Merrick and Laurent murmured their agreement, and Laurent choked back a groan of delight at the thought of Sparrow cooking. He loved to cook, though he rarely had the time, or a permanent enough place, to cook to his heart’s desire.
Esmeray hummed as she took a sip of coffee. They were silent for a long while, taking in the sights and sounds of the morning. Birds chirped below in the garden, the sun shone warmly down on them, the smell of coffee and flowers filled the air. Sparrow smiled as she watched a few birds land at a feeder. Laurent couldn’t take her eyes off her and reflected on what she told him last night. He understood now why she was so full of life, so in tune with nature–for a long time she’d been cut off from both.
And in the stillness, with the tranquil morning breaking around them, Laurent wondered how many more of these quiet, peaceful moments they would share.
Chapter thirty-seven
Lenna
Thecheerysingingofsongbirds gently roused Lenna from sleep. As she came to her senses, the lilac walls of the bedroom greeted her, the smell of coffee making her realize that the rest of the house was already awake. She swallowed and sighed, her dry throat being the biggest push to get out from under the soft, floral sheets.
Lenna sat up, stretching legs that were still sore from the walking she’d done yesterday through Pyritee Pass. The delicate nightgown hugging her thick curves that Sparrow rustled up seemed too scandalous to trot around the house in, so Lenna crawled out of bed, grabbing a silky robe that hung on the door.
In the washroom, Lenna tried and failed to get her curls under control before giving up. They were frizzy, dry, and completely irritated with her lack of care towards them over the last few days. With a choice word to her hair’s reflection in the mirror, Lenna padded barefoot out of the bedroom, making a beeline towards the beckoning aroma of coffee.
No one was in the whimsical kitchen as she entered, giving her a chance to look around at her leisure and take in Sparrow’s decorating. Bright green cabinets, adorned with mismatched iron and porcelain knobs, covered one side of the kitchen, the otherdisplaying a collection of intricately painted pottery sitting on narrow wooden shelves. The bright colors bounced off pristine, white marble countertops where an array of glass jars held an assortment of spices–but one larger jar contained some sort of swirling silver fog. Lenna peered closer, transfixed, until the undulating wisps seemed to notice her attention. It stopped moving immediately, transforming with a soft, indignantpuff, into a white power that settled at the bottom of the container.
Lenna wondered if that went into any specific food or drink. Part of her wanted to ask Sparrow what it was out of curiosity, but another part seemed hesitant to know.
Lenna’s search for a coffee mug was blissfully quick, since one already sat out by the coffee pot, the brew inside steaming. Pouring a generous amount into her cup, Lenna strained her ears to pick up any sounds that would point her in the direction of where the rest of the group was. A quick peek out the window to the front yard confirmed that Sparrow and her assortment of houseguests were probably on the rooftop patio. With a wince, Lenna moved towards the stairs, already anticipating the burning in her sore legs.
Cresting the last steps, her muscles groaning in protest, she did indeed find the group. Sparrow and Esmeray were reclined back on patio chairs, the latter’s eyes closed, wings draped like a cloak on either side of her. Esmeray had an arm propped behind her horns, her dark hair knotted and askew, making Lenna feel better about her own frazzled curls. Sparrow looked much queenlier than the actual Queen sprawled out beside her. The fae’s golden locks perfectly draped around her shoulders as she sat poised and proper, flipping through a book. And pointedly ignoring the two males that kept shooting glances in her direction.
As Lenna stood awkwardly at the mouth of the stairs, Esmeray cracked open one eye, noted Lenna’s stiff posture, and flippantly waved her tattooed hand. A third chair appeared to Sparrow’s right.
“Sit down and relax for a moment before we get started with the Prism.” Esmeray’s eye closed again and she went back to her sunning. Lenna crossed the patio, appraising the new chair, courtesy, she knew now, of Esmeray’s illusion magic. With a tentative hand she touched the seat, half worried it would ripple and disappear. Finding it sturdy and solid, Lenna gently lowered herself down, gripping her mug a little tighter–just in case. Finding the chair extremely comfortable, Lenna nestled in a little deeper, relaxing enough to raise her coffee to her lips.
