“Griffin?” I whisper.
He smiles, warm and welcoming, loving, and my heart expands ten sizes in my chest. But then his eyes shift to follow a dark-haired boy who suddenly comes into view. He prances in front of Griffin, a hobbyhorse between his gangly legs and a wooden sword in his small hand.
The lump of emotion clogging my throat turns into something that starts to strangle me. That child is Griffin’s. There’s no way that he’s not.
The hobbyhorse’s head is made entirely of deftly woven hellipses grass. The long mane bounces and rustles as the boy makes battle sounds, waving his toy sword and preparing to charge.
A young girl springs into the scene from the side and jumps in front of Griffin, as if to protect him from an enemy. Griffin chuckles and encourages her as she deflects the boy’s first blow with her own small sword.
In shock, I stumble back from the vision. The boy looks to be about seven years old and the girl a little younger than that. Her wild, wavy locks are a striking red.
I can’t breathe. And I can’t look away, even though my breaking heart is screaming at me to run from this.
She’s a fierce little thing, and her second thrust with her wooden sword is a ferocious enough jab to put the boy on his guard in earnest. He jumps off the pretend horse, flings the toy aside, and then they both switch to more balanced stances. Laughing and goading each other under Griffin’s watchful gaze, the children bang out a mock battle with fluid moves and actual skill. It’s a fighting dance of play and trust.
I slam my eyes shut. When I open them again, the scene is still there. Utterly crushing. Entirely real.
Footsteps. A woman’s lilting laugh. Sickness heaves through me, shooting acid up my throat. I know what I’ll see next.
Knowing still doesn’t prepare me for the swift and brutal kick in the gut when Bellanca strides into view, and Griffin’s eyes light on her with all the passion, possession, and protection I only ever thought he’d bestow on me. Smiling, she drops into Griffin’s lap like she has every right to be there, and his arms come around her waist like it’s the most natural thing he could do.
My mouth goes as dry as salt. This can’t be happening.
Except it already has. If the boy with the carefully handmade hobbyhorse is anything to judge by, it happened about eight years ago.
My vision wavers, darkening. There’s no air, only a grinding weight on my chest. It presses down, crumbling my heart into dust.
Bellanca leans into Griffin, and he nuzzles her fiery curls. The same satisfied, warmth-filled smile plays around both of their mouths as they watch the children play.Theirchildren.
I try to swallow, but there’s nothing to wash down my grief. There’s not even a scream to drive it out, although I feel it building, silently flaying the inside of my throat.
I didn’t come back. I hid from pain and stopped searching for my magic, and while Perses kept throwing me over the cliff and I found nothing to stop him, Griffin and Bellanca found each other. Found love. Griffin would have given me time, waited for me, searched for me. Iknowthat. But then… There’s always a point when people move on.
Scalding tears track down my cheeks. This is my fault.
A new nightmare crops up in the form of a third child who wanders into view. Another girl. She nestles into her mother’s skirts, and Bellanca settles her hand on the girl’s small head. Bellanca’s free fingers start drawing affectionate, lazy strokes on the back of Griffin’s neck, and my heart lurches in protest.
Bellanca is older as well, and no longer the sharp-edged, tight-strung, wild-looking woman I knew. Maturity and maternity have softened her, and her rounded hip is the perfect fit for Griffin’s large palm. Her low-cut gown and full breasts draw his attention, and the barely banked heat I recognize in his roving gaze hollows me out inside.
They both look up, distracted at the same time by something new. Bellanca frees her hands only to have them filled back up again with the warm, wiggling weight of a baby.
The part of me that was still trying to somehow deal with this shuts down completely. The nurse backs away, leaving the small bundle in Bellanca’s arms. The newcomer is delicate-boned, dark-haired, and clearly another girl, bearing a striking resemblance to what Kaia must have looked like at four or five months old. Bright-blue eyes lock onto her father’s face, and the baby girl looks at Griffin like he’s the center of her whole world.
Griffin’s mouth splits into a wide grin, and he tickles her tummy, making the infant giggle. Then he lifts the little girl still standing by the chair onto the knee Bellanca and the baby aren’t occupying and adjusts his embrace to cradle them all.
The already gray world around me darkens to near-black. A sob rips the air from my lungs, and I turn away, choking and trying not to lose my mind as my entire future shatters before me. I fall to my knees and then pitch forward onto all fours, my violent sobs turning into retching. Nothing comes out of me.And why would it?There are years of emptiness in my stomach. Hunger I didn’t feel. Days I never spent.
I heave. I heave, and I can’t breathe.
“You know what to do.” Perses cuts through my heartsickness with flat detachment. “Crack the sky with lightning. Fly through the fracture. Take him back.”
Light-headed, I shake all over. “They’re a family.”
“You were a family.”
“Were!” I hurl the word at him, my stomach still trying to turn itself inside out.
“Do you give up so easily? That’s not what I heard. But then, you’ve disappointed me completely so far.”
