Lost Magic (The Swift Codex Book 3) (20 page)

“So particular.”

“Magic is that, and fey magic is the worst of the lot,” Lyall answered.

“So what is the Wildwoods' interest in her?”

“I come as a reserve.”

“A reserve?” I repeated, feeling dumb, feeling so tired that I would be ready to tear limb from limb the next person who kept me from rest. “What is that?”

“The woods is concerned that you have accepted guardianship of a child while you are as-yet unmated.”

Not this talk. Not now. I'd just managed to keep from this discussion with my parents. “I'm not alone.”

“Yes, the fire drake has declared that he wants to share guardianship with you, I know. That says a great deal for his character, but the fact remains that being 'engaged' is not the same as being mated. And this child is not of your flesh and bone.”

“Does that matter?”

“It does to some.” Lyall stood and straightened out his clothes. “I'm not proposing to you. I'm not here to start a relationship which is different from what we already have. What I am saying is that if you need my help, if you need help at all, you can come to me and I will do my best to provide for that need. It is the least we can do, after all that you have done for us in the Wildwoods. And for all you are still doing. Remember my words. Anything at all, just ask.”

All the kindness I was experiencing had me on the verge of tears, but I didn't want to cry. Not trusting my voice, I just nodded.

Lyall reached to a pin on his vest, took it off, and asked, “May I?”

I didn't know what he wanted to do, but gave my permission anyway.

He knelt and fastened the pin to the baby's bassinet. What was it? I leaned in close, and saw that it was a single, perfect white honeysuckle which smelled like my magic.

“Thank you, Lyall, I—”

But I stopped. Lyall was gone, more completely than a ghost, as if he had never been here.

I was thanking thin air.

Anna woke me in the dead of the night with a soft whimper I thought I might have imagined. The bed dimpled in the center, causing me to roll against Mordon's chest whether I wanted to cuddle or not. For a minute I thought I might drift back to sleep. Another noise from the bassinet urged me up.

She needed changing. This one promised to be particularly rank. I took her out of the bedroom and to the living room, where we'd forgotten the diaper bag before collapsing into bed. Once she was taken care-of, her eyes drifted shut then snapped open again. I swayed her in my arms, humming softly, feeling bittersweet. This was what I'd expected to happen years ago. Memories surfaced, drawn out by the excitement of the day and the long restless nights.

“You knew!” I remembered being solidly shocked and downright furious with him. Two weeks after I peed on a stick and got a blood test to confirm, Sam had told me that he knew the condom broke. “Why didn't you tell me? I would have done something.”

He shrugged. “It wouldn't have made a difference.”

My jaw dropped. Fury made my heart pound. I told myself it wouldn't be good to stress myself out, not now that I took my health very seriously. “Yes, it would have. If you would have told me, I would have given my doctor a call and we wouldn't be in this position.”

He'd been so cock-sure, lounging on the bench he'd made for me, feet stacked up on the log. We were outside, basking in the garden we'd just weeded. We'd been talking about the cherry tomato plant and how to trim back its bushiness. I'd made some wise-ass joke about the tomato being as prolific as we were. That's when he told me that he'd suspected I might be pregnant and that was why he told me to see if it checked out.

He asked, “What position, honey?”

I pointed at my boobs. They were what was truly swollen. One of them in particular. The rest of me just felt tired, sick, and miserable. My belly was rather flat, owing to my diet of salty crackers and raw zucchini. Everything else smelled rank and terrible.

“It was a matter of time, doll, that's all. Better sooner than later,” he said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes. Whatever it is, yes.”

“I didn't put one on if I could get away with it.”

At first I didn't understand. Then I didn't believe him.

When I did, I was so speechless that my ears popped.

“You wanted this.”

“You always knew I was a family man.”

I felt like a fish trying to breathe out of water. “Yeah. But family men get married first.”

He smirked. I hated that expression on him. It was as if he'd set out a trap and was delighted to have caught me in it the way he knew he would. “We'll be married now.”

“I guess, we...”

“You were the one who asked. I said yes.”

My world turned upside down again. “I mean, it's the right thing to do. But I didn't know you'd lied to me.”

“I didn't lie to you. I speeded things up a little bit. We would have gotten married in the next year or two.”

“No. We...” I shook my head, suddenly realizing everything, mortified by my own naivety. “You knew I was going to break up with you!”

“You'd hinted at the possibility. I got tired of begging and the price of shrimp and chardonnay was getting obnoxious.”

I wouldn't have called what he did grovelling. More like groaning followed by a period of time where he would do everything I wanted so I didn't have a reason to break it off again. The desire for company had gotten to my head every time I told him I meant it this time. I'd been growing more certain that we were wrong for each other. He had to have picked up on that and decided to corral me into a permanent arrangement.

