Nym's Arc

Chapter 40 of 41

The spear stayed at Nym's throat. She held her breath and held the light down, gentle, the way Titus had taught her. Then hooves struck stone somewhere beyond the courtyard. Light and quick. The sound came closer. The stone guards turned their heavy heads toward the sound. Basalt lifted the spear a hand's width from her skin. Granite gripped the axe. A white stag burst through the far arch. Cherry blossoms trailed from its antlers. Moss hung from its chest. A man rode its back. His hair was silver and curled short. Brown wings folded against his shoulders. A scar cut across one eye. He pulled the stag to a stop before them and slid down. "Down," he told the guards. His voice was quiet, but the stone giants obeyed. Granite lowered the axe. Basalt drew the spear back and stepped away from Nym. She rubbed her neck and stared. The man did not look at her. He looked at Drasila. He walked past Nym as if she were air. He stopped before her mother and lifted a hand to her face. "It cannot be," he said. His fingers shook against her cheek. Drasila smiled. She raised her marked hand and touched his face in return. "Oh, but it can be." They laughed together. Then they pulled each other close and held on tight. Drasila pressed her face to his shoulder. His brown wings curled forward around her back. They swayed. They spoke low words Nym could not hear. For a moment the two of them stood alone in the world. Nym did not move. She watched. This was her father. Drasila had told her his name at last on the road, and now he stood breathing in front of her, holding her mother. He did not know her. He had never known she was born. She had crossed a mountain and opened an arch to find this man. She had imagined it a hundred ways. She had not imagined standing quiet while he forgot she was there. Drasila pulled back first. She wiped her eyes. Then she turned and reached a hand toward Nym. "Cowan," she said. "There is someone you must meet." The Fae king followed her gaze. His pale brown eyes found Nym for the first time. They moved over her black hair, her face, the runes still faint under her skin. His smile faded into something careful. He did not step toward her. He looked back at Drasila, then at Nym again, and Nym saw the question forming in his eyes before he could speak it. The guards were down. The castle was open. But the man who could name her did not yet know what she was.