Merrick grinned at her from the opposite side of the patio where he and Laurent were engaged in serious conversation, their stern faces an almost comical difference from the two females lazing in the sun. Laurent inclined his head towards Lenna in a half bow. Lenna smiled as she took another sip of coffee.
She couldn’t help herself as her gaze quickly dipped to take in Merrick’s shirtless, chiseled torso. He stretched his arms above his head and flexed, eliciting a soft growl of irritation from Laurent.
Laurent was dressed more casually than Lenna had ever seen, in a loose, short sleeved tunic that revealed his muscular arms where, to Lenna’s surprise, white tattooed swirls decorated both forearms up to his elbows. They were beautiful, making the powerful and handsome fae even more alluring.
Lenna looked from Laurent’s tattoos, to Merrick’s, before her eyes jumped to Sparrow’s blacked out tattoo spanning the length from her fingertips to her elbow, and Esmeray’s fully tattooed hand, the ink slipping up to cup her shoulder–so at odds with the moon-pale skin of theQueen’s other arm.
In Doortan, tattoos were only done sparingly, and rarely ever on women. Seeing the artwork decorating the arms around her, she appreciated the beauty of each individual design.
“What’s with the tattoos?” Lenna inquired, immediately drawing the attention of everyone on the patio. Esmeray fully opened her eyes, blinking and baring her teeth at the sun, Sparrow put her book down, and Merrick and Laurent paused their soft bickering to turn towards her.
“Merrick never told you?” Laurent gave an admonishing look to the gargoyle, a smug expression on his face. Lenna shook her head.
Merrick threw his hands up in exasperation. “Again, do you know howhardit is to explain every facet of our world to someone who has never evenheardof us?”
Lenna mumbled an apology that was quickly waved away by Sparrow, who extended her tattooed arm towards Lenna to inspect. Lenna gingerly took the fae’s hand, marveling at the deep black ink that wrapped around and filled her palm. “The tattoos appear once a being begins their descent into their individual power. It’s ouracat. There’s no exact date or age, but usually around your twentieth year, the tattoos begin to manifest onto your skin. There is a correlation between the tattoos, the powers one receives, and for anyone with fae blood in them, the god or goddess that blessed you.”
“Right.” Laurent picked up where Sparrow was going. “Theacatisalso foreshadow how strong your gifts will be as you age. Even gargoyles, with no magic per se, are given gifts from Alke of strength, agility–”
“Stubbornness,” Esmeray cut in, her light snark aimed towards Merrick, who took the rib in stride.
Merrick looked down at the multiple bands wrapping from his elbow down to the middle of his forearm. “Yeah, I got that band pretty quick.And it’s one of the thicker ones.” He shot Esmeray a wicked grin, sharp canines peeking out of his full lips. The Queen rolled her eyes.
Sparrow interjected, “Like gargoyle horns travel down family lines–most of the time.” She tipped her head towards Esmeray’s curled horns. “A fae’s magic usually travels down lineage as well. Once a god claims a bloodline,typically, the same sort of magic shows up in the children. And if a fae mates with another fae, the offspring gets blessed by one of the parent’s lineage gods. The gods bestow their markings on you, and you receive theacat.”
Esmeray bowed her head, and Lenna wondered if each of them knew the god or goddess that blessed them. “But,” Sparrow continued, her voice softer as she rubbed her tattooed hand against her thigh, “sometimes, a different god takes an interest to a being and claims that individual as their own–with no regard for the family’s lineage god.”
Lenna cocked her head. “So, the more tattoos you have the more powerful you are?”
“For fae, or someone mixed with fae lineage, yes. And some fae have a sort of separate battle magic. You probably noticed Esmeray’s battle magic presents as gold. Mine is blue–the blue flame.” Laurent glanced down at his own arms, before clasping his hands behind his back. “For gargoyles–or gargoyle lineages, the more bands on your arm, the thicker they are, the stronger you and your Sentry are.”
