“My father. He did not want to lower himself to attend, so he sends a venerable prince in his stead.” He huffs a hollow laugh, flashing his bright golden serpentine eyes in my direction. “I am here strictly to observe and report back, using as much eloquent evasion as necessary. He forbade me from making any promises that would bind him to this community, but he wants me to do so in a way that upholds his reputation as the dragonkin ruler. Thus, I will stay in the back and let the size of this crowd work in my favor.”
I chuckle, understanding the difficulty of that mandate. “It seems our roles are in reverse. I lead the North Clan and I attend against their wishes. They will be assisting as I see fit.”
“Bold move to go against the ways of your clan. I am impressed. You may have a struggle on your hands when you return,” he observes.
“I welcome it,” I respond, my eyebrow raised in challenge. “At least your father was courteous enough to send someone. Most of my people would not care how this community suffers. They likely believe it is what magick wielders deserve.”
His jaw drops open. “Ashes. I thought we were cold-blooded...” If only my people knew their disregard could shock a dragonkin. He shakes his head incredulously before turning his attention back to the room.
After several minutes, his impatient body language betrays his boredom. “I have never seen such a hodgepodge collection of Whispered Folk in one place before,” he mumbles.
A knowing smile crosses my face. “I lived here for a time and I agree this is… a lot. The nocturnals are not even here. I heard they will be briefed tonight and shown the recordings of today’s proceedings. For the rest of the week these meetings will be shifted around so everyone can attend.”
He sighs loudly. “I should have claimed a sunlight allergy.”
Ada appears well after the tables were reconfigured, none the wiser to their original arrangement. She spots the centaur, Clancy, and joins him and Madge. Madge pulls her into a tight embrace, fiercely whispering into her ear and then patting her cheek lovingly. Ada responds with a watery smile. As long as they are warm to her, it makes no difference how cold they are to me.
Niven joins them momentarily, then motions for Ada to come with him. He speaks with her the entire time, their faces close, as he leads her to a chair at the tables, now arranged in an oval. Her seat is still a focal point, but it is flanked on both sides by other chairs. When she sits, he points to the pink bag. Taking out the box within it, she opens it on the table. Her eyes widen and then scan the room suspiciously. Finally noticing me, her face pinches, but she leaves the open box in front of her. Someone, probably a witch, brings her a cup of coffee along with a notebook, pen, and box of tissues.
“Everyone, get your breakfast now and then head to your seat. We’ll begin momentarily,” announces another witch standing next to Niven. He leads this investigation, so I hope he will ensure everyone is respectful toward Ada. But if anyone starts pestering her for answers she cannot give, and Niven does not step in quickly enough, I will not hold my tongue.
Despite Ada realizing I was behind the croissants, she takes one out and starts eating it with a distracted look on her face. Nearly fifty have crowded in already. Several others approach Ada, including the rest of her house guests, offering her encouragement. Hopefully, the pastries along with her friends’ support will provide some comfort this morning.
Niven takes his seat across the oval from her and begins the proceedings. After thorough questions about her observations of three fugitive warlocks’ actions while on town council, one of Niven’s assistants prompts her to recount her interaction withthe fae. It takes her a moment to collect herself. She presses a tissue to her face, her eyes unfocused like she is stuck in the memory.
She describes the incorporeal vaporous creature, how it seemingly spoke through magickal means. It cast powerful, sophisticated spells she was completely unfamiliar with, something I could have told them from my own encounters. Ada’s testimony becomes even more riveting when she mentions the ward shared its knowledge with her while also slinging its own spells through the representations of her family. The interviewer asks her to describe the experience in greater detail.
“In the moment, I knew ways to try to attack the fae or to counter incoming spells,” she attempts to explain, sounding dissatisfied. “The ward didn’t speak to me, per se. It isn’t cognizant like that, as far as I know. I also couldn’t understand the… figures… behind me. But an instinct emerged in me. My magick became both a shield and a weapon. There was clarity in those spells that I shouldn’t have had. But everything was happening so fast, I didn’t have time to question it.”
“Has the ward ever been activated to that extent before?” the interviewer continues.
Ada pauses, tilting her head. “No, I don’t think so. But this ward is old, maintained since the founding of the town. I’m not aware of any incident in town history like this. There aren’t any family stories about it either.”
“Have you retained that awareness?” she follows up.
Ada subtly shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “No, when I woke up at the healers clinic it was already gone. I wouldn’t be able to replicate half the spells I cast. I barely even recall them.”
The interviewer writes a quick note, and then continues, “Did that awareness seem invasive? Like it had another aim?”
“It kept me alive, didn’t it?” Ada bristles. “But it couldn’t outsmart the fae. When one of my spells managed to inflictdamage, the fae changed strategy just as quickly. It was so powerful, so seamless in its spellcasting. My magick reserves were already running low after the Samhaim rituals earlier. I couldn’t find a way at the time to subdue it on my own.”
“Tell us about when the fae made physical contact with you.” The interviewer fixates on Ada’s response in a way I do not appreciate.
“The pain convinced me it stabbed a hole in my chest. I had no idea it damaged my magick. It just…felt like… dying. And I thought maybe I’d finally be with my parents again.” Ada’s voice fizzles.
I struggle to breathe as she answers each question, detailing how that revolting excuse of a creature harmed her. It will not leave this town alive.
“Did the fae also attack the ward?” the interviewer presses.
“I’m not sure, but it mostly seemed focused on trying to hurt me. One moment, the fae was gloating about killing the last Mayweather in Monstera Bluff, like it knew about me and my family. The next, we were both caught off guard when the figures appeared behind me. The ward brought my mom and dad back to protect me,” she rasps, her voice cracking at the mention of Estelle and Whitt, her parents. She wipes at her tear-streaked face before she continues. “More of my family was there too. My grandparents, great grandparents, everyone whose magick built the ward. They saved my life.”
Her grief is palpable as she weeps into her tissue, unable to resume for the time being. Her parents were kind and loving, exactly like her. They would have done anything to save her, even from the next realm. I knew this would affect her deeply, dredging up the sharp pain of their loss that she obviously still feels so keenly. Watching her now, overcome with sorrow, breaks something inside of me. I feel as low as that fae.
Seventeen Years Ago
“Do you want to go first?” Ada asks, bouncing on her heels, as we stand in front of the travel portal at the academy. Before our eyes, the dark portal stirs to life with milky white swirls that make me uneasy.
“Mayhap you should since your parents will be waiting,” I answer carefully.
