Spin the Shadows (Dark and Wicked Fae #1) - Cate Corvin Page 0,62
it here.” I made myself smile, so she’d hear it in my voice. “I have a great job, and friends.”
Pomona sounded cautious when she spoke again. “Do you still work for that awful satyr?”
No. I work for a dangerous man with eyes like sapphires, who sleeps in my bed and pretends I’m a stranger the next day. Oh, and he likes to put me in situations where death is a reasonable expectation.
“Yeah, I’m still with Fairy Ferry. Most of my friends are there, too. Numa’s not that bad.” The lie tasted bitter in my mouth. “I could stay here for years. There’s so much to do.”
“Oh.” Was it my imagination, or did my mother sound relieved? “So, dear… your visa expires in a few months.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well… the Grove council was wondering when you were planning to return.”
When. The word had the slightest, careful stress on it, as though she’d wanted to say something else, something like… if.
My mouth twisted, but the sick feeling was fading. I’d enjoyed my night with Robin, and I knew he had too, and that would have to be good enough.
Emotions wouldn’t be my weakness. I’d finally found something that called to me, that spoke to my soul: subterfuge, deception, and lies, all done in the name of something good. I’d lie and steal and even kill if I had to, if it meant getting those girls out of Brightkin’s hands.
I wouldn’t let my feelings for Robin destroy that. I fit with him perfectly, even if it was only as his agent, because his mandate spoke to me.
And then there was a tree. The first one I’d ever grown that no one would cut down for being an atrocity.
I bent down and straightened the comforter, tugging it flat. “Well, I was thinking about staying in Avilion and getting a permanent resident ID. I feel really good about it, actually.”
I heard Pomona suck in a sharp breath as I tossed the pillow back in place.
“Briallen… you know I love you, don’t you?”
A pang of heartache went through my chest, but only a small one. A year ago, the relief in her voice would’ve been too much to bear.
Now it was only a small cut, one that would heal over clean.
“I know. I love you too, Mom.” I smiled, a real one this time. My chest felt light, like I’d exhaled a cloud of burdens and guilt and left my insides clean. “But I don’t think I’m cut out for life in Emain Ablach. I’ve found a real calling here.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” She paused, and barreled ahead. “I can have your things sent there, Briallen dear.”
“I’d like that.”
I tossed my dirty clothes in a basket and sat on the bed. The smell of Robin’s cologne was still woven into it, enveloping me like an embrace.
“I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. Well, I’ll go inform the Grove of the new plans.” She sounded so bright and happy. “Kiss kiss! I’ll talk to you again soon, darling.”
“Love you,” I whispered, and hung up.
Emain Ablach could finally wash its hands and roots of me. I took a breath, staring up at the ceiling, and exhaled.
There was no pain, no burden crushing my shoulders beneath its weight, only a tinge of sadness at how quickly the island had released me from its grasp. Fae always said the branches of Emain Ablach didn’t easily release what they loved.
In my case, they were willing to gnaw their own branches away to be rid of me, the bad apple, but for once I felt perfectly at peace with it.
Somewhere far below me, in an inverse world of mist and stars, there was a knotted, twisting tree, and its petals glowed against the night sky.
It would be a tree for lovers, for people who always felt lost and craved a home of their own. Whatever mysterious fruit it grew, I knew the ones who ate it would taste my hopes and dreams.
My roots were here now. This was my home.
I got up and began slowly picking my photographs of home down from the walls. There were photos of trees, and me and my dark-haired mother, some of the sky over Emain Ablach.
None of them were of me and friends.
I stacked them carefully and reverently in my hands, then slid them into a box in my dresser.
When I was done, my walls were bare, but they didn’t look empty.
They looked like a blank slate, waiting for something exciting and new.