“Sure.” I start cleaning brushes. “Sorry for making you come up here.”
“Hush. This place offers you solace. I won’t steal that away from you right now.”
Solace. I wouldn’t say that, maybe distraction. My studio offers me more than the ugly emotions of Kalos’s bedroom. I’ve tried to sleep there since my ability to sleep in my bed has gone the way of my appetite, and Griffin prefers to hang out in the dragon’s bedroom, but his campfire scent doesn’t settle me the way it did before. It just reminds me that he’s not here.
“Do you mind if I check on the baby?” Maggie asks, setting the tray on the coffee table in the sitting area away from my paints. It’s always wise to keep a strong divide from eating and drinking locations when it comes to painting. I’ve gulped paint water only once, but that’s enough.
I pull the nitrile gloves off my hands and hold them out to her. “Please.”
Maggie’s skin is pleasantly warm against my clammy hands. The chill hasn’t returned as violently as I expected. Mostly I’m only cold enough that I need to throw a hoodie on. I try not to think about what I’m going to have to do if it gets worse.
The zing of Maggie’s magic is a comfort now, and the fae hums after a moment. “She’s doing okay.”
My heart lodges in my throat.
“But she isn’t thriving,” I guess.
Maggie’s eyes soften, and she brings my hands together before patting them. “I think she’s picking up on your emotions. The hatchling bond is firmly in place even if she’s gestating in you instead of an egg.”
I’m a jumble of emotions, symptoms, and regrets, but the loudest at this moment is guilt.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.” I pull my hands from Maggie’s. “Is there a way you can make it better for her?”
Maggie tilts her head. “Other than making it better for you? No. It’s best to not mess with the bond.”
I huff a weak laugh. “I don’t know what that would take to make me feel better.”
Maggie pulls me to sit on the couch in front of the lunch tray. Her presence gives me a pang of comfort I’ve been missing. I’ve been avoiding her and Ben since the literal blow up with Kalos.
“You could share your worries. Your plans.” Her gaze touches on the duffel bag next to the easel. I’ve kept it within my sight since Kalos left. It’s not as equipped as a go-bag but has some provisions along with money and a phone charger.
“It’s my fault he’s gone,” I say.
Maggie snorts. “It’s Kalos’s fault. He will return.” She tilts her head. “But that’s not what you’re worried about, is it?”
How do I explain when I don’t understand myself? The urge to go down to the caverns to settle my worries has morphed and grown. Claws of inevitability dig into logic and keep me on the edge of my seat waiting for the storm to start.
I want Kalos to come back. We have a lot to talk about.
But for some murky reason, I don’t think I’ll be here when that happens.
I sigh. “It doesn’t make any sense, but it feels like something bad is going to happen.”
“You think you’re going to have to run.” Her voice is soft but rings clear through the way my nerves haven’t stopped buzzing since Kalos left.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “It’s probably just paranoia, but the bag helps me feel a little better.”
“Ah.” Maggie sits back as if she suddenly understands everything, her expression thoughtful. “You should trust your intuition.”
I roll my eyes more at myself than Maggie’s advice. “My intuition is what started this. I went down to the caverns because of this feeling. I could have asked Ben to help me or told you where I was going. I could have demanded that Kalos show me the caverns. But it felt… necessary.” My shoulders drop. “I’m not used to relying on people.”
I thought that Kalos was the one that was struggling in this relationship, but I don’t even know how to be a part of a family, and I’ve made everything worse.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. This is all new to you,” Maggie says.
I shake my head even though she’s right. Everything about my life now is new.
“And I suspect that there are other things at work.” Maggie hums before continuing. “Kalos mentioned that you didn’t want to explore your heritage. Which is understandable. Children with mixed blood haven’t been treated well by either side historically, so to leave that stone unturned is wise…” Maggie trails off.
“But?”
Her eyes sharpen. “But you have fae blood and it’s influencing you. Your abilities are fae-like, more so than I realized, and there are details about the fae that would help you navigate them.”
Excitement sparks in the midst of my misery. I’d told Maggie about my weird abilities when Kalos mentioned that I had fae blood, but she hadn’t mentioned anything like this. “Like what?”
“The fae believe in fate,” she starts.
I try to keep my shoulders from dropping. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but… a lot of people believe in fate. Even humans who don’t know about magic believe in fate. This is hardly the revelation I was looking for.
I must not be able to keep my thoughts from my face because Maggie laughs.
“I promise it’s relevant. Fate is hardly a unique concept, but we are especially sensitive to it. It’s the way that life moves around us. The flow of the world is a constant hum and guides those who can listen to it where they are supposed to be.” She hesitates before continuing, “It may be hard for you to accept, but the things that are fated to happen will happen no matter any action taken. I suspect that’s why what you dream has never been changeable.”
“And you think this feeling I’m getting is me tuning into fate?” I don’t like that. Don’t like that at all. “And there’s nothing I can do about it? No way to change the outcome? That hardly seems useful.”
Maggie’s smile is slow. “It’s a very human reaction to want everything to be useful. The ideology is to take comfort in the fact that what’s supposed to happen cannot be altered so easily. For good or ill, our belief system is more passive in comparison to the more mortal belief that you carve your own destiny.”
“One does feel more empowering than the other,” I mutter.
Maggie gets a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re not wrong. Our society has suffered for this reliance on what will be, will be, but when you receive nudges from the universe toward paths that don’t seem to be alterable… you work with what you’ve been given.” She clears her throat. “The intuition is not to avert the future we travel, but to act as a warning.”
So all the fae have moments of paranoia like mine? My paranoia isn’t actually paranoia, but an early warning system? That’s an easier truth from me to swallow than that I’m marching to fate’s drum. Perhaps I am too human to give myself over to this ambiguous power, but I can listen to the warning sirens in my head and trust that where there is smoke, there is fire.