Fragile Eternity

Chapter 32

As Seth stepped through the moonlit veil, the world around him changed. It wasn’t as simple as going from the peace and perfection of his mother’s side to the harsh and jarring mortal world. In that single step, he was changed. The bargain he’d made was manifest. Seth was not mortal on this side of the veil: he was fey.

The world shifted under his feet. He felt it, the thrum of life that burrowed and nested in the soil. Wings from a far-off egret sent gusts of air that swirled into the currents in the sky.

Sorcha took his hand in hers. “It’s strange at first. I’ve watched the mortals in the Summer Court change. Let the difference find its place inside you.”

He couldn’t speak. His senses—and not just the same five he’d had before—were flooded. As a mortal, his understanding of the world was restricted to a basic comprehension. Now, he knew things that had no physical sensory source. He could feel what was in order. He could feel the rightness of what was and what should be.

“Do they—we—all feel like this?” His words felt too melodic, like his voice was reflected back through some filter that was softening sound.

She paused, her hand still holding his. “No. Not so fully, but they aren’t my children. You’re the only one who is that.”

When he glanced over at her, he saw her through his changed vision. Tiny moonlit chains like silver filigree stretched between them in a net that wasn’t visible to him when they were in Faerie. He reached for the net. “What is this?”

He could touch it; even as he realized it wasn’t tangible, it felt weighty in his hand like chain mail, heavier than it looked.

“No one else will see it.” She caught his free hand in hers. “It’s us. You’re of me, as if I’d borne you myself. You share my blood. It means you’ll see things, know things…I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“‘See things’?” He looked beyond her to the white sand beach where they stood. He didn’t think it was seeing. He felt things: crabs scuttling in the sand, seagulls and terns’ feet touching the earth. Absently, he walked toward the edge of the sea. As the water brushed his feet, he felt the life teeming in that water—animal and faery. Selchies mated somewhere to the east. A merrow argued with her father.

Seth concentrated on not-feeling it, not knowing.

“It’s not seeing,” he told Sorcha. “I feel the world. It’s like the whole time I thought I was alive, I was really barely conscious.”

“That is faery. More so because you are mine. The Hounds create fear. Gancanaghs create lust. That’s what they feel.” She led Seth away from the water to a bit of worn rock. “You’ll feel all that and other things too. A few of us can feel all of it, but some things will be stronger. Niall feels lusts and fears more truly. You’ll feel rightness, logical choices, pure reason.”

Seth sat beside her on the rocky outcrop and waited.

“The seeing part is different.” Her gaze was wary, but her voice was unwavering. “My sister and I have far-seeing. She chooses to see the threads to pluck to create disorder. I choose to focus on the inverse. But they are all only possibilities and connections. You must remind yourself of that.”

“Because I’m yours.” He hadn’t thought about any traits beyond longevity and strength when he sought this bargain. “This is all different because I’m your son.”

“Yes. You will have some…differences from other faeries.” She squeezed his hand in hers. “But when the seeing becomes too much, you will have time to be not-this within Faerie. You can return to me anytime and enjoy being mortal; you can escape from being a faery, from being of my blood.”

“What all will I…I mean, what other changes…” He struggled to make sense of this added gift—curse—as he struggled too to make sense of the flood of information from the world around him. “I see possibilities.”

She held tight to his hand when he thought to pull away. “Your own threads are less clear. It is only be others’ threads you see. It may be only sometimes. I don’t know how much of me you carry inside.”

He lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to block out everything but Sorcha’s words. The sensory differences dulled to a distant din, but silvered threads of knowledge stretched out like roads he could follow with his mind. He would Know things if he let himself—and he didn’t want to. Knowing without the power to change things was enough to make him feel unstable. He wanted to fix the conflict between the two merrows. He saw their threads. The girl was going to leave in anger. Her father would mourn because her death was likely after she left.

“How do you endure this?” he whispered.

“I change what I can, and I accept that I am not omnipotent.” She stood before him and looked at him intently. “If you weren’t able to be this, I wouldn’t have chosen you. I can’t see what you’ll do now; too much of my essence lives in you. I know, however, that you are quite capable of anything you want to be. You are someone who will slay dragons, who will do feats worthy of ballads.”

Seth realized that the gift Sorcha had given him was so much larger than he’d guessed. He had a purpose, a true purpose, out here as well as in Faerie. In Faerie, he created art for his queen mother; in the mortal world, he knew the things that could be set right. He could be her hand of order in this world if he had the skills to do so. “I don’t know how to fight or politics or anything….”

“Who are your friends?” she prompted.

“Ash, Niall…” He smiled as understanding dawned. “Niall knows how to fight. Gabriel and Chela are all about fighting. Donia knows all about politics. So does Niall. And Ash. So do the Summer Court guards…I can learn part of what I need from all three courts.”

“All four courts,” Sorcha added. “But you don’t have to do those things. You don’t have to become a hero, Seth. You could stay in Faerie, create art, walk with me and talk. I will bring us poets and musicians, philosophers and—”

“I will. Every year I’ll come home to you…but this”—he kissed her cheek—“is my world too. I can make things better for the people I love. For you. For Ash. For Niall. I can make both worlds safer.”

They sat silently for a few moments. Seth thought about the merrows who quarreled under the water.

