A Lesson in Beginnings

A Belamour Archives Holiday Special

Written by Mawce Hanlin

“I don’t get it,” the Kid grumbled behind the stack of badly wrapped gifts in their arms. “Why would he come down the chimney instead of through the door? What about people who don’t have chimneys? What if the fire is lit? Will he die? Is that why people light fires? To keep the claw man out?”

Amused by the questioning, I rolled my eyes and set the last of the gifts atop the Kid’s teetering pile. “He’s called Santa Claus, not the claw man, and most children want him to come in, not be kept out. People believe he brings you presents on Christmas Eve, filling your stockings with gifts, or coal, depending on how good you’ve been that year.”

“Coal?” A bright head of pink curls popped around the boxes, their matching eyes narrowing in my direction. “He puts coal in your socks? But that’s mean! And how can he visit every kid in one night? Is he magic? Is that it? He’s sìdhe isn’t he? You’re just messing with me!”

“Santa isn’t sìdhe,” I assured them as I ushered them toward the gateway door at the back of the shop, “but I guess he is said to be magic. Some believe he rides a flying sleigh pulled by reindeer, but my mother always said he rode a motorbike.”

“A motorbike!”

The Kid stumbled over one of the floorboards, and it was only my quick reflexes that kept the gifts from tumbling all over the floor. I latched onto them with my magic, tugging the threads lightly until they were re-stacked and floating between us.

The Kid gapped at the gifts for a moment before turning an accusing glare in my direction. “You could do that the whole time? Why did I have to carry them?”

I smirked at them and tucked a hat over their head, tugging it down over their ears and eyes. “Keeps your hands from touching things they shouldn’t. Don’t think I missed you sneaking a bite of the dough for the cookies. Those are for Santa, not you.”

They squawked, scrambling for the hat to push it to a more reasonable position. “Santa isn’t real! How can he eat the cookies?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out on Christmas, won’t you? No more questions. Grab the Athru offerings while I get the door.”

It was strange, having someone else with me for the holidays. In truth, I hadn’t even thought about it until my mother asked if I was bringing the Kid to Tòisich Athru with me, and if we were staying through till Christmas. I was so used to waking up an hour before the scheduled dinner, barely enough time to get dressed and stop by a bakery for something to bring. Gods forbid I show up at my mother’s house late, or even worse, without a gift.

Now, I had an excitable ten year old that woke me up at six in the morning to demand answers about why we were celebrating Christmas when we were sìdhe. Why we had to go to my mother’s house for it when we already decorated the Belamour here. Why a fat man in a suit gave children presents in exchange for store-bought cookies. Why, why, why.

I would never begrudge someone their curiosity, and I had learned over the past year that the Kid was stocked full of it, but the holidays were making me question my own patience when it came to that question.

Unfortunately for me, asking too many questions and waking someone up too early on their day off wasn’t punishable by death. Nor was it allowed to sacrifice children on the solstice holidays anymore. Which left me trying to wrangle the Kid into a coat, gloves, and the Christmas sweater they insisted on buying, in time for us to stop by the bakery before the lunch rush. Then it was gathering the food and the gifts—all wrapped terribly and in plain brown paper that the Kid took a bunch of markers to, claiming the added artwork was to distract everyone from my ugly wrapping—and getting the Kid to my mother’s.

How my mother managed to get anything done with me and my sister, and most of the time my best friend Julia, I had no idea. The Kid wasn’t even mine, and I was exhausted before noon. Yet somehow, regardless of waking up at six in the morning and having a door that could teleport us there instantly, we still managed to stumble into my mother’s Parisian home nearly thirty minutes late. A fact she did not hesitate to remind us of.

“I said dinner is at five, Mael Nguyen,” the older woman in the entry hall said as she glowered at us. She pointed a spoon up at the clock on the wall and raised an eyebrow. “I know I taught you how to read a clock.”

