Playing withair, I made waterspouts dance across the water. The sound from the micro tornadoes filled with water was oddly comforting, though there was nothing peaceful about the raging fury within me. So, I continued to make funnel after funnel.
Logically, I knew it wasn’t Tarrin’s fault that he was beholden Thaddeus’ will. But I could no longer condone the role Tarrin played. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to let go of this anger. This hurt. Hadn’t I told him I’d forgiven him for this twisted connection to Thaddeus? Hadn’t I held grace for him, told him it wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t I the one that insisted we save Tarrin? Where didthatversion of me go?
The air shifted, and I knew someone was about to valen in. Letting the waterspouts drop unceremoniously, the entire lake rippled with the chaotic aftershock from the sudden emergence of water, and I couldn’t help but smile as the birds on the other sidesquawked as the temporary shoreline they’d been hunting disappeared.
“I’m not in the mood, Artton,” I said, without turning around. Quiet footsteps continued toward me, and I whipped my head up. “Are you dea—” The words died on my tongue when I saw Sidrick, and for some reason the sight of him was comforting. Maybe it was because we had no history, no nuance I had to navigate. Or perhaps it was simply that Sidrick had never done wrong by me.
Without saying a word, he sat down on my left, creating a waterspout of his own. A few seconds later, his brother sat down on my right, adding his own waterspout to the mix. I watched them dance together, and the way they moved with each other was like they’d done this countless times before. Their mini lake tornados were smoother than mine, more elegant. They’d combine their funnels, then pull them apart, only to combine them again. This time, the funnel doubled in width. Then the eye ignited in flames, filling the inside with a spinning spiral of deadly fire. It was mesmerizing.
Resurrecting my own water spout, I pulled it until its center doubled in size—mirroring their methods. It was quite wobbly at first and almost collided with their watery inferno, but I managed to level it out. Then, I pulled at the threads I hoped was fire and willed it into the middle. My brow sweat from the concerted effort it took, and I was impressed at how easy they made it look; if not a little envious.
The flames craved the oxygen, which I tried to provide, but they continually wanted to yield to the wind. The fire lasted mere seconds before the waterspout collapsed in on itself, taking theirs with it, and splashing us while creating a large plume of smoke. Sidrick gave a soft chuckle and sent a breeze to keep the smoke at bay.
“Did you know my brother knew you were the spark before anyone else?” Kaelun declared.
“Is that true?” I asked, looking to Sidrick.
“It is. I knew the second I laid eyes on you in the king’s receiving room before Artton and I valenned the three of you to the solstice.”
“How?” I said, astonished.
“My magic. When it’s around you, I feel…”
“Whole,” Kaelun finished for his brother.
Sidrick leaned forward slightly to look at his brother. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ve struggled to find the right word. Butwholedescribes it perfectly. Even more so, now that you’re fae.”
“That’s how I feel when I’m connected to the Mother,” I mused.
“I wonder if you feel that way with the Mother and we feel that way with you because our powers were never supposed to be separate,” Sidrick said.
“Like knowing a recipe is missing an ingredient. It’s still fine, but not like it should be,” Kaelun added.
“So, I’m the missing spice.”
They both chuckled.
“I guess so. Though, the way I’ve seen you strip Uncle Artton down, and now Tarrin, maybe that’s all you and not the spark at all.”
I laughed. “Maybe.”
“Just remind me to stay on your good side,” Sidrick said.
“Well, I suppose if you’re not trying to kill me or my family, or steal my powers or my agency, then you’ll be fine.”
The joke didn’t land like I’d intended, and we all fell silent.
“Why was it so easy to forgive him at the lake?” I found myself asking, knowing they’d witnessed the memory in its entirety.
“Distance. Perspective. Shock,” the third-in-command said. “You were in shock, and Tarrin was your only ally. The brain will do remarkable things to protect us in the moment, but that doesn’t mean it serves us in the long run.”
Shaking my head, I said, “How could Tarrin possibly think everything would be fine?”
“Clearly, he was dropped on his head as a baby,” Kaelun offered. “Humans are very fragile after all.” That got a chuckle out of us.
“I know you’re upset with Tarrin,” Sidrick began, “but do you trust him, Nyleeria?”
I took a moment to mull it over before speaking. “Deep down,yes.” I needed a moment for that truth to settle before I continued. “I believe him when he says he can’t remember what happened. You all saw him—no one would willingly knock on Father Death’s door as some sort of elaborate plan. Besides, I’ve had a recurring nightmare about Thaddeus having Tarrin killed.”
