Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1) (12 page)

"Aye, there certainly have been detours," I remarked sardonically.

"A few affairs with men who your grandfather and uncle thought of as politically advantageous was hardly the way to find your
Anam Cara
. You will find your way when the time is right."

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say. Arguing with Mamó was foolhardy—she was never wrong.

The weight of my race's deliverance pressed down on me, suffocating me. I gathered my strength, closed my eyes and pushed away the burden of their expectations.

My grandmother's attention wandered while I struggled with my thoughts, giving me some mental space. She appraised the food on the curate stand. After a moment of silence, Mamó patted the seat next to her on the sofa.

"Come sit next to me and have tea," she said gently.

I refilled her empty teacup and poured a cup for myself. When she waved off a fresh slice of lemon, I put it in my own cup instead. I dropped two lumps of sugar in each of our cups. Then I fixed a plate for each of us with two sandwich triangles. I cut a scone in half, spread cream on both sides and put one half on each plate.

I settled down in to the space next to her on the sofa. She sipped her tea and smiled approvingly.

"Did you see the child when you came in?" she asked.

This lighter topic was an unexpected and welcomed turn in the conversation.

"She's in the kitchen making cookies with JJ. They made the chocolate ones there." We both took a bite of chicken salad sandwich.

"Do you remember when I said that I had a feeling about her father—about Alexander?"

"Of course, Mamó."

She was quiet again, as if deciding how to continue. Her hesitation proved my first impression wrong; we weren't going to have a casual chat. Instead, she was weighing the consequences of telling me something important.

"Having 'a feeling' about someone isn't unusual for you, is it?" I said, encouraging her to continue.

"True enough. Actually, I get a feeling about everyone." She smiled ruefully. "Since I rarely ever explain what I mean by that, most fae conclude I have a vision, or some kind of second sight—a
Darna Shealladh
."

"Well, don't you?"

"Not at all."

"Oh?" I picked up a second piece of sandwich, making sure my movement was smooth and natural, feigning a sense of calm. She was about to reveal something that, until now, she had kept deeply hidden.

"You are aware, of course, that I can see auras?"

I nodded.

"Everyone's aura is different. They can tell you a great deal about a person."

"Is it true that your aura shows the quality of your character?"

"Auras come in many colors. The shade of that color is what you are referring to."

"White for good and black for evil, like in storybooks?"

"Yes, essentially, but in reality they are normally shades of gray. Angels have the purest auras, so much so that they are difficult to look at. I saw one once. Her aura was so pure, so flawless that it burned my eyes to look upon her.

"Fallen angels are the opposite; only Lucifer himself could be more devoid of light. I've never seen one myself, and I've never been sorry about that. I always believed seeing one would have a negative consequence.

"We Seelie Sidhe come closest on the spectrum to the angels, and the Unseelie to the fallen. Though we have variations, our auras are discernibly lighter or darker than humans.

"The colors and textures are harder to explain. They're subtler, and they take a while to understand when you first receive the gift. They can tell you many things—for instance, how artistic, healthy or intelligent the individual is.

"When you know these things about a person's makeup, it isn't hard to predict that a person with a dark aura may end up in jail one day, or that the marriage of a person with poor health to a person with little fortitude will fail."

It was a lot to take in.

"I see what you're saying. However, if you excuse me for saying so, you encourage people to misunderstand your ability when you make half statements or refuse to answer questions."

She smiled and nodded. "Aye. I find it's best not to reveal all you know about a person, otherwise they behave differently around you. The aura is an even more useful tool when you compare someone's behavior to their true nature. If they know about what I can see, they become cautious." She held my gaze with a look in her eyes that I didn't quite understand. It looked almost like a warning.

I tried to imagine what it would be like to be born with such a gift, and then I remembered something.

"Wait—earlier you said 'when you first receive the gift'. ‘Receive’ seems like an odd word to use for something you're born with."

"Aura Sight isn't something you are born with. We pass it down through our family, but not by genetics. It can only be bestowed upon you by the one who last possessed it. My great-aunt Tressa, for whom you were named, bestowed it on me when she passed on. I was a great favorite of hers, and I loved her dearly."

Her gaze became distant, reliving her past in her mind's eye. Sadness cloaked her face when she spoke again.

"She died when I was a child, suddenly and violently. I was quite young and had no warning. I did not understand what had happened. It was terrifying at first. The auras were so strong—overpowering, really. They blocked the physical person from my sight. However, I quickly learned to control the ability. Now when I meet someone for the first time, their aura is bold and obvious, but I'm able to tone it down." She sipped her tea before continuing.

"It's like when you meet someone with big ears. The ears are all you notice at first; you can hardly keep your eyes off them. But when you get used to the person, you stop noticing their ears, except every once in a while when it hits you: Joe really has big ears."

I nodded. "Do auras change?"

"Sometimes, but it’s rare. As I see them, anyway. It may have been different for the others before me, but I've only seen it happen once in my considerable lifetime."

She patted my knee.

"I suppose we better place wards around the estate in case any Unseelie fae have entered this realm. Will you go to the herb garden and get some cuttings for me?" she said, effectively ending the conversation.

"Of course, Mamó." As I put our dishes on the tray I asked, "Would you like me to take Sophia with me?"

"Let her be. Her father will return soon. And you can leave the tray there; Shamus will take it downstairs."