“Hello, Mama,” I greeted before she could complain further, ducking down to press a kiss to each of her cheeks. With a wave of my hand, I sent the presents over to the tree and the food over the woman’s head to the kitchen, then gestured to the Kid. “You can blame them. They couldn’t decide on what to get at the bakery, and then insisted on decorating the presents before we left.”

The Kid hadn’t moved from the small area near the front door, the bag of supplies for Tòisich Athru clutched in their arms and their pink eyes wide with what almost looked like fear. I wasn’t sure why they looked like that, considering how excited they’d been the whole morning, but my mother took it in stride as she always did.

“You must be the so-called raccoon my son found in his trash.” She didn’t hesitate to pluck the bag from the Kid’s arms and thrust it into mine, taking the Kid’s chin in her hand and turning their head this way and that. “Strong magic in you. Winter magic. Do you have a name we can call you, little fae?”

The Kid swallowed, glancing at me for a moment as if looking for an answer. I didn't have one of course. They'd been with me for a little under a year now, but they'd still yet to settle on a "human" name to use, and didn't have an aosìdhe one they liked either. All I knew was that they didn't have a heartname yet, and they refused to use whatever name they went by in Aos Sì before fleeing. Judging by the scars on the backs of their hands and the way they shied away from the question all together, I hadn’t thought it wise to push. I ended up just calling them "Kid" most of the time anyway, and they never argued about it.

When I didn't help, they glared at me, nose scrunching up and lips jutting out in a pout. They thought for a moment before saying, "Meeko. You can call me Meeko."

Meeko... I frowned, the memory of a recent movie marathon flooding my brain. "Like the raccoon from the movie you watched yesterday?"

"I panicked!" They yanked away from my mother, ducking under her arm to skitter over to me instead. "You're the one who told your mom I'm a raccoon you found in the trash! I am not a raccoon! And I wasn't in the trash!"

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignant tone in their voice or the way their cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “But you are a raccoon I found in my trash.”

"Well, wherever you were and whatever you are, it's nice to finally meet you, Meeko," my mother said, something all too knowing in her dark eyes as she watched us. "I'm Nhi, but you may call me Bà."

I jerked at that, my eyes widening at the meaning of the word. "Mama, they're not my—"

"Now come," my mother interrupted, turning the Kid around to guide them to the living room. "Let me introduce you to your dì, Lyli. We weren't sure if you were coming, so she'll be very happy to see you. Has my foolish son told you what to expect for today?"

The Kid ducked away from her touch, but followed where she led regardless. They spared me a wide-eyed glance over their shoulder, a little bit fear, a little bit disbelief. "Um, no? Only that today we're getting ready for a holiday you don't believe in, and then tonight we celebrate Tòisich Athru, which you do believe in."

I narrowed my eyes at them and mouthed, ‘Traitor’, to which they just stuck their tongue out at me in response.

My mother tutted as she passed, and I wondered if it was too late to take the Kid back to the shop and pretend they weren't about to form a devastating alliance with my mother and sister.

"I suppose you aren't wrong," the older woman said. "But let me explain it better–"

Despite the strange apprehension I saw in their eyes upon seeing my mother, the Kid settled in fairly well amongst the remaining Nguyen family. My mother put them to work right away, as she is wont to do, placing a stool beside her own in the kitchen so the Kid could help her with the food prep. They of course were no better than I was in the kitchen, but my mother was a patient teacher, and the Kid was an excellent student. They took to cooking much better than I ever had.

It was nice, seeing them work alongside each other so easily, and amusing, seeing the Kid’s tongue poked out between their teeth as they concentrated on mixing the batter for the cakes. They were an eager learner, and even more eager to impress.

"Mama is gonna be mad if she sees you lurking about her kitchen," Lyli whispered as she sidled up to me in the doorway. "First you didn't tell her you had a kid, then you're late to Tòisich Athru, and now you're in the danger zone. You've grown bold in your old age, big brother."

