cheeks,
and her breathing steadied. For the first time all day, Marius felt something
like relief wash over him.
“Where is the midwife now?” Lyonet asked as she
cuddled the baby close, shushing her and kissing her downy head as the infant
relaxed in her mother’s arms, the cries quieting.
“She had another birth to attend to.” Sabelina
fluffed more pillows and arranged the blankets on the bed. “She left once
she was certain that both of you were all right. Are you hungry? You must be.
Let me go and fetch you some tea and soup.” Without waiting for an answer
she disappeared from the room. Lyonet watched her leave and then turned her
gaze to Marius.
“Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you sure
the baby is all right?” She pressed her lips to the infant’s forehead.
“She seems perfect and strong. Just like Tallen
was.”
It wasn’t enough reassurance, not for either of them. Their
first daughter, too, had seemed fine enough at her birth. For a few hours, at
least. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Now was the time to think
about Tallen. He’d seemed fine at his birth–and he had been. He was still a
happy and healthy child. Now that this baby had survived her precarious birth,
there was no reason to believe she wouldn’t always be as perfect as she
appeared right now.
In fact, she sounded very healthy and strong indeed as she
opened her tiny pink mouth and let out a terrific squall. Marius bent to pick
her up, so he could rock her and attempt to calm her again, but Lyonet blocked
him, cuddling the child in close. “She’s hungry. She needs to be with
me.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure? You should be resting,
Lya. You need to regain your strength.”
Although her arms shook with just the effort of lifting the
child to her breast, Lyonet set her jaw and gave him a stern look. “She
has to eat, Marius. I’m all right.”
The baby’s squalls were beginning to reach deafening levels,
illuminating Lyonet’s point all too well. Rocking and bouncing weren’t going to
work this time. And, although he knew Sabelina could go into town and find
someone to feed the child if necessary, but that would take time and cause
unnecessary upset–to both the child and to his wife. And that had to be worse
than the exertion of Lyonet feeding the child herself.
So, he sat down on the bed again, where he would be able to
reach both of them if they needed him.
After a few fraught minutes, the baby’s deafening squalls
turned into contented suckling noises. Although the exertion had brought beads
of sweat to Lyonet’s still-too-pale face, the contented way she stared down at
their daughter allowed Marius to breathe easily for the first time in the last
two days.
“You almost died,” he said quietly, though he
regretted the words almost the instant they were out of his mouth. He didn’t
need to upset Lyonet any further. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“The midwife said…”
“I heard what she said, Marius.” Lyonet stared
intently at the top of the baby’s head. “I would never survive another
birth after this one.”
For several moments, he struggled to breathe again. She’d
heard. He hadn’t thought she could hear anything today. If she’d heard that,
then… He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself composed. This conversation
was difficult enough without adding to it. If she’d heard anything else, she
would let him know soon enough. He’d deal with it then. And if she hadn’t…
He’d carry the burden alone. She didn’t need it, not when he could take it for
her.
“Yes, he whispered. “She’s to be the last
child.”
They hadn’t discussed more children. After their first,
they’d stopped having those kinds of discussions about the future. Both times
since, they’d just known, finally, they were ready to try again. He knew,
though, that both of them had believed, deep down, that someday all the rooms
in the upstairs hallway would be filled.
Lyonet’s bottom lip disappeared, but she still kept her eyes
trained on the baby–on their perfect, beautiful new daughter.
He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt much too thick.
“Well… I can’t imagine why anyone needs more than two children. A son
and a daughter make a perfectly matched set.
The words were the wrong ones. They both knew that. But
they’d also both learned long ago that sometimes there were no right words. All
he could do was bend and lock his eyes with his wife’s, praying fervently that
she would see his heart.
She blinked and gave a single nod.
“You’ve given me wonderful children, Lya. Tallen is
already preparing to take my place as a fine guildmaster, and this little
one… She’ll be the talk of every ball by the time she can walk. We’ll love
her all the more since she’s the last one.”
“You’ll spoil her all the more, you mean,” Lya
said, a tiny glint of humor in her eyes which nearly made him melt with relief.
“That too.” He bent over to kiss his daughter’s
silky hair, basking in her warm, milky, living scent. “What shall we
name her?”
Lyonet was quiet for a long time–for so long, Marius
supposed that his entire world was about to come to a screeching halt yet
again.
But finally, she gently cupped the baby’s head in her hand.
Keeping her eyes locked firmly on their daughter, not on him, she said,
“Ellarowan.”
