Watching her mother fawn over Finn Ryan made Mirabella feel sick to her stomach. Throughout the meal, she’d made it her mission to be the guy’s new best friend. The woman did not have a discreet bone in her body. It was as if an inner alarm went off when she heard the name Finn and all of a sudden, gone was the emotionless zombie who’d raised her. She was now Alistair’s creature, solely intent on doing her master’s bidding. If they ever found Clover, she was afraid her mother might have a conniption. Gold star for Therese—Alistair’s star minion.
Mirabella took another sip of the wonderfully aged whiskey and was overcome with guilt. Faulting Therese for bowing to Alistair was akin to blaming someone for their own head injury or debilitating illness. If Therese had full possession of her own faculties, she would never have acceded to that monster. At least, that was what Mirabella hoped.
Therese was in full-on stalker mode. “Tell us, Finn. Where are you off to tomorrow?”
Finn smiled graciously; a quick glance thrown in the queen’s direction was met with a subtle head shake from his monarch. “Just a quick errand run. Nothing that would interest you.”
Scobert gave Finn a meaningful look. “Is everything okay with—”
Queen Helena promptly shot him down. “Let’s limit the conversation to mutual interests, shall we?”
Scobert seemed to bristle at the subtle reprimand, but quickly recovered, signaling at the valet for another round of drinks. Mirabella sneaked a look at Finn, who was sitting beside her. He had a calm and easy way about him that masked the fact that he was on high alert, the way his gaze continually patrolled the room even as he sipped his drink in apparent leisure. His steel grey eyes, while intense and sharp, were also warm and inviting. His light blond hair was cut close to the scalp, his features chiseled, and his lips, full. Not that she’d seen her fair share, but as far as men went, this guy was pretty much drop-dead gorgeous. He also used to be Alistair’s right-hand and from what she’d heard, pretty deadly, too. Growing up with hardly any company, Mirabella completely misplaced her manners and stared.
Probably assaulted by the weight of her ogling, Finn slowly turned in her direction. “So,” he said, a warm smile on his face, “have you been given a full tour of the realm? How are you liking it here so far?”
Mirabella quickly gathered her composure. “Actually, we’ve only been in court. I’d love to see more of the realm.”
“I’d take you,” Finn said, “but I’m leaving in the morning.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Scobert chimed in. “I’ll take you and your mother out tomorrow. We could go for a picnic. Have a couple of drinks. Maybe I’ll teach you to throw knives—who knows. How’s that sound?”
If she was being completely honest, that sounded particularly awesome, but she had to remind herself she wasn’t there to have fun. They were on a mission—and their very lives depended on it. “Thank you Scobert. That sounds great,” she said while she searched Therese’s face for approval.
Her mother snapped back to her role and turned to Scobert. “Yes, dear. We would absolutely love that.”
“It’s settled then.” Scobert’s grin stretched from ear to ear.
The queen laid her dessert spoon down across her plate, and Scobert and Finn shortly followed suit. If that signaled the meal was over, Mirabella figured she’d have another sip of her whiskey. She didn’t know when she’d get another chance.
“Find a free moment to see me tomorrow,” the queen said to Scobert, “for a quick word.”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you first thing,” Scobert assured Helena.
Mirabella wondered idly at the nature of Scobert’s and Helena’s relationship. While there was obvious deference on Scobert’s part, there was also a certain familiarity. One thing she gathered for certain was that while soft-spoken and affable, Queen Helena was not somebody to be underestimated. The woman screamed power and commanded respect. Her very presence gave Mirabella the shivers.
Mirabella was never one to turn away from what frightened her. “Queen Helena,” she began, “thank you so much for your hospitality. It is sincerely appreciated.”
“It was my pleasure,” Helena said as she pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “Unfortunately, the hour is late, and the morning promises a full day of tasks that require my attention. A pleasant evening to you all.”
As they said their goodbyes, the queen nodded once at Finn before leaving the room.
What happened next was no surprise. Finn bid them farewell and promised they’d see more of him on his return. He promptly followed Queen Helena out of the room. Mirabella exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She realized then that she was on a suicide mission. Whether Alistair or Queen Helena would deliver the fatal blow was yet to be seen.
It had been nearly eighteen years since Scobert had shared a bed with his wife. Alone in the room with her that night, he felt like a pimply-faced nervous teenager, hardly knowing what to do or say. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited like a man on death row. Therese was in the bath for what seemed like an eternity. In the past, being with Therese had always been easy. From the moment they met until the day she’d disappeared; their relationship had been effortless. He never had to pretend or try to be anything other than his true self, and Therese loved him for it. Now, things were different, and understandably so. The attraction, at least on his part, was stronger than ever, but he felt like he hardly knew this new Therese. It occurred to Scobert that she may have been thinking the exact same thing about him. He’d admittedly changed over the years. Maybe not physically—he looked the same as the day they met—but emotionally. Surviving what he had and coming out alive on the other side; it changed a man. Largely, he had Helena to thank for his redemption.
