“You mean because you’re the linchpin in the alliance that could end with us being defeated?” God. She didn’t deserve the shortness in his voice. How could he fault this girl for wanting sight? For wanting to right the perceived wrong she’d done to her mother? “Just leave the worrying to me, Mary,” he added, evenly. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”
While he’d try not to think of how it would end.
Chapter 5
Mary counted her breaths and waited for Tucker to return to the car.
As they’d been wont to do for the last hour, she reached up and traced the bottom edge of her crown. After their conversation about Mary not being able to subdue her radiance like a normal fae, Tucker had pulled off the highway without warning and gone into a store. It’s a surprise. That was the only explanation he’d offered—and it had turned out to be an understatement.
She was now the proud owner of a child’s light-up crown.
It was electronic and lit up when turned on, projecting—according to Tucker—a glowing carousel of light above her head, thus camouflaging her own luminous pin pricks.
A peculiar clench in Mary’s chest caused her to drop her hand once more.
Of course, according to Tilda, her skin still had a slight glow, but it wasn’t as noticeable as the shimmer over her head. Did this mean, she could go places now? The threat of her scream would never go away, but…shouldn’t Tilda or even herself thought of this before?
Was it the shame of Mary’s impairment that kept them indoors instead?
How could it be anything else when this man she’d known less than one night already had a semi-practical solution?
Mary set aside her thoughts and reached out for Tucker’s signature, hoping for the calm he’d given her earlier. The kind he seemed to give just by being close. She didn’t have a lot of practice reading immortals and never a vampire, so it took an effort, but she found his watchful, reassuring presence…although there was a definite layer of tension now. A kind she didn’t fully recognize, but reminded her of the stairwell. Smoky and eager and hot. The way she’d felt when his breath ghosted over her ear, his big hand tracing her hip. When she’d wanted to wrap her legs around his waist. Was Tucker thinking of the stairwell now?
Realizing she was starting to breathe faster, Mary stopped reaching for Tucker’s signature and retreated back into herself. The sun was about to rise and they’d stopped at a roadside motel. Before Tucker climbed out of the car, he’d reassured her she would be in view of registration. That promise allowed her to lean back in the seat now, relax her bunched muscles. So much for being brave and independent. Vulnerability had crept in the second Tucker left the car. These surroundings were strange. If she exited the vehicle, she wouldn’t know where anything was. How to navigate.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
As a child, she’d run through fields without anything or anyone to guide her, relying on her elevated senses to alert her if something was wrong. If an impediment stood in her way. If she fell, she fell. No one was stopping her from getting back up. After being indoors so long, that bravery had been replaced by wariness. Staying inside was for her own good. The good of others. She’d had those words repeated to her often and usually blew them off, not willing to give them credence. But they must have sunk in, despite her best efforts.
Sitting in the car in a strange place had her close to shaking.
She curled a hand around her armrest, remembered the weight of her suitcase in her hand. The suitcase she’d packed herself. She wasn’t reliant on other people for everything. One day she wouldn’t rely on anyone but herself. For now, though…
For now, she could only acknowledge how little she’d been taught to do. She’d never been to a store. Never purchased clothing or made a phone call or checked into a motel.
Now she was going to get married?
Yes. She was.
When in doubt, she could think back to the day the skies had opened up, ten years to the day of the previous Exodus, and fae had been plucked from the woods of their compound. The strongest, most cunning and able-bodied among them. They’d been take to the Faerie Realm in a flash of light so white and strong, even Mary had to shield her eyes. And then according to those left on the ground, the sky had sealed itself back up like a zipper.
Taking her father along with it, where he now ruled the Assembly in the highest capacity.
Tilda had called after him—"Anton!”—begged him to stay.
He’d been given a choice—and he didn’t choose them.
Didn’t choose Mary.
That’s what his departure came down to, didn’t it? When given the option of living among the strongest or remaining among the weak, he’d chosen strength. Mary hated referring to her blindness as a handicap, but it was hard to remain positive when the world viewed it as such.
Her father had viewed it as such. Especially when she’d been young and wild, stumbling her way through the compound, accidentally stepping in a pit of glowing coal or tripping on tree roots. Refusing to be led and constantly forgetting her guide stick. His frustration could best be described as palpable. Reading Anton’s signature in those days had led to her sapped strength and humiliation.
But if Tilda’s prediction came true, her noble act of sacrifice would spur a return of the fae. And this time she would be ready. She would be worthy in her father’s eyes and her mother staying behind to care for her wouldn’t be for nothing.
A door closed in the direction of the registration office and Mary sat forward, relieved to sense the vibrations of Tucker approaching. He seemed to hesitate outside the passenger door before tapping on her window. She pushed it open and extended a hand to him without thinking. Immediately, the strength of his grip, the intertwining of their fingers, sent a ripple of heat straight up to her shoulder, sensitized the flesh beneath her skirt. She tried to concentrate on keeping her breathing even, her pulse from skipping, but apparently controlling her involuntary responses to Tucker was impossible. They just…were.
“We’ve got a room,” he said, gruffly. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t do separate ones. It’s not because I don’t think you’re able to stay alone, but…I guess after the shit I’ve seen, especially lately, I don’t trust that anywhere is safe.”
“That’s fine.” She stepped closer to him. “I’m glad.”
His gaze brushed their joined hands. “Are you okay?
Mary nodded and, for a moment, swore she could read his mind. Knew exactly what he was thinking. “I know what I said before we left Enders. About doing things for myself. But the farther we get from home…the less assured I am in that.”
“I’m not grading you, Mary. Be however you feel.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell you when I get back my confidence.” She licked her dry lips. “In the meantime, if you wouldn’t mind just…telling me where everything is? So I can get my bearings?”
“’Course I will,” he said gruffly, without the slightest hesitation. As if nothing she was saying sounded odd when it probably, almost definitely, was. Who lost confidence so easily? Who shook in the face of a motel parking lot?