“Who could say no to that?” I pivot, moving my hair aside so he can fasten the chain around my neck. The coin rests just below the hollow of my throat. “Thank you.”
In response, he kisses me just below my ear. “One day this will all be easier.”
I smooth my hair and check my makeup in the bottom of a silver tray, but like everything else, it’s fine. Seven’s luck has kept every one of my hairs in place.
I replace the tray and turn in his arms. “I’m not sure it will ever be easier exactly.” He frowns, and I continue. “But it will be worth it. I know it will be worth it.”
His usual lopsided grin comes back in full force. “See you tonight.”
ChapterTwo
When I was living in the United States, I read somewhere that children comethroughtheir mothers notfromtheir mothers. The idea the author was trying to convey was that although our children share our genetics and are influenced by how we raise them, they come into the world their own person. Back then I laughed at this notion, chalking it up to silly human religiosity. The idea that some greater power had sent Arden through me, as if I were a portal between worlds, was something I couldn’t take seriously back then. But as I look at my beautiful daughter now with her auburn hair and those emerald eyes that remind me so much of Seven’s, those words return to me and they finally make sense.
I have no idea how she’s going to take the news that Seven is her father. Arden and I have never been apart more than a few days. I know she likes avocado toast for breakfast and her bacon must be extra crispy. I know her favorite book isLittle Women. I know she can’t sleep with her closet door open. Before today, I would have sworn that no one knew her better than me, that I could predict exactly how she would react to almost anything. But not this. She’s no longer my little girl. She’s a woman. A whip-smart, stunningly beautiful young woman.
And I can’t protect her from this. I have no idea what the truth will do to her, only that she deserves to know it.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Arden’s voice is a low whisper. We wave goodbye to my parents as they slip out the door dressed in their date-night clothes. Both of them look great, younger than when I first arrived. I despise the thought that the years I spent raising Arden in the US prematurely aged them, but our current situation seems to be undoing some of the damage.
I clear my throat. “I’ll tell you in a minute.” I haven’t seen Seven since our rendezvous in the banquet closet this afternoon. Afterward, we both went our separate ways. But he said he’d be here by six, which means I need to keep Arden busy for another fifteen minutes.
“Why can’t you tell me now? We’re alone.” She shifts from foot to foot.
“I’m just, uh… We have a guest coming.”
Her brows crowd together. “Oh my god, is it Godmother? Is there something wrong with my passport again?”
I hold up my hands. “No. Nothing like that.”Fuck. That’s not exactly true. It might be like that depending on what she chooses. I don’t want to lie to her, but nothing I say will make sense until she knows everything. Only, I can’t tell her the truth until Seven gets here.
She places both hands on her stomach. “Please just rip the Band-Aid off, Mom. You’re giving me anxiety.”
Should I tell her? Break the ice before Seven arrives? Make her wait? I’m still contemplating my options when a knock comes on the door.
“Hold that thought,” I tell her, then move to answer it.
“I’m early, but I took a chance,” Seven says from the stoop. Of course he did. He’s lucky and he’s been thinking about this all day. I breathe a sigh of relief and invite him in.
“Hi, Seven.” Arden’s gaze darts between us. If anything, she’s even more nervous now. “What are you doing here?”
He gestures toward the dining room. “Sit. We’ll talk.”
“Am I in trouble with Godmother?” Arden blurts. She looks like she might bolt for the door.
It doesn’t surprise me that she might think that—Seven works for Godmother after all. I have to calm her down before she passes out or does something stupid.
“Arden, you’re not in trouble. It’s nothing bad. Just please sit down.” I gesture toward a chair across the table from us.
She sighs heavily but plops herself down, although her expression is nothing short of exasperated.
Seven pulls a coin from his pocket, an ordinary quarter, and slides it across the table toward her. “Has Bailiwick’s ever tested your luck?”
Arden looks at him and snorts. “Um, no. I told them I’m human, so…” She licks her lips. “I’m given accommodations. I don’t need it for lessons.”
Seven taps a finger on the table. “Usually children in Devashire are given a test before they enter grade one. On average, leprechauns are born with more luck than pixies, who are born with more luck than satyrs. But there are exceptions. A few satyrs have tested at the top of the pixie range. More than a few leprechauns have disappointing results and test in the pixie range. Our natural ability to store and wield luck varies greatly by the individual, even among the normal species ranges.”
She nods, her brows bunching as if she’s confused.
I lean my elbows on the table. “The reason they test children is that luck is like a muscle. Use it regularly and your capacity to use it grows. Don’t use it and it atrophies. You’re my daughter, and it’s possible you have more luck than you realize, it’s just you’ve never tried to use it.”
