The Magic Between Us (Faerie 3)

“I didn’t know the duke played,” Cecelia said.

“He doesn’t do it often. But Sophia says he used to do it when he was feeling melancholy. He had a piano in his chambers.”

“That’s an odd thing to have in one’s chambers,” Cecelia mused.

“He’s a bloody duke. He can have whatever he wants.”

“So what does the music have to do with the paintings?”

He took a deep breath. This was difficult to explain. “It appears as though Mother and Father left a token with each of their fae children so that we could recognize them later in life. For Sophia, she was entranced by music. And the purpose was so that she would recognize the song of a loved one.”

“And she recognized the duke?”

Cecelia ran a finger down the center of his chest and stole his attention. “What were we talking about?” he asked.

She laughed. “Sophia recognized the duke as someone who loved her.”

“Oh, yes. He was the one. The tokens have backfired, apparently. Because by the time Sophia’s token began to work, the duke was in love with her, so it was his song that entranced her. She recognized him as the one who loved her, and then they fell in love, and the rest is history.”

She mulled it over in her mind, the crease between her brows growing deeper. “Wait, so you’re saying that the token was so that she could find her parents, your parents, but she found the duke instead? Because he was the one who loved her and it was his song she recognized?”

“Exactly. Mother is a singer, and she thought it would be her song. But the duke fell in love with her before she found Mother and Father.”

“But what about Claire and the paintings? Is that her token? The fact that she can paint?”

“Father is an artist,” he went on to explain. This really was very convoluted. “They left Claire with a magical paintbrush, and when she has the paintbrush in her hand, she can walk into any painting of her choice. If it’s a real place, she’s in that place, like when we went to Paris and to the land of the fae. And if it’s not a real place, then she goes to a place like this.” He held up his hands, indicating the picturesque little field and the tree.

“I still don’t understand,” Cecelia said. “What does her walking into paintings have to do with your parents?”

Marcus heaved a sigh. “They left her with a painting of a tiny door that Grandmother kept in the attic. Over the door it said ‘Sweet Home’ in Latin. When Claire was angry one day, she went to the attic, found the painting, the paintbrush, and the door, and she went through it, hoping to escape Mother and Father’s presence in the land of the fae. She didn’t yet like them at that point.”

“And?” Cecelia prompted.

“When she went through the painting, she tumbled directly into Lord Phineas’s bedchamber, because he was ‘home’ for her. He was mad for her, and she was already increasing, so this all made sense at the time.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “Did you get a token, too?”

“I did.” He nodded.

She elbowed him in the belly. “Tell me what it is. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“First, I need to tell you what we’ve come to know about the tokens,” he said. He brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “We learned that the tokens represent home. When we were younger, that home might have been with our parents. But since our tokens took effect later, they pointed us to homes of a different sort. They took us all to the home in our hearts. The ones we love.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his compass. “This used to point me home when I went on missions. It always did. I would leave home, and I could always find a portal by using my compass. It never failed me. Until I left you. And I found you again. The night you appeared at the ball where we were all introduced to society, I opened my compass and it pointed to you.”

“I’m home for you?” she asked, sitting up, the sweetest of smiles on her face.

“Wherever you are is home. Here, there, the land of the fae… We could be on the moon and it would be home for me as long as you’re there.”

“But does that mean each of you were fated to fall in love with one specific person?” She didn’t appear happy. Not at all.

He rushed on to say, “No, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Are you certain? Because that doesn’t sound very fair if that’s the case.”

“No, no.” He’d bungled this royally. “We were all in love already when our tokens took effect. I love you, Cece. The only one who doesn’t know it is you. The universe already knows.” He jiggled the compass at her. “The magic knows. The world knows. You need to know.” He took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes.

“But it’s almost like none of you had free will.”