"I'm barely a decade older than you," I say back, tapping my slipper to the door frame, "and I'm not in the kitchen. I'm outside of it."

Judging by Lyli's snort, she didn't believe that would matter if Mama happened to turn around and see me lurking. She was probably right, but there was something in my chest that wasn't quite ready yet to let the Kid out of my sight. Not after the strange look they sent me upon arrival. Not after seeing them glancing toward the doorway where I was standing as if to make sure I was still there.

Mama would just have to get over it.

"You know, I didn't ever expect that you would be the first one to bring home a kid. Thought it'd be me, you know?"

I glanced over at my sister with a small frown. "They're not my kid, I'm just taking care of them. Besides, I thought you didn't want kids?"

Lyli had always been a bit of a wild card. My mother said she was born with too much of her father's blood in her, Spring blood. Always bouncing around for something new, something fresh. Impossible to tie down, to sit still. Stagnation was Lyli's greatest enemy, from the tips of her blue toenails to the shaggy dark mullet atop her head. Every time I saw her, she looked different, lived somewhere different, had a new patron or none at all. It suited her, I thought. I couldn't imagine her settling down in a little house like this with kids of her own running around.

"Oh no, I don't," she was quick to reassure. "It's just, well...no offense, Mael, but you kind of hate people? I never imagined you adopting kids, which if you don't know, are just very small people. I figured I'd change my mind or get accidentally knocked up long before you managed to bring Mama home some grandkids."

"They're not a grandkid because they're not mine." They weren't. They were just a kid that I took care of because they needed help. Lyli was right, I wasn't father material and I never would be. No matter what she or Julia tried to say about it. "They ran from Aos Sìand just needed somewhere to stay. They picked the Belamour."

Lyli crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the opposite wall with a look on her face I couldn't quite figure out. "And you just said yes? Mael, do you know how protective you are of your space? You wouldn't even let me stay at the Belamour when I was homeless."

"I bought you a house–"

"Yes, yes, and I'm grateful for it," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "What I mean is that you let someone stay there—live there. That's not just helping someone who needs help."

Maybe she was right, in a way. Maybe I saw that scared kid falling through my shop's window and recognized the need to get away, to find somewhere to hide until your hands stopped shaking and your mind stopped running on autopilot. After all, the Kid wasn't the first person to stumble upon the Belamour when they needed her most. At least they were more graceful about it than I'd been.

"Bela is the one who took them in," I tried to justify, shoving down the weird feeling in my chest when the Kid glanced back at us again and gave a hesitant smile. "She had a room ready for them before I even knew who was downstairs."

"Right, because Bela can sign adoption papers and enroll someone into a school." Lyli grinned at me, jabbing her pointy elbow into my ribs when I glared back. "Come on, Mael. I'm happy for you! Besides, now there's someone else to give you hell when you're being a stuck-up know-it-all."

"I am not—" But Lyli was already gone before I could finish the sentence, skipping into the kitchen with a little flourish of her winter dress and challenging the Kid to a cookie baking duel.

She had a way with people, Lyli. A way of drawing them out of their shells and making them laugh. The Kid was by no means an introvert like myself, and they had a personality as bright as their hair, but they tapered it down around strangers. Hid themself behind a mask I recognized from my own time in Aos Sì. Lyli wasted no time in prying that mask up and tossing it right in the trash with the scraps.

Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

***

"This is dumb! Who puts popcorn on trees? And why are we even doing this if it's Tòisich Athru?"

By the time dinner was finished and we'd all retreated to the den for an evening of decoration making, I had decided I was never coming to a family event with the Kid ever again.

It wasn't that anything had gone wrong, necessarily. In fact, everything at dinner had gone great. Too great. Lyli's superpower of drawing people out of their shells, and my mother's superpower of welcoming new family with open arms, meant the Kid was in full force by the time the wassail cakes were served out.