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. I was halfway to the door when she spoke again.

"Oh, and speaking of her father, I meant to tell you something about him." I turned back to her.

"What was that?" I had forgotten that she had mentioned him.

"His aura is different. Certainly not like any other human's I've ever seen. You're fighting your attraction to him, but you shouldn't."

"You know that just from seeing his aura?"

"You think running from him will keep him safe. However life isn't that simple. There are never any guarantees, no matter what you do. Don't miss out on love because of the things that might go wrong. There will always be bad in the world; grab onto the good while you can. Trust me. Better yet: trust your instincts."

I grabbed a pair of garden clippers and a long flat basket from a cupboard in the kitchen. With the handle of the basket hanging from the crook of my elbow, I headed outside and walked north. I strolled, surveying the changes to the foliage as the season made ready to turn into summer.

All hints of brown had left the grass. It was now in its young yellow-green stage, and it would soon be the blue-green of summer. The forsythia bushes had lost their yellow flowers and were covered in small green leaves instead. In fact, leaves covered all the trees, and the estate looked lush and healthy.

The garden my grandmother sent me to was not the herb garden used by Jenny, planted near the kitchen door of the main estate, but the one in the far northern edge where the clearing met the forest, almost a mile from the buildings. It didn't look like a garden at all, but it appeared to be the forest's natural attempt to extend into the clearing. This was intentional to avoid the curiosity of the non-fae.

The first clipping I collected was the three-leaf sprig of a poison ivy plant. I had no concerns about touching it, despite the rash it would give a human. Next, I grabbed the base of a horseradish plant. The textured leaves were course beneath my fingers. I gave it a firm tug and pulled it out by its fleshy root. I shook it to dislodge any loose dirt before placing it on top of the poison ivy leaves.

Lastly, I moved to the feverfew plant. I picked out a stem with several open flowers, held it between my fingertips, and used the clipper to cut it at the base. After placing it in the basket I reached for another stem. My hands froze in midair when I heard someone approaching from behind me.

It was Alexander. He was still some distance away, so I quickly finished taking the clippings I needed and walked toward him to greet him away from the plants.

I smiled cordially as I got closer to him, more relaxed than when I had encountered him in the past—Mamó's influence no doubt—and my smile became genuine.

His gait was smooth and agile. He had the small rubber ball in his hand that he squeezed and released rhythmically with his stride. I wondered what his aura looked like to my grandmother.

He returned my smile, seeming genuinely happy to see me. Perhaps he hadn't been avoiding me.

"Good afternoon, Alexander." I looked away from him awkwardly when I said his name. I could never come up with a nickname for him. Without an alternative name to use, I avoided eye contact when I said his name—though I'm sure it looked rude.

Nicknaming people was something I did regularly. Since I couldn't hold
Dominion
over someone unless I used their full and proper name using nicknames was a habit I had gotten into long ago to avoid any accidents. We fae folk didn't use our true names, for if a fae knew your name, they could control your every action.

"Can I help you find something?"

He chuckled. "Actually, I was looking for you."

The space between us closed, and he turned and walked with me as I continued back toward the house.

"First you're avoiding me, and now you're looking for me?" The question popped out before I could censor it.

This time he laughed that good hearty sound I liked so well. "No, I've just been helping you avoid me," he said. I blushed, embarrassed that he knew what I had been doing. Then I told myself that it only showed that he paid as much attention to me as I had to him.

"I rarely come to this end of the estate; it must have taken you a while to find me. Did you go to the lake first?" I worried that he may have found Shamus there while he was talking to Kelly. What would he have made of that?

"No, I figured you would be here."

"Why would you assume I was somewhere that I rarely go?"

He shrugged but didn't seem inclined to answer.

"Well here I am. What can I be doing for you?"

"Matt and Holly ambushed me after work. It seems it's Eileen's birthday, and they want us to come to
JR's
tonight to celebrate."

"Us?"

"Yes. It seems they have it all arranged. Matt's mother is taking Sophia for the weekend. Her granddaughter is visiting and the girls like to play together."

"You're not wanting to go?" I asked.

"It's not that. I just didn't think you would want to go with me."

"Sure, and how could I not, with such an enthusiastic invitation?"

His neck flushed red. Perhaps I should have felt remorse for my sarcasm, but his reluctant invitation had hurt my pride.

When we had come up to the yards behind our houses I could see Shamus returning to the Manor House. He must have just finished his conversation with the Pixies. I called his name and waved him over.

"Shamus, my friend, will you take these clippings in to Mamó?" I put the clippers into the basket and handed it to him. My cell phone vibrated, and I absentmindedly reached into my pocket and pulled it out while I continued talking. "How are things at the lake?"

"Very calm; nothing new there." Shamus's answer told me both that he understood my question and that the Pixies hadn't heard of any trouble in the air.

He nodded once to me, once to Alexander, and then bustled off with my basket of clippings in tow.

"He is a strange little man," Alexander said when he was out of earshot.

"Indeed, he is." I laughed harder than the comment warranted, giddy with the added assurance from the Pixies that my worries about the story in the paper were unfounded.

I swiped my phone open to read a waiting text message as I started to say goodbye to Alexander. He startled me by taking my free hand before I could speak. His hand felt warm, strong, and inviting.

"Tressa, would you please go out with me this evening?" His voice was as smooth as a caress.