In fact, last year, the interruptions had gotten so bad, so frequent, the Old Magic is considering withholding story hour.
Thankfully, since this would have meant that the Old Magic would have missed story hour as well, he’s come up with a better plan for punishing the insolent children. Blaise and Nox’s children especially. When they’re not getting their sticky hands into the blood sausage, they’re skirting around rules as if they’re suggestions, and always, always interrupting the Old Magic’s stories.
That, and the Old Magic gets the strangest feeling around Aysel, Blaise and Nox’s oldest.
There is something familiar about her, something that reminds him of…but that can’t be.
In fact, the Old Magic can’t help but eavesdrop through Asha’s ears on Nox and Marcus’s nearby conversation.
“So, Sasha’s magic talks to her?” Nox asks Marcus as they sit around the fire.
Marcus leans back in his chair, chewing on the flax Amity brought him a few minutes earlier.
Marcus chuckles. “It’s the strangest thing. We had no idea what was happening at first. Sasha kept getting into trouble, then telling us it was the voice that was telling her to do it.”
Nox stiffens. “What kind of trouble?”
“Oh, nothing too sinister. Mostly getting into the kitchen and trying to make things a three-year-old should not be attempting. I can’t tell you how many fires I had to put out before we finally figured out what was going on.”
Nox sits on the edge of his seat now. “Which was?”
“Apparently, when the fae absorbed magic all those generations ago, it got passed down with each generation, fracturing each time. Except when Piper was born, since she had human blood in her veins, a fraction of her magic sort of woke up. At least, that’s how Sasha explained it to us. When Sasha was born, there was even less fae blood, meaning Sasha’s fragment can actually speak to her.”
Nox chooses his words carefully. “And that doesn’t…disturb you?”
“Oh, it does. Immensely. But it’s not as if I can really do anything about it, can I? Other than lay down ground rules about what is and isn’t allowed in the kitchen.”
Nox glances at Aysel, and his expression softens. “No, I suppose not. But what if…what would you do if the voice Sasha was hearing wasn’t inclined toward good?”
If it were me, I’d drop her off at the vampire clans in the north and be done with her, thinks the Old Magic to himself, though this is one of the less self-aware things he has thought, since he secretly holds a tenderness for Aysel.
Marcus furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”
Nox leans forward, propping his elbows on his legs as his tone goes hushed. “It’s just that Piper’s magic, Asha’s magic—they both have a sense of morality. I just can’t help but worry that passing fragments of the parasite onto our children…”
“Is going to ruin them irreparably?” Marcus asks.
Nox grimaces. “Well, yes.”
Marcus shrugs. “It’s called being a parent. We all worry about that.” He goes to stand from his seat to refill his drink and glances at Aysel, who’s trying to coax a beetle into the fire. “Though, I would make an extra attempt to socialize her with other children if I were you.”
Nox’s shoulders deflate slightly, but then he takes a deep breath and goes to his daughter, smiling gently and whispering something in her ear. She groans, looking forlorn at being forced to abandon her attempt at beetle extermination, but she does as her father says, scampering off to play with the other children.
Cecilia quickly welcomes her. “Oh good!” she exclaims, her black ringlets bobbing underneath the cone of paper she’s turned into a princess hat atop her head. “You can be the villain!”
Aysel’s eyes glitter with delight.
Nox sinks into the couch, tipping his head back in exaggerated despair. “I give up,” he says.
Marcus, having returned with his drink, slaps Nox on the shoulder. “Well, if it’s any consolation, she does make a pretty adorable villain.”
The Old Magic could not agree more, though he’d be loath to admit it.
He returns his attention to Asha, who has been silently chuckling as she also eavesdrops on the conversation happening across from her.
You shouldn’t laugh, the Old Magic scolds. That child might very well be the death of us one day. Growing up with my wicked sister knitted to her soul.
Asha internally flares her nostrils. A fragment of your sister, she reminds him. Besides, it’s not really the dark urges someone has that make them good or evil. It’s which has control over the other.
The Old Magic is about to retort that it’s much easier to be good if you don’t have evil urges whispering in your ear, but then his gaze fixes on little Aysel. “No,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head vehemently. “Cecilia is my friend. Friends don’t steal friends’ princess hats.”
Asha smiles. See?
The Old Magic is forced to admit that he does.
Asha has that way about her, being able to see the best in people, sometimes even when the Old Magic is convinced it’s not truly there.
Like Blaise, for example. Over the years, Asha has come to forgive her for her betrayal, despite the Old Magic’s constant skepticism and warnings.
Oh, well. He supposes that is in Asha’s nature.
Though he hasn’t said a negative thing about Blaise since he got suspicious that perhaps she had been the one to kill Azrael.
That boy needed to die.
Still, Blaise and Asha keep their distance from one another, even at these gatherings. The Old Magic knows that Asha suspects Blaise of the same.
It’s not that Asha blames Blaise for ending the life of the man who tortured Asha and held her captive, for keeping Kiran from being the one to do it.