They were practically billowing with the energy I’d gotten used to over the past year or so, after they’d settled in at the Belamour. Which mostly meant they wouldn't stop talking, and asking question after question about everything we did. Which on a normal day would be endearing and familiar, but today? Not so much.

Decorating time at my mother's house was meant to be my post-dinner food coma time. I was meant to be napping away on the couch while Lyli and Mama worked at the evergreen wreaths and the tree garlands, having been banned decades ago from trying to help when they both decided my attempts were too atrocious to even try anymore.

Unfortunately, the Kid had questions, and they were loud and bold enough to speak them over the vinyl record playing in the corner of the room, crooning the same ten Elvis songs my mother played every year during the winter festivities.

"There are no Tòisich Athru festivals in this realm," I answered them, passing over the popcorn bowl when Lyli made grabby-hands at it. "In Aos Sì, we'd be prepping for the evening festival anyway, but we don't do that here, so we're prepping for Yule and Christmas instead."

The Kid frowned, the action scrunching their face like a wet rag. "The two holidays you don't even believe in? What's the point?"

I shrugged. "Tradition? Anonymity? Generations of holidays mixing together as magical marries into the mundane? It's easier to blend in when we celebrate what everyone else celebrates. Then we do our own thing in private when we can."

"Mostly it's a reason to get together and party," Lyli chimed in, waggling her eyebrows at the Kid. "Tòisich Athru is for the Tapestry and for magic, but everything else is for family. It's just something we've always done to fit in, and it became a sort of tradition to keep it going even after papa died. We get together to hang out, eat yummy food, give gifts, that kind of thing."

"It is also a reason for my children to actually visit once in a while," Mama said from her own seat at the short table. She already had a stack of wreaths before her, perfect circles with little pinecones and holly leaves tucked in, and was working on the next.

Meanwhile, Lyli and the Kid were painstakingly stringing popcorn with a needle and thread, something the Kid was growing increasingly frustrated with when the popcorn broke apart in their fingers. Contrary to their belief, sticking your tongue out does not, in fact, help.

"I visit all the time," I told my mother, tossing a popcorn kernel at Lyli when she silently mocked me from the floor. "I came to see you just last week to help with your tinctures."

Mama couldn't argue that, but I could see the look in her eye saying she wanted to. Instead she just hummed and said, "Well you could stand to visit me more, that's all. The both of you, and you Meeko." She pointed an evergreen sprig at the Kid, a false sternness on her wrinkled face. "You will visit many times, with or without my son, yes? Do not hide away in that dusty bookshop of his and become a hermit. It will do you no good. You come see your Bà as much as you like. My door is always open for you."

The Kid's eyes widened at that, their lips popping open in a small 'o', as if the simple acceptance was completely new to them. Maybe it was. Aos Sì was a mixed place when it came to family dynamics, especially amongst the fae and seelie.

"Really?" they asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Mama nodded with all the sureness of a genius backed by facts. "Of course."

"Hey," Lyli whispered when tears started to prickle at the Kid's pink eyes. She had a sparkle in her gaze that I recognized, a mischievousness that the Kid often had when they convinced the Belamour to join their pranks against me. "Wanna see something super cool?"

She held up a piece of popcorn, and dread settled in my stomach. "Lyli, no–"

But the Kid was already hooked, wiping at their eyes and perking up with interest as Lyli turned to face me with a grin. "Come on, Mael! Open up!"

I only had a split second to do as she ordered before a piece of popcorn was launched at my face. Catching it on my tongue was instinct, despite the fact that I didn't even like popcorn, and I couldn't fight back the smile that twitched at my lips when the Kid cried out in excitement.

"Woah! Do it again! Again!"

Lyli did as she was bid, and I caught the next piece. And the next. I nearly fell off the couch catching the one the Kid insisted on throwing, but the cheer they let out upon my doing so made the embarrassment worth it.