He got up, unsheathed the knife that hung by his belt, placed it on the table, and paced the room. He muttered a curse. Thoughts of Helena were not helping his predicament. He was doing nothing wrong, yet raw and unadulterated guilt was eating at his insides. Just as he considered calling the whole thing off, Therese stepped out, her hair wet, skin flushed, a leather journal clutched in her hand. An unbidden smile formed on Scobert’s lips. Though she’d aged subtly over the years, she was still as beautiful as ever. Self-consciously, he wondered whether she’d written about him in her journal and if it was good or bad. Again, feelings of adolescent insecurity resurfaced, making him feel like a total fool. He raised his right hand in a silent greeting, then rubbed at his jaw and silently vowed he’d have to be much smoother than that.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
Therese flashed him a familiar smile, bringing back a barrage of memories. “Not really,” she said.
Scobert took a couple of tentative steps closer. When she was within reach, he dared to tuck a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear, twirling the fine strands in his fingers before he did. “I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said quietly.
She rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand. “I’ve missed this,” she said, an almost surprised look on her face.
“When you and Mirabella were taken from me,” he began, his voice rough, “a part of me died. Short of actually killing myself, I did everything I could to drown my pain—to forget.” He gently cupped her chin, his thumb brushing against her lips. “Losing you ended me, and I was more than happy for my life to be done with. But fate plays tricks, and we adapt. Somehow, someway, I came alive again, and I’m better for it. I’m a changed man, Therese. A lucky man. I want more than anything to be with you again, but I’m afraid I will not survive another death.” He took in a ragged breath. “I’ve loved you since the day you walked into my bar, and I’ve never stopped, but I’m a man of reason, and I need to know. Where were you? Who took you? And why are you back?”
Therese stepped away like she’d been shocked. “I’ve told you everything. What else do you want?”
Scobert’s apprehension was a wet blanket on an otherwise happy occasion, and while he regretted it, it was absolutely necessary. “I don’t ask for much. Just your honesty. If there’s something you don’t want to tell me because you’re afraid—or whatever it may be—we’ll figure it out. You, me, and Mirabella. As a family, we’ll figure it out.”
Tears pooled in Therese’s eyes, her expression hurt and insulted. “How could you doubt me so? I’ve told you everything. We don’t remember. Somebody took us and stashed us away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. We’ve lived our lives as best we could, never knowing what the future may bring. Fate brought us back to you. Whether you’ll cherish it as a gift or cast it away like garbage is entirely up to you. We don’t need you in our lives, Scobert. We can manage on our own. But I do want us to be a family again. I want a second chance.”
The gut-wrenching emotion evident on Therese’s face melted away any remaining traces of doubt. Scobert let out a harried breath, wondering how he ever questioned her. In the next instant, he had her in his arms. “That’s what I want, too,” he breathed. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Her journal landed on the stone floor as she lifted herself up on her toes and wrapped both arms around his neck. Scobert bent down to kiss her in earnest, casting inhibitions aside and allowing himself to enjoy his wife again. At that moment, all guilt and uncertainty faded away. Having Therese back in his arms felt exactly right.
“I’m never leaving your side again,” she promised, breaking briefly from their kiss.
“I’m never letting you,” he whispered back.
Clover and Button made their way through Market Square in relative anonymity. Disguised as Sinann, Clover was amazed at how openly men ogled at her. Catching her reflection on a storefront window, she wasn’t so surprised.
“I guess this is how it feels to be a supermodel,” she said, feeling herself blush.
“What’s a super model?” Button asked, her brow knitted in confusion.
“It’s like a regular model, only better,” Clover said.
Button shook her head, looking just as confused as before. “Why did you have to disguise yourself as Sinann, anyway? It’s a little disturbing. You could have just gone as me again.”
“I can’t very well be you if I’m with you.”
“Oh, right,” she said, thoughtful. “And why do you have to be in disguise?”
Clover took in a breath. Sometimes, being with Button was like chaperoning an easily distracted child, but for all her little quirks, she couldn’t help but warm up to her. There was something so unapologetically simple and pure about Button that it was nearly impossible not to like her. If nothing else, it was refreshing. “Remember?” Clover said. “I told you about Alistair and how he tried to kill me. I have to be careful. Unseelies might be on the lookout.”
