been converted into the League’s private school. One of the most exclusive in the country. One that Emma begged to attend, now that her secret was out and her abilities known.
“So how’s the school coping with the darkness?” I asked, wondering if attendance had been affected.
Bryn shrugged. “The kids are on break now. Maybe some won’t come back. I don’t know. We just installed sunlamps in the classrooms. Our teachers are scholarsand crafters, so to them the darkness is fascinating, an opportunity to study and learn. Before break, they were teaching Abuse of Power. Rituals. Properties of Raw Energy. History of Charbydon, et cetera … They take full advantage of this new development. It’s a good school. Emma would do well here.”
She probably would. But to say I was torn was an understatement. On one hand, I wanted Emma to have a simple, normal,
human
life; to have friends, do well in school, play sports. It was hard enough to deal with all the usual growing pains of preteen and teen years. How much harder would it be if crafting and arcane knowledge were added to the mix?
I had to weigh the benefits. Had to figure out what would provide the best environment and life experience for my child. What would give her safety, security, confidence, and yet allow her the independence she craved. From the time Emma was born, I envisioned this happy, ideal life she’d have—that I was determined she’d have—but lately, it wasn’t working out the way I’d thought it would.
We stepped off the path and into the yard. The scent of tangy grass filled the air. While there’d been no sun for the last two months, it was winter and the grass should’ve gone dormant and slightly brown. Yet the park at the Mordecai House flourished.
“Is this your work?” I asked.
Bryn looked up from the ground and out over the green field. “Mine and the other earth mages here. We do what we can, maintaining the grounds untilthe sun comes back.” More hope swept through me. Bryn loved communing with nature. It was easy to imagine her working her magic on the earth, using her gifts to cultivate plants, to give back to nature, even as she drew energy from it.
Placed sporadically through the grounds in isolated spots were small guest houses that looked more like quaint country cabins or cottages. We skirted a large pond ringed with weeping willows and finally entered the woods, following a small dirt path. I never would’ve found Aaron’s hideaway amid the maze of gardens, orchards, greenhouses, ponds, and outbuildings.
Bryn was right. Aaron did want his solitude.
The air was cooler and fresher in the dark woods. The leaves smelled earthy and old, crunching under our feet as we walked. “So, besides him wanting his solitude, how are you guys doing, okay?” I finally asked.
A bitter snort came from her. “If not talking and walking on eggshells is okay, then, yeah, we’re freaking brilliant. He probably has no idea about the suicides,” she said at length. “This should be interesting.”
“Maybe you should let me break it to him.”
“Maybe,” she echoed. “We’re here.”
In front of us, nestled in a thicket of pines, was a small cabin. Light glowed softly from the two small windows framing a narrow door. If not for the curtains in the windows and the smoke coming from the chimney, I’d think the place was a simple gardener’s shed.
Bryn stopped. She didn’t make a sound, just stared silently at the building.
Unlike most nymphs who lived at the Grove downtown under protection of Pendaran, the Druid King, Aaron was a loner. A scholar. A warrior. One who went his own way and didn’t live by the customs and laws of the Kinfolk.
And it was no wonder he needed time to recuperate. Physically and mentally. The Sons of Dawn had done a number on him. They’d targeted him for his power, had ripped his life force from his body and stuffed it inside the famous ring of their founder, Solomon.
And they’d used Bryn
“So how’s the school coping with the darkness?” I asked, wondering if attendance had been affected.
Bryn shrugged. “The kids are on break now. Maybe some won’t come back. I don’t know. We just installed sunlamps in the classrooms. Our teachers are scholarsand crafters, so to them the darkness is fascinating, an opportunity to study and learn. Before break, they were teaching Abuse of Power. Rituals. Properties of Raw Energy. History of Charbydon, et cetera … They take full advantage of this new development. It’s a good school. Emma would do well here.”
She probably would. But to say I was torn was an understatement. On one hand, I wanted Emma to have a simple, normal,
human
life; to have friends, do well in school, play sports. It was hard enough to deal with all the usual growing pains of preteen and teen years. How much harder would it be if crafting and arcane knowledge were added to the mix?
I had to weigh the benefits. Had to figure out what would provide the best environment and life experience for my child. What would give her safety, security, confidence, and yet allow her the independence she craved. From the time Emma was born, I envisioned this happy, ideal life she’d have—that I was determined she’d have—but lately, it wasn’t working out the way I’d thought it would.
We stepped off the path and into the yard. The scent of tangy grass filled the air. While there’d been no sun for the last two months, it was winter and the grass should’ve gone dormant and slightly brown. Yet the park at the Mordecai House flourished.
“Is this your work?” I asked.
Bryn looked up from the ground and out over the green field. “Mine and the other earth mages here. We do what we can, maintaining the grounds untilthe sun comes back.” More hope swept through me. Bryn loved communing with nature. It was easy to imagine her working her magic on the earth, using her gifts to cultivate plants, to give back to nature, even as she drew energy from it.
Placed sporadically through the grounds in isolated spots were small guest houses that looked more like quaint country cabins or cottages. We skirted a large pond ringed with weeping willows and finally entered the woods, following a small dirt path. I never would’ve found Aaron’s hideaway amid the maze of gardens, orchards, greenhouses, ponds, and outbuildings.
Bryn was right. Aaron did want his solitude.
The air was cooler and fresher in the dark woods. The leaves smelled earthy and old, crunching under our feet as we walked. “So, besides him wanting his solitude, how are you guys doing, okay?” I finally asked.
A bitter snort came from her. “If not talking and walking on eggshells is okay, then, yeah, we’re freaking brilliant. He probably has no idea about the suicides,” she said at length. “This should be interesting.”
“Maybe you should let me break it to him.”
“Maybe,” she echoed. “We’re here.”
In front of us, nestled in a thicket of pines, was a small cabin. Light glowed softly from the two small windows framing a narrow door. If not for the curtains in the windows and the smoke coming from the chimney, I’d think the place was a simple gardener’s shed.
Bryn stopped. She didn’t make a sound, just stared silently at the building.
Unlike most nymphs who lived at the Grove downtown under protection of Pendaran, the Druid King, Aaron was a loner. A scholar. A warrior. One who went his own way and didn’t live by the customs and laws of the Kinfolk.
And it was no wonder he needed time to recuperate. Physically and mentally. The Sons of Dawn had done a number on him. They’d targeted him for his power, had ripped his life force from his body and stuffed it inside the famous ring of their founder, Solomon.
And they’d used Bryn
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