After that, it was an all out popcorn war. The Kid demanded I teach them how to catch the kernels with their mouth, and Lyli was perfectly happy in her dual position of trebuchet and saboteur.

Mama just sat at her little table making wreaths and humming along to Elvis while the chaos reigned. Sparing us nothing more than an eyebrow raise and a twitch of her lips.

Though, she did look all too pleased when demanding we clean up by hand rather than magic after Lyli knocked over the whole bowl of popcorn. But I knew her expressions well enough to know she enjoyed the chaos around her. Enjoyed the loudness of the house and the sound of laughter echoing off the walls.

I made a mental note to visit her more often with the Kid, if only so she wasn't so lonely in this empty house of hers. Besides, she may not be the Kid's actual grandmother, but I knew she wouldn't deny me if I demanded a babysitter every once in a while.

***

Tòisich Athru was one of the two most instrumental days of the year in Aos Sì, the other being Deireadh Athru. Each a day to welcome change and new beginnings. Each a memorial as much as it was a birth.

The true origins behind the Athru had long ago fallen to the wayside, but the traditions themselves lived on in the majority of Aos Sì, and the sìdhe that came from it. Not all of us in the human realms celebrated, too separated from the world our ancestors were born to, but my family always had.

"We give back to the Tapestry and Mother Magic, as she gives back to us," my father used to say as he helped us light the candles on the altar. "Magic is a gift given, and a gift taken away. So we must honor and thank that which gives, on the days where the Tapestry is the thinnest."

I never expected to be saying the same thing to a kid of my own—or rather, a kid I happened to be caring for—but the closer to midnight it grew, the more unsure the Kid looked, until they were staring at the circle of candles Lyli laid out as if it were only moments away from swallowing them up in flames.

By the time Mama was starting to gather the supplies for the ritual itself, the Kid had all but disappeared. It took me a few precious moments to track them down, finding them huddled up in the bathtub with their knees pulled up under their chin and their face tucked into their arms.

"Ritual is about to start," I said from the doorway, trying to ignore the heavy awkwardness settling in my throat like a stone. "Mama said we should start getting ready."

The Kid didn't answer, didn't move. If not for the uneven rise and fall of their back, I might have thought they'd fallen asleep in there.

I wasn’t sure what else to do. I'd never really been good with kids, or emotional people, so I had no idea how to deal with an emotional kid. Still, I was over half a century old at this point, so surely comforting a sad child couldn't be that difficult. I'd certainly done harder things.

After a moment of awkward silence and consideration, I stepped into the small bathroom and lowered myself opposite of them in the tub. I was certainly too big to do so, and our feet knocked together even with my own legs pulled up to my chest, but the Kid didn't pull away, so I considered it a win.

"Want to tell me what's going on?” I asked when they still didn’t say anything. “I know I'm not the uh...most emotionally empathetic person in the world, but I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually a mind reader."

The bathroom was silent for a while before the Kid sniffled, voice barely above a whisper when they spoke. "What, you don't have a spell for that?"

"I do, but it's pretty tedious and the ingredients are hard to find." I nudged their foot again and waited until they finally poked those amaranth eyes up to glare at me. "What's wrong, Kid?"

"Nothing!" An obvious lie, judging by the way their voice cracked in the middle of it. I didn't justify it with a response, only waited until they huffed and scrubbed away the tears on their cheeks. "It's stupid."

I shrugged. "Tell me anyway."

It took them a moment, and I knew we were running on precious little time already, but whatever had them so upset felt important. I may not have been good at emotions, but I knew that much.

"This is just weird," they grumbled out, picking at the loose threads of their sweater sleeves with their bright green Christmas nails. "All this...this family stuff? It's weird. I don't know what to do."