Button let out a little shiver, as if the thought of Alistair gave her the creeps. “I’m sorry you have to hide so much,” she said.
“Me, too,” Clover agreed.
They evaded the crowds at Market Square and got on the grassy path that led to Anna’s house. Clover relaxed a little as they walked in silence, the sun bright and warm on their faces, birds chirping nearby. After her argument with Finn last night, Clover had been restless, worried, and mostly remorseful that they’d parted the way they had. Apart from needing to see Momma Ruth to tell her about the rather disturbing news about her mortality, she was also hoping her early morning visit might lead her to Finn, and that they could sort things out before he left.
Button glanced at her and rubbed at her eyes. “Nobody’s around anymore. Would you mind changing back to your regular self?”
Clover giggled. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
Button made a face. “Imagine if I were wearing a very convincing Finn costume, and every time you looked at me, you saw him. How would that make you feel?”
Just the mention of his name elicited a tightness in her chest and a quickening of her pulse. She licked her lips and suddenly wasn’t feeling so relaxed anymore.
“I get it,” Clover conceded. She channeled the power resting dormant within her and summoned her transformation. Heat pulsated throughout her every nerve ending, culminating in a sort of inner explosion that signified the change was complete. She knew without having to check that Button was not seeing her girlfriend anymore, but the real Clover. Not to toot her own horn or anything, but she was getting really good at shapeshifting.
“Happy now?” she teased.
Button smiled and nodded. After a few minutes of companionable silence, she turned to Clover. “I know you and Finn had a fight. I saw him leave with Ilbreac—I mean, Tony.”
Clover didn’t meet her gaze. Somehow, talking about their argument made it seem more real, final. She kept on walking, hoping that Button would drop it.
“You can talk to me, you know? I know a little something about dating an outrageously good-looking faerie. Just saying. It’s not always easy. But you do love him, right?”
“I’m pretty sure I do,” Clover said. “But I’m afraid to.” Her own honesty surprised her, and she had to admit: It felt pretty good to say it out loud. “Do you love Sinann?”
Without hesitation, she answered, “Of course. Why do you think I stayed?”
“I didn’t realize you had a choice in the matter,” Clover said.
“Tsk, tsk.” Button wagged a finger at her. “A choice exists in every matter. You just have to be brave enough to make it, and strong enough to stand by it.”
That was the thing with Button. Just a moment ago, she was as clueless as ever. The next moment, she was spouting Yoda-like nuggets of wisdom. Clover wondered whether she was ready to make the decision to choose Finn—everything about him, and all that implied. Even as she wanted desperately to be, she still wasn’t so sure. Her life was complicated enough as it was.
The sight of Anna’s house in the distance buoyed her spirits. “We’re almost there,” she said. “Thanks again for coming with me. I really appreciate it.”
Button smiled wildly, picking up her pace. “Are you kidding? I haven’t been anywhere in forever. I’m so excited to meet your family.”
Button’s lighthearted and positive attitude was infectious, forcing Clover to cast aside her own worries, even for a time. “Last one there’s a rotten egg!” she called to Button before she set off on a run.
Peals of laughter followed closely behind her as Button quickly caught up. The frivolity of a little friendly competition had Clover’s blood pumping as she sprinted up the hill to Anna’s, her muscles welcoming the rush of adrenaline. Toe to toe, they reached the doorstep nearly at the same time, flushed and out of breath.
“Rotten egg,” Button said, panting and pointing at Clover.
Clover was happy enough to claim defeat. “I was pacing myself.”
Button gave a little silent victory dance on the doormat, waving her hands in the air as she circled in place. Clover giggled and rapped on the knocker, happy that she’d brought a friend.
Ruth stared open-mouthed at Clover’s friend. She hadn’t realized that when her granddaughter visited in disguise the last time, she had taken on somebody else’s appearance, and that Adele was a real person. Looking at the original article, she marveled at the skill of Clover’s transformation. She had altered herself into an exact replica of the girl that now stood before her.
“Adele, is it?”
“Yes, Ma’am, but everybody calls me Button. You must be Momma Ruth.” She stepped closer and gave her a big hug. “I’ve heard so much about you. I feel like I know you.”
Ruth hugged the sweet girl back. Any friend of Clover’s was a friend of hers. “You darling little thing. I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Same here,” Button said as she released Ruth from her tight bear hug.
“Where’s Dad?” Clover asked.
“He’s out running. I wish we’d known you were coming. We could have prepared brunch. Anna is in the backyard, tending to her vegetables. Oh, goodness, where are my manners? Ladies, sit.” Ruth fluffed the pillows on the couch and motioned to the girls. “Let me get Anna, and perhaps Cordelia could whip something up for you girls to eat.”