“I don't know if I want to be married to you now.”

“Why, because I lied?”

“Yes. That was wrong on so many levels. Especially one that changes my life like this.”

He tipped his head, not in the least bothered by my words. “If you felt so strongly, why weren't you on a pill?”

“Because, money. The appointment alone is pricey, and the added cost of a prescription...” That, and we weren't so frequently together that I thought the cost was justified. “I told you this.”

“Yes, you did. And yet you would have paid for an emergency visit?”

“Yeah,” I said, speaking slowly so he understood, “the cost of a visit is a whole lot less than the cost of
this
.” I jabbed a finger at my stomach.

He popped open a beer. “And how do you plan to pay for it if you don't marry me?”

Cold dread went through me. He had a point. I barely fed myself, booming client list or not. My housing was the only one I could afford, located an expensive commute away from the nearest jobs. The whole area was in economic depression anyways, with people far more qualified than me recently laid off work. As I had not worked two years full-time at the same employer, I was disqualified from all social safety nets such as unemployment checks. The state I lived in even made abortions illegal last session. Not that I considered it an option, though. I was every ounce in love with this baby that I wasn't smitten with its father.

If I didn't marry him I'd be forced to turn to my parents, who would find out about this child one way or another eventually. I doubted they'd hand out money. They might offer to let me live with them, but every second along the way they'd be harassing me to marry the father. And he would be sure to play the charming, sweet man he was when he knocked me up, so my refusal would be written off as irrational.

I phrased my dilemma very elegantly with, “I need to go piss. Don't think this is over.”

“Trust me, honey, it's already done.”

I'd have cursed him if I could have. But back then I was still cursed myself, rendered magicless. I went to the bathroom, feeling very much like a pregnant lady with a growing body pressing against my bladder.

That's when I found out.

I remember panicking. Telling him we needed to go to the emergency room. Now.

He was confused.

I was bleeding.

A lot.

He'd hurried for his truck, truly frightened. By the time we were on the highway, I was in little short of hysterics.

Mordon stirred in the bedroom, groggily wandered into the kitchen, and started to heat water for some brew. He came to where I was watching the sun rise over the sleepy canyon bottom with its stirring sheep and farmers. He slid his arm around my belly. “Morning, beautiful momma.”

He couldn't have struck me in a more sensitive place if he'd tried.

“Don't call me that.”

Mordon's arm tensed. I'd never used that tone on him.

I hated the belly touch. Almost as much as I hated that Anna liked to be held against the breast which had grown before the other one had a chance to match it. My fragile grasp on control splintered. “Let me go.”

He did.

I was aware that he watched as I switched Anna from one side to the other, causing a muffled murmur of complaint. Ultimately she didn't cry, just required some back strokes in compensation. She wasn't asleep but she was content.

Mordon approached, quietly but confidently. He laid a hand on my shoulder. I recoiled from the touch, wanting nothing more than to be left alone until I could lock down all the things Anna's presence had made me feel.

The injustice of the situation burned. I'd been so determined to care for the last one. I'd been willing to sacrifice everything for it, I'd been busy making plans for how the rest of my life would unfold in this new direction. When the last one had died within me, I'd adjusted again to being the mother of a dead child. One that no one else knew about, or would even consider a child to begin with. To the world, I was not a mother. I'd never had a child. The doctors themselves barely considered me pregnant, and reminded me that
at least I wasn't far along
.

So I'd taken on that stance, too. Decided that if no one else thought it had really happened, there was no reason for me to be plagued with the knowledge, too.

Mordon may tease and it may be fun, but now that I was faced with the reality of the situation, I felt disgusting. As if he were withholding out of a secret thought that I wasn't enough the way Sam had withheld after the
incident
.

Also threatening was that Mordon held the ability to take Anna away if we were to break up. Any court would pass the child off to the person with financial stability and a solid family life.

I felt so ruined and so used, like I hadn't accomplished anything over the years. Failure to fly the nest. Another person who'd died due to me.

“Fera, what is wrong?”

I didn't want to look at him. Not even when he put one hand on each shoulder and rotated me to face him. Stiffly, I turned my head and blinked hard.

The sun was peering over the lip of the canyon now, too bright to continue staring at. I gazed at the frame holding the big windows in instead, and was reminded of that fateful night when I'd let Railey into my bedroom. My lip quivered.

Mordon said, “I can wait a very long time, and your arms are going to get tired sooner or later.”

I realized he wasn't going to go away. Not until I said something. I cleared my throat. “I really don't want to talk about it.”

“I know. I have not seen an emotional shutdown like this from you before.”