"You don't have to do anything." I frowned, resting my chin on my folded arms atop my knees. "The holidays are just to celebrate family, to celebrate magic. You just have to be here, that's all. If you don't like the popcorn or the wreathes or whatever, I can tell Mama. She won't get upset if you don't want to participate—"

"No!" Their voice echoed against the tiled walls and I jumped at the suddenness of it. Their cheeks darkened and they groaned, ducking their head back down to hide. "It's not that. I just…this is a family thing and I’m not-I mean I don’t…I don't know what to do for Tòisich Athru," they finally blurted out.

Oh. "You didn't celebrate it back home?"

Silence rang out again, just as loud as their shout. If I wasn't looking right at them, I might have missed the small shake of their head at my question.

"I wasn't allowed. I...I could see the festivals from my room, but I couldn't go do them." They didn't say why, and I didn't ask. Oh, I wanted to know—my curiosity had always been a greedy thing, clawing for answers where I didn't belong—but the Kid had barely spoken at all about their life back in Aos Sì, and I wasn't about to risk them closing up again. "What if I mess it up?"

My heart twisted at the quietness of their words, the way they shook like I'd never heard their voice shake before. "You won't mess up—"

"But what if I do?"

As quickly as their face disappeared, it was back again, glaring up at me with a righteous sort of anger. Bright pink antennae popped up from their curls, and little tufts of yellow fur tickled at the edges of their face, betraying the glamour that lay atop their natural features.

"Tòisich Athru is for magic," they said. "It-it's to give our magic back as thanks, to refuel the Tapestry so it doesn't run out, but I dunno how to do that! What if-what if I can't do it? What if it doesn't accept my magic? What if I do it wrong and I rip it or-or infect it or something and then the magic dies and it's all my fault? What if Bà Nhi gets upset and doesn’t let me come back again next year? What if I make her mad at you for bringing me? What if-"

"Woah, okay," I interrupted, slightly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. I held out my hands in an attempt to soothe them, but I didn't dare touch. Neither of us were very touchy people, and I certainly didn't want to send them panicking even worse. "First of all, breathe. There you go. In and out."

They sucked in a desperate breath, their fists clenched so tight around their knees that the scars on their hands paled. "But-"

I shook my head and rested my arms limply on my knees. "Kid, you're not going to break magic. Or rip the tapestry, or do any of those other things, I promise. And you certainly aren’t going to make my mother mad at me, or you, for that matter."

"You don't know that."

Ever the stubborn one, they were. "I do, actually. I happen to know a lot about a lot of things. That's why they call me a genius." No one called me that, but the joke got a small twitch from the Kid anyway, so I didn't mind the small lie.

"You're stupid, actually," they grumbled, but their shoulders relaxed and they looked up at me with a hesitant hope in their big eyes. "Are you sure I won't break it? That-that Bà Nhi won’t be upset if I do?"

It struck me then just how young the Kid really was. They reminded me of Lyli when she was their age, still unsure of herself and missing a father she barely knew while our mother worked to support us on her own. I remember reassuring her then too, both of us hiding under the covers to whisper in the darkness where no one else could hear our secrets and our worries.

In a reflection of my own memories, I reached out a fist, pinkie extended. When the Kid only frowned, brows furrowed in confusion, I snorted and took their own pinkie to lock with mine. "It's called a pinkie promise. It's the human way of swearing something, and it's their most powerful promise. Kind of like a sìdhe deal. You can't break a pinkie promise."

The Kid's eyes widened in surprise and their pinkie tightened almost painfully around mine. Like they were afraid I'd pull away before the deal was set.

I tightened my grip in return and offered them the most reassuring smile I could. "You won't break the magic, Kid, and no one is going to get mad at you in the extremely unlikely event that something does happen. Even if they did, which they won’t,” I emphasized, “I’m on your side. Always. Okay? I pinkie promise."

It felt ridiculous. Felt childish and just a little bit like a lie. Pinkie promises weren't nearly as powerful as I made them out to be, not to adults at least, but I could feel the Kid's magic lacing around my finger like an icy river anyway. The intent behind our words mixing together within our magics to create a binding seal regardless of the silliness of the gesture itself.