He took several deep breaths, working to make sure his voice
was steady and calm before he spoke. “Ellarowan? You’re sure?”
“She’s to be my last child. It’s my last chance to
honor her, to remember.”
“Well, it is a beautiful name. Hello, Ellarowan.”
He bent to kiss the baby’s head once more.
January 4, 2019
VERY Spoilery Teaser from Seeker
Despite her strange encounter with the young girl, nobody
else she passed in the castle appeared to see or notice her at all, and though
she held her breath every time, she made it through even guarded doorways with
no difficulty. She knew she was in a different section when she began to hear
children’s voices from behind some of the doors. There was lots of stomping and
giggling, and somewhere, a baby cried for several minutes, making the hair
stand on the back of her neck. A small part of her wanted to get as far away as
she could from this area of the castle, but a larger part wanted to just stand
there, invisible in the hallway, and see as much as possible.
Either way, she was here now, and she wasn’t going to risk
leaving and missing this opportunity. She rounded another corner and saw a new
door standing open.
This room wasn’t empty, either. A young man stood inside,
facing the window with his back to the door–and to Lya. He wore the same sort
of black, formal pants she’d seen on the guards who were dressing, and his
green shirt was pressed and clean, but he wasn’t nearly as well-dressed as the
guards.
She should have left right then and there, she knew, but
something about the way he was standing made her unable to look away from him.
And then, the sound of a tiny gurgling voice made her unable to do anything
except take a few steps inside the room, just to get a closer look.
The young man turned around just then, and Lya scurried to
the opposite corner of the room, taking refuge behind a large, overstuffed
chair, breathing in a cloud of dust as she did. Although the areas near the bed
and the window appeared well-scrubbed and cared for, this other side of the
room looked like it hadn’t been touched by any living person in decades. Crates
and stray furniture were strewn about in massive dust-covered piles. Only a
small path to the hearth had been cleaned and cleared on this end.
The tiny voice cooed again. The young man looked down at a
tiny child nestled against his chest in a cloth wrap that tied securely around
him, absently kissing the tufts of black hair on its head as he did.
“Seriously, Addie? Right now? You had to wait until your mother was in the
bath?” The soft tones in his voice were a stark contrast to the exasperated
words.
Lya shook her head and couldn’t help smiling. Typical.
Teasing that he wanted his wife to do the work instead.
Her stomach ached now, as she remembered Marius holding each
of their babies in exactly the same way, making mutters about things he didn’t
mean at all. This young man didn’t mean it either; he mumbled soft words to the
baby that Lya couldn’t hear as he pulled the child out of its wrappings and
laid it on the bed. He lifted a large cloth bag from the floor and set it next
to the child, pulling a fresh diaper from the inside of it.
His next words, a bit louder, made Lya stand up straight and
edge a bit closer to hear better. “Mia is magic,” he said to the
baby. “But I’m not sure why she thinks diapers belong in my room.”
Magic? There weren’t supposed to be many gatekeepers or
other magic-makers in this part of the world, and yet, this was not the first
time since she’d been here that she’d heard hints of more, beginning with Etta
and Bridget in that cottage.
Also, the diaper comment was strange. Why wouldn’t diapers
belong in the room of an infant and its parents?
“Oh, be quiet,” the man said to the baby, still
teasing and playful, his voice filled with clear adoration. He leaned in close
and kissed each of the baby’s toes. “You might look like your father, but
you have your mother’s mouth already.”
Was he not the child’s father? How strange. Lya took another
step toward them, craning her neck to get a closer look, but all she could see
was a child with tousled brown hair nearly the same color as the man bent so
lovingly over her as he expertly cleaned her up and slipped a fresh new diaper
underneath her. The child was a girl, and for some reason, this made Lya’s
heart ache even more.
The baby stuck out her tongue at the man, making him smile.
Tiny as she was, it was obvious even to a stranger like Lya that the love
between the two of them was mutual.
“That’s the thanks I get for giving you a clean
diaper?” he asked, picking the child up and cuddling her close to his
chest again. “Should we go and find your dress since you’re already out of
your pajamas now?”
The whole thing was so strange. Lya wondered where else the
child’s dress might be. She didn’t know why it might be elsewhere, but she
hoped it was, because that would mean they were leaving and the room would be
empty. She could start by seeing what was in these crates…
Sort-of Spoilery Teaser from Seeker
It was at
this point Owen started to get a bit nervous.
