I chuckled. My father hadn’t punished me a day in his life. He wouldn’t start now. I spun, intending to go to my room, when another thought came to me: a wild memory of when Ariyon had told me I carried magic and asked me to come back to school with him the next day. I didn’t keep things from my father, so I relayed what Ariyon had said.
My father was silent an entire minute before he waved me off. “You having magic? I’m sorry, it’s too much. Get some rest and we can talk about all this tomorrow.”
I sighed in relief. I didn’t really want to get into it now, mostly because I didn’t know what it meant. Shuffling to my room, I didn’t even bother to kick off my shoes. I just face-planted into the bedroll and passed out.
FOUR
I awoke to the smell of cooking meat. My mouth watered and then everything came back to me. My father almost dying, Ariyon sleeping in this house right now. The touch. The touch that didn’t hurt.
Even though my body protested, I sat up quickly and stripped off yesterday’s clothes. Slipping into a short-sleeved, pale-blue blouse and black suede pants, I left my gloves on my bed and ran to the washroom. As I passed the kitchen, I noticed Ariyon was already at the table eating with my father.
“Morning!” my father called.
“Be right out!” I called back.
I quickly brushed my long, black hair and then braided it down over my shoulder. Then I cleaned my teeth, went pee, and used a dab of the sandalwood oil perfume my father got me for Winter Solstice.
I felt stupid dressing up for a boy. I’d tried to have a boyfriend before—sweet Gregory Hitchens—but the no touching thing made the flame die out pretty quickly. But knowing my father’s plan at breakfast to have me touch Ariyon on purpose, I somehow wanted to look appealing. I wanted him to think I was pretty.
Was I touchable? The thought made me giggle. I’d spent my entire life trying to avoid attention and touches, and now I wanted them…from him.
“Feeling better?” I asked Ariyon as I entered the room, gloveless and with my hair down. Both a rarity.
Ariyon’s gaze raked over me slowly, taking in my hair and outfit. “Yes, much better, thank you.”
“Ariyon and I have spoken about his proposal for you to attend The Academy,” my father interjected, and my eyes went wide.
They did?
I thought we weren’t getting into that.
“Roll?” Ariyon asked, holding out a fresh, warm bread roll to me.
We rarely had bread and meat in the same meal. Only on special occasions.
My father must have used all the flour we had left for this opulent breakfast, and it warmed my heart. It was the only thing we had with which to thank Ariyon. I looked at my dad for encouragement and he nodded.
Reaching for the roll that Ariyon held, I couldn’t help but tense up as our bare fingers touched.
But nothing happened, nothing bad anyway. Just a cool brushing of his fingers on mine as I took the roll. “Thanks.” I tried to keep the emotion off my face. I looked at my dad, and he was wiping away tears with the back of his hand.
He saw.
Ariyon was, luckily, too focused on his breakfast to notice how odd we were acting. “I sent word this morning to my healing master teacher in the city that I was okay and would return this afternoon with one Fallon Brookshire, a remarkably magical fae who’s been hiding out in Isariah,” he said to us with a smile.
Wow, he knew my full name? He and my father must have been awake for a while.
Dad was smiling at Ariyon. “You really can smell magic?” he asked.
Ariyon nodded. “And infection, and pregnancy, and a hundred other things.”
My father offered his wrist for a sniff, and Ariyon chuckled. “Reminds me of a pasttime I used to play with my brother as a child. He hated when I ranked him by magical potency, but he also couldn’t resist knowing if he was more powerful than me.”
“Is he?” I asked.
“No.” Ariyon smirked as if this made him proud.
Reaching out, he grasped my father’s wrist and pulled it to his nose, inhaling. Then he frowned. “Not even a drop. How odd. I’ve never smelled that before.”