Their smile was a little less shaky this time, and when I shook our hands between us, it pulled a laugh from them that showed off the small gap in their front teeth.

"Now let's go before Mama hunts us down and drags us out by our ears. We were already late for dinner, best not be late for anything else."

***

Tòisich Athru always left a strange tingle under my skin, an erratic electricity that stung around my core like a downed powerline in a storm. It didn't hurt, quite the opposite actually. It felt right in a way that I hated. A way that reminded me all too much of the place I came from, of the blood that ran through my veins but not my sister's.

It made me feel powerful. It made me feel sick.

This year was different though. This year the normal tingle was colder, softer. Not unlike the first cool breeze at the end of a scorching summer. The promise of fall, of cooler weather. The promise of change and new beginnings.

I wasn't foolish enough to deny what—or rather who—was the reason for this change, but it surprised me all the same.

I'd always been able to feel the magic of my mother and sister when we participated in the Athru rituals together. The ebb and flow of waves that came with my mother's old magic, perfectly mixed with the wild, ever-changing current of my sister's.

My mother was an ocean, all encompassing and eternal. Her core was small, and her access to magic without our father was weak, but she was as deep as the sea and just as beautiful. It was a comfort to let the gentle wave of her magic wash over me during the ritual, a reminder of the other half of where I came from.

Lyli on the other hand was a river, carving her way through the land in search of something new, refusing to let anything get in her way. Yet as all rivers did, she found her beginnings at the sea, always connected and fed by the waters that birthed us.

Now there was something colder there too, in the gentle mix of our magics that we pushed back into the Tapestry for the Athru. The scent of winter on the horizon. The first snowfall, and the cold that bites at your nose. The taste of the flakes you catch on your tongue and the feel of them weighing down your eyelashes.

It was the first time since I'd been in the human realm that I felt my court so deeply. My mother was a warlock—human descended through and through—and Lyli had her father's Spring blood in her. I had always been the outlier. The shock of black ice on the road that you couldn't see coming.

But now there was the Kid. They hadn't told me what court they ran away from, but I could feel the Winter in their bones. Could feel the Night in their magic as it poured into the ritual. It made me feel a little less alone, as ridiculous as that sounded.

"I do not tell you often enough, Meilyr, but I am proud of you."

The sound of my true name sent a shock through my already sensitive system, my mother's words washing against my ankles like a shallow tide when I glanced at her.

I wasn't sure what brought her to say something like that, nor did I dare tell her I didn't deserve her pride. Instead I smiled at her, letting her tuck her hand in the crook of my elbow, an unusually fond gesture for a normally stern-faced woman. "I know you are, Mama. You don't have to tell me more often."

She stared past me, and I followed her gaze back to the young fae curled up on the couch. The Kid had passed out not long after the ritual finished, the Ritual of Return a bit more than they were expecting for their first time. And though they insisted they weren't tired, I'd barely gotten them on the couch before they dropped off to sleep.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d stood there in the doorway of the living room watching them. They’d kicked their blanket off at some point in the night, and their pillow was halfway across the room somehow, leaving them face down with their mouth open, drooling all over my mother’s couch cushion. It was stupidly endearing and I fought back the smile that threatened to spread across my lips at the sight.

“I used to do this same thing when you were younger,” my mother mused, smiling at the Kid’s sleeping form. “When you first came to me, just after you’d turned ten, you were a skittish little thing. Terrified of everything this world had to offer, unsure and unsteady on your new human-shaped legs. I was so excited to finally have you in my arms, and yet I was terrified I would wake up one night and find you long gone. Stolen away to your father’s crystal walls back in Aos Sì.”

The idea that I might have run back to Aos Sì was unthinkable to me, though I supposed I couldn’t blame her for the fear.

