“When my apprenticeship is over in a couple months, you should come with me to Monstera Bluff. You wouldn’t have to lay low. There are so many Whispered Folk that your presence wouldn’t make waves. No one would look at you twice unless it’s because you’re so hot,” she proposes. She bites her lips nervously as she waits for my response.
“You want me to come with you? That sounds serious,” I say in a light tone. “What will you call me when you introduce me to everyone?”
“I’ll call you my yeti of the night,” she quips.
“I would prefer if you called me your mate,” I say affectionately, honestly.
“Really? Oh, Norrell. I love you. I was hoping…” Her words are cut off as she throws herself on top of me, kissing me deliriously.
My anticipation of seeing my mate makes the drive down this long road into town seem never-ending. My thoughts turn to those happy early days. At the academy and at our apartment when we first moved here. Though life became heavy after Ada’s parents passed, we still loved each other fiercely. That was the last time I felt any real happiness. It makes me wonder if I ever will again.
When a sudden bout of restlessness has me fidgeting in my seat, the van finally turns into the circle drive in front of Ada’shouse. She had only just inherited it and moved back in when I left. It looks largely the same, aside from the missing carriage house, mayhap more overgrown now. But knowing her, it is purposeful, her small rebellion against expectations. Plus, she has always liked things a little untamed.
I pull my duffel bag from the back of the van. It drives off as I stand on the sidewalk, leaving me alone to gather myself before I go inside. Walking up to the front porch feels surprisingly familiar, even though my feet have not stepped there in fifteen long years. This should have been my home. With Ada. A different life. And certainly a happier one. This thought does nothing to calm my nerves.
The rap of my knuckles on the door sounds too abrupt, but I cannot take it back now. With any luck, she will be on the other side of that door. I will witness her candid reaction to me. Maybe there will be a spark between us still. But that is wishful thinking. She would be better off if she moved on, found someone else who had the courage to stay. Part of me hopes she has.
After some time has passed, I knock again, softer this time. The footsteps inside sound halting, unsure. They must be Ada’s. I readily admit I blindsided her, forcing her hand by accepting her invitation. By the bluest glacier, I do not regret it. I would hate myself even more if I passed up this opportunity.
The steps in the foyer pause at the door. She may be just as nervous and hopeful for this reunion. No, it is too one-sided for that. This intrusion. I have longed for this for so long. And now she stands nearly within reach. She will be so exquisitely beautiful it will hurt. It already does.
When the door finally creaks open, loud in the quiet night, her presence nearly staggers me. It is nourishment for my withered spirit. She stands rooted to the spot, unmoving, except for her large violet eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief. Long, dark,garnet red hair with streaks of white in the front falls over her shoulders as vibrant as ever. Pale, opalescent skin glows in the light of the chandelier hanging high above. She looks exactly as I remember. Like my memories have been recorded and broadcast to this very moment.
Only her dazzling signature of magick is missing, replaced by the stain of a complex fae spell, its threads woven deeply through her chest. It concerns me, buried so deep inside her, pulsing strange and powerful. I do not trust I could disrupt that spell without causing her further damage. I try not to let this unfortunate discovery show on my face.
Being in her presence again is like experiencing the first glimpse of sunlight after polar night. She still shines more brightly than most, but there is an undercurrent of pain in her bearing that is partly my doing. The reality of my decisions crashes over me. What she meant to me then and still does now. Who I chose my clan over and regretted it every day since.
Long seconds pass as we stare at each other. “Norrell, it’s been a while. Why don’t you come in,” she drawls, spoken in her slow and lilting song, a sweet soothing melody. The lullaby that I hear as I fall asleep and the same one that croons me in my dreams.
Even now, when she is so clearly unhappy with me, it is all I want to hear. No doubt she is composing a symphony of curses against me in that incredible brain of hers. I would welcome it coming from her winsome lips with her talent for infusing meaning in the most innocent and innocuous words in colorful and pleasing ways. Life has been washed out without it.
When she abruptly marches away after a chilly message about dinner, it leaves me some time to myself in her grand manor home again—her family legacy. I could navigate this place blindfolded. It throws in my face the irony that I chidedmy infuriating cousin for being shortsighted, yet I am by far the guiltiest of it.
I knew I could not take her away from this place. She belongs here, with a life full of beauty and magick, but I should have figured out how to make it work even when my hand felt forced. No matter, I did not stand up for us or for her like a mate should. I was an impressionable coward, doing exactly as the clan had trained me as a good little soldier, the best actually. It left me an incomplete male in return.