Ellarowan
and Cayloken followed him without question. But then, they had few other
choices. This was his world, as much as it could be, anyway. Everything was new
and unfamiliar to the two of them.
The path
was short, at least from Bray Street to the first sign of the river. Owen heard
it before he could see it. But the whooshing sound of the early summer flow
over the rocks wasn’t the only sound he could hear. There were voices. Happy,
shouting voices. Children playing, somewhere up ahead of him. Adults calling to
them.
The blood
in his veins was several degrees too cold by the time they emerged from the
path near the river.
For a
moment, he was almost convinced they were in the wrong place.
Everything
about the area was unfamiliar. Not just the people scattered about, but the
area itself. The whole shape of it was different: the river a bit narrower and
deeper, the bank built up with concrete and rock where before it had all been
the natural river basin. There were picnic tables scattered everywhere, along
with trash bins and barbecue grates. From where he stood, he could see a new,
modern parking lot, complete with lighting and bathrooms–real bathrooms with
plumbing.
What he
couldn’t see was the bridge.
He knew
where it was supposed to be. And once he accepted that they were, in fact, in
the correct spot, he could even see where it had been. The new construction
along the riverbank hadn’t quite hidden the ancient rock structure that had
once formed the foundation of the bridge. That foundation was there, or a small
part of it was, anyway. The bridge simply wasn’t.
“Why
are we stopping here?” Ellarowan asked. “There are people everywhere.
And I don’t see a bridge.”
“That’s
the problem, isn’t it?” Cayloken said. “Owen, how long did you say it
had been since the last time you were here?”
“Fifteen
years.”
Ellarowan
frowned. “How long is a year?”
Owen took
a deep breath, trying to pay attention to the questions floating in the air
both inside and outside his own mind. “It’s not the same length of time,
at all, but time works differently here. A year is what we call a cycle, sort
of. It’s not as long as it is in your world, but…it’s long enough.”
Cayloken
let out a long, low whistle. “We’re at the gate, aren’t we?”
“Well,
if we were fifteen feet up in the air, we’d be close. That is, if my stones
will for sure open it.”
There was
a sound of approaching footsteps behind them. All three of them moved out of
the way to let the people through–a young man and woman both around Owen’s
age. The man had a toddler strapped to his back, while the woman held the leash
of a large golden retriever.
They both
frowned as they passed Owen, Cayloken, and Ellarowan.
“The
closest campground is a few miles from here,” the man offered helpfully.
“Inside the National Forest. I have a good app for finding all the spots
around here if you’d like?”
“Thanks,”
Owen said, shaking his head. Every part of him was grateful Ellarowan and
Cayloken both still wore their sunglasses, despite the fact that the sun was
now lower in the sky and they didn’t need them for protection from the light.
“We’re good, though. We just hiked down from camping last night. I just
wanted to stop and see what this spot was like now. It’s changed so much.”
“It
has,” the woman agreed, looking a little less nervous after his
explanation. “They’ve done a nice job rebuilding it after all the flood
damage.”
Flood
damage. That was right. Four summers ago, there had been a massive flood here. A
one-hundred-year flood. Most of the homes in Bristlecone had been unaffected,
thanks to the mountain terrain, but the whole of the river basin and the
surrounding roads had been wiped out in massive flash flooding. Owen hadn’t
been in Bristlecone at the time, though he’d kept up with the news
obsessively.
He’d
worried about the house on Bray Street, but he’d never given a second thought
to the bridge. Surely, the ancient bridge had seen other devastating floods.
There was a one-percent chance of a flood like that in any given year. The old
stones should have stood the test of time. But they hadn’t. Whether the bridge
had been taken by the flood itself or the subsequent renovations, it didn’t
much matter. It was gone now.
He needed
to get a closer look, though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t going to change
anything. Ellarowan and Cayloken followed him, neither one saying anything.
Maybe there wasn’t anything to say.
Water,
wind, and time had worked on the old stones, rendering them smoother than the
rest of the stones along the riverbank. Even Cayloken and Ellarowan could tell
these rocks had once been the base of the bridge; Owen saw the understanding as
Cayloken felt along the edges and Ellarowan glanced up into the sky, staring at
the spot where the gate once opened to Eirentheos.
For one
panicked second, Owen feared a new, magical bridge would appear in the spot
where Ellarowan stared, but nothing happened, and she looked back over at Owen.
“Even if I could, I shouldn’t,” she said simply, as if they’d been
talking about it.
Some
things didn’t need to be said aloud, Owen supposed.
August 1, 2018
Hello world!
Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start writing!
