Chapter 79

Chapter 79
Kate’s POV

The sun in Tir na nÓg dissolves, and the light spreads out and mingles with the shimmer of the leaves, until it’s impossible to tell where the day ends and the night begins. That’s when Dan suggests we head back inside the Mother Tree.

Ashleen is still watching everything around her, reluctant to give up the view of the field. It’s only when Niv’leen promises that “tomorrow the little pest gets the full tour” that she agrees to go back.

On the way, she stays quiet, but her stillness feels full of little things Ashleen must be keeping to herself. Maybe questions, maybe memories she doesn’t even know are memories.

When we step into the main corridor, the living wood of the Mother Tree greets us with its sweet aroma, and the distant sound of water flowing through its inner veins seems to lull the air.

I lead Ashleen to the bedroom. She stops at the door, hesitating, as if afraid to enter a space that isn’t hers, even though she spent a whole night there.

“You can stay here tonight too,” I say, trying to keep my voice gentle. “You can share my bed today.”

Ashleen looks first at my small bed, then at Dan’s right after. That’s when she asks, in an almost curious tone:

“Where are you going to sleep?”

Before I can even think of an answer, Dan speaks for me.

“She can share with me, like the old days, with a wall of pillows in the middle.”

I open my mouth, then close it again, unsure whether to thank him or smack his arm. I end up doing both, and Dan shrugs, smiling faintly.

“But he’s huge,” Ashleen observes. “How are both of you going to fit?”

“Don’t worry about that, little one.” Dan gestures for Ashleen to move closer to my bed. “Worry about sleeping, because something tells me Niv’leen’s going to rent you for quite a while tomorrow.”

She doesn’t answer, but gives a small nod, and that’s enough for me. I help her climb onto the bed and tuck the blanket around her. For a moment, it seems like she’s going to say something else, but her eyes start to grow heavy.

When I step back, Dan is leaning against the doorframe, watching. I thought he’d left while I was busy with my sister, since it’s far too early for anyone who isn’t a child to have to sleep, but he gives me a small smile.

“She trusts you, even if she doesn’t realize it yet,” he says in a whisper. “The rest will come with time.”

“Maybe so…” I answer in the same low tone. “But I think she likes you a lot more than she likes me.”

Dan lets out a sigh.

“I’ve got a theory about that.” He turns his head, looking at Ashleen as he goes on. “If you left her life so early and Ashleen spent her first years with the Pale King as her only support figure, that means she’s not used to having female figures around. And, between you and me, I’m not exactly a very feminine figure.”

I raise a brow, holding his gaze for a few seconds, unable to stop the thought that he’s right. If Ashleen kept any memory of me, it would just be the sensation of being held in the arms of a frightened child, at a time when she had no understanding of what was going on around her — a time when she didn’t even know what it meant for us to be sisters.

“Even if everything about my appearance has a high potential to scare her and I’m not the Pale King, nor could I be called a man,” Dan goes on with his reasoning, “I must give her some tiny sense of familiarity.”

Now that he’s broken down the theory better, I see it makes a lot of sense — and that’s why I must seem so strange to Ashleen. It has nothing to do with my attempts to make her understand our connection, and everything to do with the simple fact that I’m a woman and not a man.

I take a deep breath.

“So how am I supposed to get around that, Dan?” I ask, really hoping he has an answer for me. “I can’t change who I am, and I’m not going to use the Master of Lies as a way to make things easier. Anything I managed to get with that would be fake and vanish the second I lost focus.”

“I already told you. Time, young mistress.” Dan turns his head toward me. “Only time can make sure you get around this obstacle. And, lucky for us, the thing is on our side again here in Tir na nÓg.”

My shoulders loosen a bit.

“It’s just kind of hard to be patient after being away from her for so long.”

“Then don’t think about the process. Think about how worth it it’s going to be in the end.”

I blow all the air out through my nose.

“I hate to admit you’re right.”

Dan shrugs again, now with a very irritating smile. I ignore him, even though my lips are betraying me, and go back to looking at my sister. Then I walk slowly to her, watch her sleep deeply, her breathing calm.

I adjust the blanket again, just as an excuse to stay there looking at her.

…

It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am until I see the wall of pillows just inches from my nose. My first reaction is to turn my head, and there she is — Ashleen, lying just a few steps away, face turned to the ceiling, hair spread out over the pillow like freshly wet dark curls.

I lie on my side, propping my head on my hand so I can watch her better. The color has returned to her cheeks, her chest rises and falls with a calm regularity. No stiffness in her body, no tiny tremor under her skin. Just a child sleeping.

My first impulse is to call her, but I don’t want to break the peace of the moment. So instead, I just slowly reach out and move a lock of hair away from her face. The touch is light, almost nonexistent, but she stirs. Her eyelids flutter before opening, revealing a gaze still halfway between sleep and waking.

“Good morning,” I whisper, not sure if she’ll even hear it.

Ashleen blinks, taking her time to focus, then murmurs something that sounds like “good morning” too, though so softly it almost vanishes into the air. She sits up slowly, as if getting used to the weight of her own body. I watch her, unsure whether I should get closer or wait for her to make the move.

“Sleep well?” I try again.

“Mm-hm.” Ashleen nods slightly, but her voice is neutral, without the emotion I was hoping for. There’s no coldness, but there’s still an invisible wall, a space I don’t know how to cross yet.

I bite my lip, searching for something to say, when a familiar sound comes from the door.

“Up early.” Dan is leaning against the doorframe again, arms crossed, expression far too relaxed for someone who probably stayed awake all night.