Chapter 6
Norrell
Only birdsong and the whisper of trees in the breeze hang in the air in this early hour. Ada needs space from me after I pushed too hard at dinner, so I will give it to her this morning. Her message to me last night was clear.
I know the way to town hall from her house, but there is ample time to wander and reacquaint myself with this treasured place. The low morning sun puts a soft filter on her tree-canopied street, where most of the largest and oldest houses in town are situated. I wonder if the same neighbors live here. Some that I was well-acquainted with, a gregarious family of barghests who run the local inn, lived down the block. They talked me into helping them fix their fence after a large fallen branch collapsed a section of it. They were worried their dog would get loose. I always thought it was funny that these barghests, who were big black canine beasts in their shifted forms, had their own dog—a small yappy one at that.
The fence needed mending on a weekend that Ada wanted to go kayaking through the tidal rivers. But they needed my help and at the time it felt like a neighborly thing to do. I am unsure exactly why I agreed. Maybe I was trying to prove myself in this community. No matter, I see it differently now. Someone elsecould have stepped in to help. My plans with Ada were more important.
My entire walk is filled with similar memories. A beach weekend pushed off to help with an art show. Digging out a garden plot for a different neighbor when I promised to help Ada with holiday preparations. Showing up to our anniversary dinner late after covering an extra shift at the hardware store. The list is long for having lived here only two years. As my mate, I should have put her needs first. Not that mates do not help others, of course they do. But I was often in service to the community at her expense, even when none of these situations were urgent. Fire of the frost, I was old enough that I should have known better, but I was not wise enough to recognize the pattern.
The hurt shone in her eyes each time I let her down, yet I kept doing it. I treated this town like my new clan because I did not realize there was another way. In my settlement, service is critical to our survival. Our individual wants are secondary to the clan’s needs. That dire dichotomy does not exist here in the same way. But I was still too sheltered to see that in those days. I put her through so much, and then I left to lead my clan without her, my final and worst transgression. I long ago came to terms with the fact that my supposed selflessness was a continual act of selfishness for which Ada always paid the price.
Strolling down the sleepy streets, I realize I have missed the trees, towering and majestic, providing plentiful shade over much of the town. Bright flowers bloom continually, painting the scenery in bright pinks and purples. The endless greenery is not even entirely magickal. There is no real winter here, and the days swelter in the summer. It was a shock at first, but not entirely unpleasant. The “Be Cool” charm from Ada’s shop kept me from overheating.
The nature surrounding the town is rugged and untamed compared to its pristine and beautified streets. Pine forests, salt marshes, coastal features like natural beaches and long inlet rivers that flow into the ocean. So much wildlife. Now when I traverse the vast ice fields and rocky, mountainous terrain, bare of most vegetation in the far north, it seems desolate in a way it never had before coming here. My people stay above the northern tree line for a reason. Malefic Folk are not attracted to beauty in the way that Whispered Folk are. It would be like expecting a shark to admire the vibrant hues of the coral reef it swims around.
This town offers more to its residents than I could imagine. It speaks to the strength of the community and its diversity of Whispered Folk. The small cinema, grocery store, restaurants and cafes, more shops than I could dream of. I learned a new way of living here, less focused on survival and more on enjoyment. It marked the longest time I spent away from my clan and the most pivotal. Including my time at the witches’ academy, it was only three short years out of my long forty-seven.
In the North Clan settlement, our amenities are limited living in a vast underground network of caverns in northern Canada. It functions like a town with homes, shops, and restaurants, but with very little variety. More functional than whimsical, out of necessity. We are much smaller too, only two thousand to Monstera Bluff’s twelve. We have satellite internet and phone communications, of course. Like most Whispered Folk communities, over the years we developed means, often magickal, to move through the human world when needed, earning their currency through passive means, and buying their goods and services as necessary. But the glaring reality of what our settlement lacks rings anew now that I am back here.
Although today’s safety council meetings will certainly have food and drink, I enter Pearlhouse Pastries, one of Ada’s favorite spots. I do not recognize any of the employees behind the counter. They look rather young and were probably children when I lived here. Who would guess the family of tarasque would be such prolific bakers with their paw-like hands and leonine sensibilities. They do not wield magick, but their creations could be mistaken for it. I got to know them when I lived here. I remember them fondly and miss their friendship.
