Faerie Winter - Janni Lee Simner [17]
“Captives?” My voice was too small to bridge the space between Mom and me. In my vision, Karin had called Mom a captive, too.
Mom’s laugh was bitter. “All of us who found our way through to Faerie became captives. My father tore the city apart looking for me, but he had no idea how far I’d gone, not until later, and then—” Mom’s shoulders slumped. I wanted to put my arms around her, to say she didn’t have to tell me any of this.
But I wanted answers too badly. I said nothing. When Mom spoke again, her voice was strained. “I once watched a faerie lord command a human girl to throw herself into a river—and she did it, her eyes on him all the while, laughing right up until the rushing water clogged her throat.”
“Caleb wouldn’t—”
“No.” Mom shut her eyes, seeing things I couldn’t. “He watched, though, and made no move to stop it. So I had to watch with him. I think I laughed as well. Glamour is like that. It convinces you everything of theirs is so damned beautiful. There was a boy, the Lady herself turned him into a stag and hunted him like a wild thing. I remember the sound of the horns, the flash of his red flank through the green trees, the way the setting sun outlined his antlers—” Mom’s voice tightened around her words. “That was unusual. The Lady can change bodies as well as minds. It’s in the nature of her magic. At least with your magic, my mind—my thoughts—remained my own.”
Wind blew ash across the room. No one should die like that, with someone else moving their thoughts and limbs. I looked back toward the dresser and Father’s knife. I touched the blade. It was sharper than mine.
“At least I was the last,” Mom said. “Kaylen lifted his glamour from me in the end, and he gave his word he’d never use it again, on me or anyone else. If grief resulted from that decision in the end, that, at least, wasn’t his fault.”
“So you forgave him?” Mom hadn’t looked anywhere near to forgiving him in my vision.
“I’ve had time.” Mom moved to my side and set Caleb’s leaf back inside the drawer. “And I forgave him sooner than he forgave himself. I understand that now. But I would sooner die than have someone else control my thoughts and my actions once more. So I need your word. You must never use your magic on me again.”
It was too cold with the windows open. “So long as you’re not in any danger, you have my word.”
“That’s not enough. I know you mean well, Liza, but you truly don’t understand.”
The fire could have killed her. Did she expect me to just let her die next time? The stone’s purple light was dimming. I took it in my hands. “If you don’t trust me with my magic, how can you trust any promises I make?”
“It’s a funny thing about the faerie folk.” Mom shut the drawer. “They cannot say things they do not mean, and once they give their word, they cannot easily break it.”
“But I’m human.” I knew well enough that humans could lie.
Mom laughed uneasily. “I’ve noticed that once the children in this town come into their magic, they develop an odd unwillingness to lie. This has presented challenges in keeping their magic hidden.”
No magic controlled my words. I opened my mouth, meaning to tell Mom I wouldn’t use my magic to save her life, just to prove I could make false promises as well as anyone.
No words came out. I tried again. My chest tightened, and my breathing went shallow. I couldn’t seem to get enough air.
I stopped attempting to speak. Air rushed into my lungs. I gasped, stumbled, and caught myself. I couldn’t do it. I really couldn’t. I’d always hated to say things that weren’t true, but I’d thought it a choice. My choice.
“So you