Those first few years in Gnáeth, in the human world, were terrifying. I was desperate to prove that I belonged there, to prove that my mother wouldn’t regret taking me in. There was a fear deep in my heart that she might send me back to Aos Sì, that she’d get tired of me or disappointed of me. It only got worse when Lyli was born, a second child there to show I wasn’t needed anymore. A child with my mother’s husband, rather than the man she called my father.

I remembered keeping a packed bag under my bed during those first few months after my sister’s birth, convinced I’d be sent away as soon as they were able. I never was.

“I would check on you every night to make sure you were still here,” my mother continued, drawing me away from the memories and back to the strong grip of her wrinkled hand around my arm. “I’d stand there for hours just watching to make sure you were breathing. To make sure you weren’t an illusion sent to me out of cruelty, or a seelie's attempt at a joke."

A lump formed in my throat and I placed my hand atop hers, squeezing gently. "I didn't know that."

Mama scoffed, waving a hand at me in dismissal. "Of course not. A child should never suffer their parent's fears and worries, your Bà Nguyen taught me that. But just because they do not see it, does not mean we do not suffer it."

Sensing where this was going, I heaved a sigh and shook my head. "Mama, they're not my kid. I just took them in because they needed a place to stay. I'm not—" I paused, the necklace around my throat weighing heavy with the memory of the man who'd raised me, the man who took me in as his own no matter my lack of his genes. He was the picture perfect image of a father. And me? Well… "I'm not father material, Mama."

"Oh? Then why do you stand vigil at the edge of their dreams as if you fear they will disappear the moment you glance away?"

Because I do fear it, said the voice in the back of my head.

I swallowed the words hard, gritting my teeth to keep them caged in my mind where they belonged. I scrambled for a suitable answer. They have nightmares that leave them screaming and thrashing in the night. They're not used to sleeping in a stranger's home. The Belamour is usually here to watch over them.

Though they were all true, I knew none of the answers were the right ones. My mother knew me too well, she always had. For all the emotional capacity I lacked, my mother had in spades. She could read people like I never could, something she blamed on having fáidheanna in her ancestry.

Besides, she was right. The Kid wasn't my kid, but in the past year they'd been with me, they settled somewhere in my heart regardless. Nestled between the spaces I kept Julia and the Belamour, my mother and Lyli. Filling in gaps I hadn't known were there.

"Tòisich Athru is a time for new beginnings," my mother said, squeezing my hand as if in comfort. "We must learn to accept the change the Tapestry brings, as we learn to accept the changing of the seasons, or we will unravel from it completely. Do not let your doubt and fear cloud your journey."

"Mama—"

She turned to me then, pulling my face down to press a kiss to my cheek. "You are doing wonderfully, hoàng tử bé. I am proud of you."

She disappeared down the hall toward her bedroom, and I stared into the dark long after she was gone.

You are doing wonderfully, my little prince.

She must have been blind. Must have seen how much I was floundering in such an unknown situation and taken pity on me. She'd never done so before, but there was a first time for everything.

I glanced back at the Kid and watched as they rolled over, their body teetering on the edge of the couch only moments from falling off completely.

I am proud of you.

I stepped forward and nudged the Kid back onto the couch, tugging the blanket up and tucking them back in. They looked uncharacteristically soft, this close. More at ease and calm than I was used to. Like they knew they were safe enough here to rest fully, even in a house full of strangers.

"Địt mẹ," I cursed under my breath, scrubbing at my face as if it'd do anything to get rid of the strange fondness flooding my throat. I placed a hand on the Kid's curls, muttering a quiet spell to keep their nightmares at bay for the night. "You've made me soft, Kid."

But maybe soft wasn't a terrible thing to be.

The Belamour Archives is a four book urban fantasy series seeded with ancient curses, complicated prophecies, and magical worlds existing right beneath our noses.

The first in the series, Under the Dragon Moon, is currently in beta and scheduled to release in early 2024!

Keep an eye out for more information!