She gives me a look, and her little eyebrows go up.
“I do like Jamison.” I tell her with a frown.
She tinkles.
“Yes, that way.”
There’s some exuberant jingles, and I give her a look.
“I don’t think that means anything though.”
She chimes gently.
“Sometimes I think he does, then…” I shrug. “He’s quick with his words.”
Then that mouthy fairy tells me that Peter is quick to forget, and I give her a look, but I wonder if she has a point.
I like the walk up to this mountain; there’s something cleansing about it. The higher I climb and the deeper into the altitude that I get, the better I feel, and I decide I should do this more often. Walks alone, the breeze and me—and a fairy who yells at me for things I’d imagine a mother might too.
When the ground starts to get snowy and my teeth start chattering, Rune lands on my shoulder and stomps impatiently before, from completely out of nowhere, a white feathered cloak cascades down from my shoulders.
“You’re very good to me,” I tell her with a fond smile.
And she says something along the lines of “someone ought to be.”
When we get to the top of the mountain, Itheelia is standing there waiting for us.
She looks at me, eyebrows up and intrigued. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I say a bit quieter than I feel she’d like, but I’ve gone shy. I don’t know why I’ve walked up a mountain to see the mother of the boy I’m very rather sure I have feelings for.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, and it’s neither annoyed nor delighted by my presence.
“The wind blew me,” I tell her a bit sarcastically, but also, I’m being a bit literal.
“Did it just?” She peeks around me like she might see it standing there beside me, then she nods at the fairy. “And who’s this?”
“Rune,” I say as she flits over to her, extending her hand.
“Ah.” Itheelia nods. “I’ve heard good things.” Rune chimes, pleased, as Itheelia looks over at me, gesturing to the cut on my cheek. “What happened here?”
Rune trills angrily, and Itheelia gives me a tall look, nodding for us to come inside.
“I fought a minotaur and won.”
She stops still for a moment before she looks back at me. “What?”
“Oh.” I give her a quick smile. “You know, the minotaur on the island with the labyrinth?”
“Yes.” She stares at me.
“Well, Peter wanted to play a game—”
“What kind of game?” she interrupts.
Rune tinkles loudly, and I sigh. “A stupid one.”
Itheelia stares over at me. “What kind of game?” she asks louder and clearer.
“I think it was a sort of rescue scenario he invented in his mind, where he’d put me in danger and then he’d save me, and then—”
Rune jingles hotly, and Itheelia—who obviously speaks Stj?r—stares at her in disbelief.
“Well, what then happened was that Peter—very true to himself,” I add to appease Rune, “became distracted and…left me.”
Itheelia presses her lips together. “With the minotaur?”
“Yes.”
“And you survived?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you did.” She touches my arm gently. “But how?”
“I just won the game.” I shrug, and she looks confused. “You know. I got into the maze, and then the hedge grew around me, and then I was able to stab him in the eye, and then he sort of…fell over in pain, I suppose? And then he gave the dagger back, and the hedges opened up and let me out.”
Itheelia stares at me for about four seconds, and I can’t read her face.
“Right.” She blinks five times and then nods. “Tea?”
“Oh.” I pause. “Sure, thank you.”
She moves over to the stove and puts the kettle on. She looks over her shoulder at me. “In the eye.” She lifts a brow, sort of impressed. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”
I lift my shoulders like the whole thing was out of my hands. “I was just trying to survive.”
“Aren’t we all.” She gives me a look as she hands me my tea and Rune a tiny one. Itheelia sits down opposite me. “How is my boy?”
I frown at her, defensively. “How should I know?”
“Ahh.” Itheelia lets out a big, dramatic sigh. “Still beating that drum, are we?”