Clover plopped down on the couch the way teenagers did—as if their butts were weighted down by some gravitational sofa magnet. Button took a seat on the armchair, her hands folded on her lap.
“Did you say Dad was out running?” Clover asked, bewildered.
Ruth nodded. “He runs every morning now, but he should be back shortly.”
Cordelia, and the cat, Diana, chose that moment to make their entrances—one buzzing overhead like a frazzled bumblebee, the other sauntering assuredly like someone owed her some money. The little faerie zoomed in on Clover, the incessant flapping of her little wings slowing incrementally as she lowered herself on the girl’s lap.
“My faerie-in-training is all grown up,” she gushed at Clover. “Look at you! So beautiful.” Her voice was a crystal bell chime on a blustery day. “And who is this cherub-faced friend of yours?”
Button bent down and extended her hand to the tiny faerie. “My name is Button.”
Cordelia extended both hands, clasping Button’s finger. “Well met, pretty lady. Are you hungry?” she asked as her wings flapped in excitement. “Would you care for some flapjacks with honey and blueberries?”
“I would love some,” Button beamed.
That was all it took for Cordelia to soar back up, her pink, translucent wings working overtime. “Done!” she said with a flourish. Then, to Clover, “and you and I will gossip later.” She flew to the kitchen like a shrunken helicopter on a mission.
Diana pounced on the couch and settled herself beside Clover with the same aplomb as always, stretching on her side, exposing her belly. A satisfied purr reverberated throughout her feline form as Clover rubbed her down, paying close attention to that sweet spot behind her ears.
Anna walked in through the back door, probably disturbed from all the hubbub. “I thought I heard your voice,” she exclaimed, clearly pleased to see Clover.
Clover got up and gave Anna a hug, disrupting Diana’s belly rub and obviously irritating the cat to no end. Button stood back at first, then promptly introduced herself to Anna. What a pleasant young woman she was, Ruth thought.
“Is everything okay?” Anna asked, her brow knitting infinitesimally. “We love having you here, but I worry when you travel around so much, dear.”
“Blame Button,” Clover joked. “She desperately wanted to meet you guys.”
“Guilty,” Button admitted sheepishly.
“Well, we’re glad to have you,” Anna said. “Come. My home is your home. There’s a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Shall we?”
As they all moved to the airy kitchen, Button bumped Clover’s shoulder and whispered, “Is she your future mother-in-law?”
Ruth chuckled to herself when Clover turned beet red as she shoved and shushed at Button. She was glad that her granddaughter had someone her age to hang out with. Having someone around to be silly with was just plain old good for the soul. They took their seats around the huge butcher-block-slash-table as Anna poured everyone a cup of coffee. Cordelia happily zipped around the room, dumping ladles-full of batter onto a large skillet while she fried up bacon on another one.
Anna found herself a vacant stool and took her seat, blowing on her coffee as she took little sips. “You just missed Finn,” she said to Clover. “Did he know you were coming?”
Disappointment was evident on Clover’s face even as she attempted to mask it. “No, actually. I hadn’t mentioned it.” She absent-mindedly traced the cup’s brim with her finger. “We just missed him, huh?”
Anna nodded. “He was in quite the rush, but he wanted to make sure to give me this.” She reached into her pocket to reveal the brass compass; the same one they’d used to contact Scobert only days ago. “So that we can keep in touch.”
By the slump in her shoulders and the sudden resignation in her eyes, Ruth was certain something was bothering Clover, and it didn’t take extraordinary sleuthing to infer what it was. She could sniff out a lover’s quarrel even if she was gagged, blindfolded, and bound.
Just as Cordelia was laying the finishing touches on her pancakes, Ruth concocted a simple scheme to get a few minutes of alone time with Clover. “Sweetie, before I forget, I need to show you something,” she said innocently. “Anna, Button, if you’ll excuse us for a moment.” She was smooth like that.
Clover shot her a dubious look, which she promptly ignored. She got up and left the room, expecting her granddaughter to follow right behind her.
Trailing Momma Ruth into the living room, Clover worried that something was horribly wrong. Why else would her grandmother set up a ruse to get her alone in the other room? Once they were out of earshot, she pulled her to the couch.
“What’s the matter?” they asked each other in unison.
“I was worried about you,” Momma Ruth confessed. “The look on your face when Anna mentioned Finn. Something awful. I figured you two had a fight, and you’re here bright and early today because you hoped to see him before he left for Earth.”
Clover let out a sigh. “You hit the nail on the head. Am I that obvious?”
