Copper Ravens(7)

I scrubbed my face with my hands; this trip down memory lane wasn’t going to accomplish much, other than feed my misguided nostalgia for the less fine things in life. Searching for a distraction, I left my rooms and prowled the manor’s silver hallways. Eventually, I found Sadie on the second level, standing alongside a heap of scrolls and books while she attempted to explain to Shep the basic concept of a library; I don’t think it ever occurred to her that the silverkin don’t read and therefore have little use for books.

Come to think of it, I wondered if they could read. They didn’t technically have eyes, and they were constantly bumping into things, but something was helping them navigate. Sonar? I made a mental note to ask Micah, and a second mental note to ask Sadie if she’d like to teach remedial reading to a bunch of metal critters. A class full of silverkin would sure keep her occupied.

Not wanting to get involved in any library-related hubbub, I continued down the hall to the large windows that looked out over the gardens. I saw Mom in her usual spot, meditating yet again; at this rate, she was on track to become an honorary Buddhist.

Really, I understood why Mom was behaving the way she was. It had been obvious how much she and Dad loved each other, even to us kids. Once, I’d tried imagining what I’d do if Micah disappeared, and the mere imagining was terrible.

“You went into hiding?” I’d asked her, back when she was still working locator spells. Luckily, Mom had been in the rare mood to share some of her history. It seemed that she had made quite a few enemies while she was queen of Connacht, back in her mortal days, and a fair few during her later days as the queen of the Seelie Court. “And that was how you ended up in Fairy?”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “My mortal enemies grew to be more than my court could handle, so I retreated to a brugh.” A brugh, I then learned, was a fairy hill. A single night’s revelry under the hill could be as short as a day, or as long as a century in the Mundane realm’s timekeeping.

Mom didn’t just party there. She became their queen.

“Drink enough of their wine, and one’s mortality burns away,” she had explained. “Then the prior Seelie Queen, Eleanore, was killed, and I took up the throne.” I’d learned long ago that when Mom uttered innocent-sounding phrases such as “took up the throne,” she actually meant something along the lines of “I fought a long and bloody battle and killed all who opposed me.” My mom’s badass that way.

“So when did you decide to leave?” asked Sadie, who had literally been on the edge of her seat. Not that I blamed her, since a story about Mom’s past was a rare treat indeed.

“I never decided, not one way or the other. Beau did that for me.” Mom smiled, gazing at a far-off memory. “He’d managed to infiltrate his way into the brugh, all yells and kicks. He was a scrappy boy, Beau was.” Sadie and I had laughed at that; around us, at least, Dad was anything but scrappy. “Once my guard captured him, he was dragged before my throne, this impertinent mortal with the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.”

“Love at first sight!” Sadie squealed.

“More like love after his next bath,” Mom said. “After a few days of having your dear father around, I realized that my court’s magic would eventually overpower Beau’s, leaving him more fey than Elemental. I couldn’t let him lose his identity, so we slipped away.”

“And your court never looked for you?” I asked. If Micah went missing, I had no doubt that all those of metal would overturn every rock and twig in the Otherworld in order to find him. Shep would follow, straightening things up in their wake.

“I imagine they were too busy naming my successor,” Mom replied, in that way of hers that meant something a bit more involved had happened.

“You gave up being a queen for Dad?” Sadie asked, a bit awed.

“Oh, it wasn’t such a sacrifice,” Mom said. “I left behind a lonely life as a monarch for a husband and three wonderful babes. I’d make the same choice again a thousand times over, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Even though he’s gone now?” I ventured.

“Aye,” Mom murmured, tucking a length of hair behind my ear. “Even so.”

As I remembered that short discussion, I wondered if I should go down to the gardens and try to talk with her. I mean, all of this moping disguised as meditating was getting us nowhere. In the midst of my internal debate, Max emerged from his room.

“Hey,” I greeted. All I got was a grunt in reply. “What’s up?”