I feel the weight of her stare and smell the acrid scent of pity. “Does it have anything to do with how you came into debt?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
I purse my lips. I know I don’t have to answer her. There’s only one reason I’ve let this conversation continue as long as it has—because talking about me is clearly keeping Astrid’s emotional state steady. Something I know will eventually crash. She isn’t the first Crimson Malus addict I’ve known. Maybe that sympathy is what frees my tongue.
“Yes.”
Her scent brightens with curiosity. “What happened?”
I lean back and prop my ankle on my knee again. “I was eighteen years old when my father died and left me with a grand inheritance—Davenport Estate. Had I aged like the fae once did before the isle was unified, I would still have been a juvenile cub. But since I aged like a human, I was deemed old enough to bear the responsibilities Father left me with.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Seven years ago.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “That makes you old enough to have been born before the isle was unified. Yet you still aged like a human?”
I nod. “I was only three when the war ended and the wall came down. I believe my den’s close proximity to a human city made me age as quickly as I did. Either that, or the fact that I was so young when the isle was unified.”
“I wasn’t aware that was possible.”
“Neither were my parents,” I say with a halfhearted chuckle. I don’t blame Astrid for being surprised by anything regarding aging in Faerwyvae. Human-fae hybrids, like Astrid, seem to be the only ones whose aging was unaffected by the isle’s unification. As far as anyone knows, part fae have always aged at the same rate humans do, stopping only when they reach maturity. As for the rest of us, there are still many mysteries we’ve yet to unravel.
Back when the isle was split by the wall that separated the humans from the fae, humans aged the same as they did everywhere else in the world, while pureblood fae aged very slowly until they reached maturity, after which they either stopped aging or experienced even slower aging than before. Once the isle was unified twenty-two years ago, humans and fae began affecting one another in strange new ways. Many pureblood fae born after unification aged at a humanlike rate until they reached maturity, while humans experienced a slow in aging, particularly those in close intimate relationships with a fae.
“So, how did you go from being a bear cub living in a den to the heir of a fortune that you somehow lost?”
My heart sinks at the question. I can’t answer it without first telling her something I hate to talk about. I release a slow and heavy exhale. “My mother died when I was six years old.”
Astrid’s scent contracts. “I’m so sorry, Torben.”
I shift in my seat as if that could disperse the uncomfortable weight of her pity. “Yes, well, her death frightened both me and Father equally. Faerwyvae had only been unified for three years at that point, and the isle was still adjusting. New borders were being drawn. Courts that had to be relocated after the wall went down were undergoing changes to climate and terrain.”
“I was only just born at that point,” Astrid says, “so I remember very little about what things were like back then.”
“They were tumultuous times, to say the least, but my parents thought we could avoid anything to do with such post-war changes if we stayed in our same little den. That is, until a human city was built nearby. After that, we regularly encountered unexpected guests in what used to be our peaceful woods. To make matters worse, the land literally changed around us. Before unification, our den had been in the Earthen Court. After the war, the Earthen Court was relocated south, and Spring took over the land we lived on. Eternal spring was fine at first, but it made it difficult when it came time to hibernate. The energy was different. While the Earthen Court held a steady nature that made it easy to settle down and rest, the Spring Court was in a constant state of renewal and rebirth. Life, light, and color. After three years of trying and failing to adapt, we decided to migrate south to where the Earthen Court had moved. But on the way there…”
My throat closes up.
A sudden burst of resentment pierces my heart like a jagged thorn. Why am I even talking about this? Why am I subjecting myself to these memories, these old aches and pains, just to distract Astrid from feeling her own grief? I glance at the woman and find her nearly at the edge of her seat, her hands clasped to her heart.
My resentment softens.
I suppose I can express this next part. For her.
“On the way, Mother stepped into a hidden bear trap. Anironbear trap. It was located in lands that had once belonged to humans before unification. Even after all the efforts to eradicate every last bit of iron on the isle after the war, it was foolish to believe that nothing had been accidentally left behind. By the time Father and I got help, it was too late. Mother succumbed to iron poisoning and died.”
My throat feels tight again, so I clear it with a subtle cough. I shift my gaze to the window and see golden dunes have given way to the pink and green of the Spring Court. I’m not sure whether I feel more anxious or relieved to know we’ll soon be approaching our stop. Part of me wants to get out of this damn conversation, while the other part knows where we go next might be far more difficult to bear than tales of the past. Besides, if I don’t tell Astrid now, she’ll probably ask about it once we arrive at our destination. We’ll be going to the very place our conversation has been orbiting around this entire time.
“What did you do after your mother died?” Astrid asks.
“We returned to our den in the Spring Court, but it wasn’t long before Father decided it might be safer for us to enter society. More than that, I think he wanted to do whatever it took to separate himself from the life he lost—the life we’d shared with my mother. He couldn’t tolerate being in his unseelie form without thinking of her. So we shifted into our seelie forms for the first time and entered the nearest city. Mother’s death had one benefit, although I’m loath to even call it that. Because her death was caused by an illegal metal our fae royals had failed to locate and dispose of, we were financially compensated for our loss. That allowed us to enter society with some wealth. We both quickly learned how to navigate the rules of modern society. Father eventually bought an old manor just outside the city as well as the surrounding farmland. He named it Davenport Estate. After he took a gamble on a few new berry cultivars, our estate began to thrive.”
Astrid’s expression brightens. “Your farm grew berries?”
I allow myself the ghost of a smile. “The best berries. Bright, plump, and famously sweet.”
“Wait! You’re…you’re Davenport Berries! I remember Davenport Berries from when I was little.” Her lips dip into a frown. “It’s starting to make sense why I haven’t seen them around the last few years. I thought it was because I lived in a palace and didn’t go to market anymore.”
I shake my head. “When I gambled everything away, I lost the farms as well. No one has been keeping them up in my stead. I lost the crops once before that too. When Father died, so too did our berry crops. Someone had placed a blight curse on them, most likely a rival who sought to take advantage of Father’s death and the period of vulnerability it left the estate in. I was in no way prepared to run the estate. Even less so when it came to cursed crops and the resulting plummet in finances. However, that’s when I discovered gambling.”