“If the kelp strands were snarled as if by a storm, woven too tightly for the daughter to leave—” He stopped as that very thing happened. The merrow daughter was frustrated, but she turned back to her home.

Before he could comment, Sorcha pulled him to her in a quick embrace and said, “I need to leave. Go to your Aislinn. Find your place, and if you need me…”

“I do need you,” he assured her.

“Call, and I’ll be here.” She gave him a look that was one he’d seen often on his father’s face when he was younger—worry and hope. “Or you can come to me. Anytime. Devlin will assure your safety as well…and Niall…and…”

“I know.” He kissed her cheek. “I remember all the instructions you gave me.”

She sighed. “There’s no stalling it, is there?”

With a small gesture, she bent space to open a doorway into the park across from Aislinn’s loft. Sorcha was silent as Seth crossed the veil into the park.

He’d had the Sight before, so seeing the faeries who loitered in the park was not surprising. Aobheall was shimmering in her fountain; she paused as Seth appeared before her. Rowan guards stared at him. Summer Girls stopped mid-dance.

“Well, aren’t you unexpected?” Aobheall murmured. The water around her froze, droplets held in the air like tiny crystals.

Seth stood, speechless as the differences in perception assailed him. Aobheall’s voice was unchanged, but the pull to reach out to her was gone. There was no charm in his hand. Reality was different. He was different. The earth breathed around him, and he could feel it. The sighs of trees were a music that wove among the seeming silence of no one speaking to him.

“You are like us,” Tracey whispered. “Not mortal.”

She walked toward him with a sad expression that was common for her, but as far as Seth saw it, not warranted by the circumstances. Tears filled her eyes. She hugged him. “What have you done?”

For the first time since he’d met any of the Summer Girls, Seth was not affected by her touch. He didn’t feel the temptation to hold her longer or feel the fear of her injuring him in her forgetfulness.

He released her. “I’ve changed.”

Skelley took Tracey in his arms and held on to her as she began to sob. Other Summer Girls wept silently.

“This is a good thing.” Seth felt stronger, more alive, and sure of his choices. “It’s what I want.”

“So did they,” Skelley said. “That’s why they weep. They remember making that same foolish sacrifice.”

Aobheall didn’t frown or weep. She blew him a watery kiss. “Go see our queen, Seth, but know that life as a faery isn’t as kind as you thought. She had to do what was best for her court.”

The pressure in Seth’s chest, the fears of what else had changed, grew. He hadn’t felt that unease so strongly when he was in Faerie with Sorcha. There, he had calm. There, he had certainty. Now, he was walking into his beloved’s home, hoping that what he’d built with her was still strong enough to be saved.

He didn’t speak to the guards he passed; he didn’t knock. He opened the door and walked into the loft. She was there. Her cheekbones were more obvious, as if she’d lost a bit too much weight, and she sat much closer to Keenan than she had before. She was smiling, though, looking at Keenan, who was midsentence.

Everything stopped as Seth came into the room. Keenan didn’t move away from Aislinn, but his words and gestures stilled. Aislinn’s smile vanished, replaced with a look somewhere between amazed and unsure. “Seth?”

“Hey.” He hadn’t been so nervous in months. “I’m back.”

There were so many emotions racing through her expressions that he was afraid to move, but then she was across the room and in his arms, wrapped in his embrace, and in that moment everything was right in the world. She was crying and holding on to him.

Keenan stood, but he didn’t cross the room. He looked furious. Small eddies of wind lifted around the room. Sand bit Seth’s skin. “You’re not mortal anymore,” Keenan said.

“No, I’m not,” Seth acknowledged.

Aislinn pulled back and looked at Seth. She didn’t let go of his arm, but she stepped back. “What did you do?”

“I found an answer.” Seth pulled her closer and whispered, “I missed you.”

Keenan didn’t say another word; he was almost mechanical in his movements as he walked past them and out the door.

Aislinn tensed as he passed, and for a moment, Seth wasn’t sure if she was going to go after Keenan or stay with him. “Keenan? Wait!”

But the Summer King was already gone.

Donia knew it was him when he knocked at her door. Her spies had told her that Seth had returned to the mortal world as a faery. Keenan’s arrival was inevitable.

“You knew where he was.” She needed to hear it. They’d spent too long with half-truths. The time for such tolerances was past. “You knew Seth was in Faerie.”

“I did,” he admitted. He stood just inside her doorway and looked at her with the same summer-perfect eyes that she had dreamed of for most of her life and silently asked her to forgive him, to tell him something to make it all right.

She couldn’t. “Ash is going to find out.”

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

“With her?” Donia stayed at a distance, not touching him, not approaching. It was what she had to do. He’d given her words of love and then abandoned her to romance Aislinn. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still hurt. Now he’d come seeking comfort. “Yes.”

“And with you?” he asked.

She looked away. Sometimes love wasn’t enough. “I think so.”

“So I am left—” he broke off. “I’ve ruined everything, Don. My queen is going to…I’ve no idea what this will do to my court. I’ve lost you. Niall hates me…and Sorcha cares for Seth, the mortal—the faery I…” He looked at her. The sunlight that usually shone so brightly when he was upset had all but faded from him. “What am I going to do?”

He sunk to the floor.

“Hope that some of us are kinder to you than you’ve been to us,” she whispered. Then, before she could soften again, she walked away and left the Summer King kneeling in her foyer.