Before I can reply, I see Ashleen’s head turn toward him. The drowsiness in her gaze suddenly wakes up, as if he’d lit a candle inside her. A smile — small, shy, but real — appears, and I can’t help noticing how different it is from the one I got.

“You have…” She squints, pointing behind him. “A tail.”

Dan raises a brow without moving.

“You didn’t notice yesterday?”

She gets up way too fast for someone who just woke up, almost tripping on her own foot, and crosses the room with short, determined steps. I sit up, silently watching as she stops a step away from him, staring at the tail as if it were some kind of forbidden treasure.

“Can I touch it?” she asks.

Dan stares at her for a moment, as if weighing the risks of the question, then gives a slow nod.

“You can. But gently. And no pulling. It’s sensitive.”

She reaches out and touches it lightly, her fingers running over the dark, smooth surface with focused attention, as if exploring a new kind of fabric. The tail’s movement is minimal, but noticeable, reacting to her touch.

“It feels… like a lizard’s tail,” she concludes, frowning. “Do you use it to balance? Or to hit annoying people?”

“Sometimes both,” he replies seriously, though there’s a spark of humor in his eyes.

I stay still, feeling a strange mix of things: relief at seeing her interact, joy at hearing her voice full of curiosity, and a sting of something I don’t want to call jealousy. She just came back to me. I should be glad she’s talking to someone, that she’s alive enough to ask silly questions.

“Hey!” Niv’leen bursts in, flying through the hall and stopping by Ashleen’s face, his wings beating fast. “Step away from his tail, little pest! That’s dangerous territory.”

Ashleen turns to him with a look that shines more with challenge than fear.

“Why? Are you his tail guard?”

“Exactly!” Niv’leen crosses his tiny arms, puffing his chest like a legendary sentry. “Before asking his permission, you have to ask mine.”

“But the tail’s mine, not yours,” Dan argues, but I can tell from his expression he’s just playing along with the fool’s act.

“Silence, mythical iguana!”

Ashleen smiles, and the smile turns into laughter when, without warning, she reaches out her free hand and grabs the little fairy by the torso, lifting him to eye level.

“So can I touch his tail now?”

“You can, but you DON’T HAVE TO squeeze me LIKE THIS!” Niv’leen struggles in the air, but Dan is already chuckling, and I end up smiling too, even with the lump in my throat.

For a few seconds, the room feels like an ordinary place, with no ice, no impossible promises, no threats lurking nearby. Just a curious girl, a dragon with unusual patience, and a fairy who takes himself far too seriously for his own size.

I take a deep breath, storing away the scene. Literally, since I just picked up the small mirror Niv’leen gave me.

Maybe this is how it starts. Not with an instant hug or emotional declarations, but with questions about tails and asking permission from protective fairies. And, as much as it stings to see her leaning toward Dan first, I know it’s better than having her turn her face away from me.

The path might be long, but at least we’re walking it now.

It doesn’t take long before Dan suggests we leave the room.

“You need to move around a bit,” he tells Ashleen, who’s still clinging to his tail like she’s found a new toy. “Your body’s been still for too long. Walking will do you good.”

She looks at me, as if seeking my approval, and I smile.

“It’ll be good for you. The Mother Tree is beautiful, and there are lots of things you haven’t seen yet.”

We head out together. Ashleen walks between us, looking at everything with wide eyes. Sometimes she stops and tilts her head, as if listening to something we can’t hear.

“It sounds like the wood is singing,” she says suddenly.

Dan glances at her out of the corner of his eye, almost imperceptibly.

“Maybe it is,” he replies.

We pass under a natural arch formed by intertwined branches and reach a wide balcony, where the floor is a living net of thick roots. From up here, the view is almost unreal: huge leaves sway at different heights, and the light filters through everything in shades of gold and green. Birds with translucent wings fly between the branches, leaving shimmering trails in the air.

Ashleen leans against the edge of the balcony, fascinated.

“It’s all so… big. Or am I too small?”

“You are really too small,” Niv’leen comments, landing on the wooden railing beside her. “But don’t worry, so am I.”

She laughs, and the sound is light enough to warm my chest.

We keep walking along walkways that connect different parts of the Mother Tree. Some open into rooms where fairies talk or tend to small hanging gardens. Others lead to quiet spaces, decorated only with flowers and running water.

In one of these places, Ashleen stops before a fountain that springs straight from a crack in the wood. The water falls into a small, shallow pool, where petals float as if they’d just been set free. She kneels and runs her hand across the surface, watching the reflection distort.

“Can I drink?”

“You can,” Niv’leen replies. “The water here is clean and magical. It’ll do you good.”

She drinks from cupped hands, and for a moment she seems more like a child than ever — not in the sense of fragility, but of pure curiosity.

Dan stands a few steps away, watching, his tail slowly swaying behind him. And of course, Ashleen notices. She leaves the water and runs to him, touching the tip as if to confirm it’s still there.

When we start walking again, the sun begins shifting position, casting more slanted bands of light across the walkways. The scent in the air changes too, growing more intense, as if the Mother Tree were exhaling the day’s stored warmth.

Ashleen comes closer to me, taking my hand with hesitation. It’s a light, almost experimental touch, but enough to make me breathe a little deeper.

“Have you always lived here?” she asks.

“I don’t live here,” I answer. “Niv’leen brought me to the fairies because I needed help to find you.”

“Have you been looking for me for a long time?”

“Oh… you have no idea.”

“Then why did you leave Varkhael’s castle?”

I stop walking.

Looking back, I see Dan and Niv’leen’s alarmed eyes, but I know neither of them can — or should — answer that for me.

“Let’s sit somewhere,” I say, “and then I’ll tell you a story about two sisters.”