“Only to me, sweetie. Tell me.”
The concern on Momma Ruth’s face shamed Clover and broke her heart. There she was, pining over Finn, when she should have been concentrating on how to tell her grandmother that she was now immortal. How self-centered could she be?
She took Momma Ruth’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was something silly. I’m silly. A shallow argument with Finn should be the least of my worries—”
“Shush. You’re eighteen,” Momma Ruth said as she squeezed her hand, “you had a fight with your boyfriend. Of course, you’re going to fret. That’s what teenagers do. Sure, big things are afoot, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a young woman in love. Go be a teenager. There’s no shame in that.”
Marveling at how lucky she was to have Momma Ruth in her life, she couldn’t help but shed a tear. “Oh Momma,” she sighed as she gave her a tight hug, “I don’t know how I’d ever survive without you.” Selfishly, she realized she’d never have to. She wiped a tear from her cheek and steeled her nerves. “I have to tell you something important.”
Momma Ruth inhaled, her expression turning grave. “It’s about the effects of Finn’s healing, isn’t it?”
Clover nodded.
Momma Ruth brought both hands to her face. “I think I know what’s happening to me.”
“You do?”
“I’m turning into one of them, aren’t I?”
“One of who?” Clover asked, genuinely perplexed.
“You know,” she whispered. “One of them. One of you. A faerie. I realize Finn didn’t bite me or anything, but I’ve seen enough movies to know how this works. He does this life-altering thing for me. All of a sudden, I’m changed. I look younger. I feel stronger. Next thing you know, I’m transforming pumpkins into coaches, and I’ve grown wings.”
Clover laughed despite herself. “You think you’re turning into a faerie godmother?”
Momma Ruth shrugged. “I’m not?”
“No, but something did happen to you. Or I guess I should say, something won’t happen to you. Not without a great deal of trying, I suppose. I’m not sure—”
“Clover!” Momma Ruth bellowed with gritted teeth. “Just tell me.”
“When you had a heart attack, and I wished for Finn to heal you, I wished that you wouldn’t die. Finn thinks that by granting that wish, he may have inadvertently turned you—immortal.”
Momma Ruth was silent for what felt like an eternity, her head tilted to one side as if she didn’t quite hear what was said. Finally, as if waking from a dream, she spoke. “I won’t die?”
Clover shook her head sheepishly. “I don’t think so.”
“Will you die?”
“I think I’ll be around for a while.”
“So, I get to be around for the rest of your life,” Momma Ruth mused, seemingly to herself. “I could work with that.”
“You’re not upset?” Clover asked.
“A little jarred, obviously, but not upset. No. I’m relieved. At least now I know what to expect—and I get to live this incredible journey with you. Can you imagine that? Sweetie, I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
A huge weight lifted from Clover’s shoulders. As she gave Momma Ruth a hug, the future didn’t seem so bleak at all. No matter what happened from that point on, she knew she’d never have to face the prospect of losing the most important person in her life. Incredible didn’t even begin to describe that journey.
The front door opened, and Nick walked in. Judging from the look on his face, it was safe to assume that she and Momma Ruth looked a total mess. Clover wiped away tears and sniffled loudly. Her grandmother was in the same exact state of disrepair.
“What? Tell me,” Nick said, face ashen.
Kean entered the living room shortly after, his worried expression matching Nick’s.
“It’s nothing. We’re fine,” Clover reassured her dad as a giggle escaped her lips. They were more than fine.
“Are you sure?” Nick asked, still worried.
“Absolutely,” Clover replied, happy to see her dad looking so vibrant and healthy, while also a little surprised to see he’d been hanging out with Kean again. She gave an awkward little wave to the handsome soldier.
Momma Ruth squeezed her hand and gave her a playful little wink before getting up to face Nick. “Settle down, son,” she said as she patted down the pleats on her skirt. “Just a little bit of girl-talk here. Nothing to concern yourself about. We are good. Now, are you lads up for some blueberry pancakes?”
Her dad searched her face, a final attempt to verify if everything was indeed fine. Clover nodded resolutely. Nick’s relaxed and unfurrowed countenance slowly returned, and Clover’s heart nearly overflowed to see how much he’d actually cared.
“I’m in,” Nick responded with a huge smile.
When Momma Ruth eyed Kean expectantly, he shrugged. “I could eat.”
The four of them made their way to the kitchen, the enticing aromas of bacon and pancakes leading the way. Nick quietly took Clover’s hand and brushed it against his lips. “Love you, kiddo,” he said matter-of-factly. At that moment, she couldn’t have stuffed more happiness into her bursting heart if she tried.