Behind Anton, the Assembly seethed at her insolence toward their leader, but she was beyond caring. Mary was gone, along with their chance for happiness.
To her surprise, there was sadness in Anton’s eyes when he spoke again. “On this, we can agree. My vanity would not allow me to accept that my daughter was flawed. That a life I created could be less than perfect. But I have ruled the Assembly throughout these years of our separation and witnessed greed, destruction, lust and the corrupt nature of our kind. I’ve learned to place value on far different qualities. And I can see now…” He crouched down in front of Mary, casting his glow on her corpse. “I can see now that I was the blind one. She is courageous and self-sacrificing. She has given her life on the chance she might save the one she loves.”
“The one she loves is my son,” whispered a voice from the rear of the assembled fae.
Murmurs went up around the hall of the manor as a graceful, golden-haired fairy glided forward, her eyes full of sorrow when looking down on Tucker. On Mary. She was about to speak when a hoarse cry went up. “Farah?” The golden-haired fae’s mouth parted, her eyes searching the congregation of immortals for the sound of the voice. And there, in the center of the audience, a human man removed his red cloak, tears leaking from his eyes. “Farah.”
“Carl.” She pressed a row of knuckles to her lips, emotion swimming in her eyes. Several moments passed before she could speak again. “I must say,” she said in a watery voice. “You are an unlikely presence at this battle for immortal supremacy.”
“You’re telling me,” he choked out, scanning her head to toe, completely oblivious to the shock he’d caused as a human in their midst. “You’re…a fairy? Were you always one?” He broke off, looking down at the stone floor. “Of course you were. I knew. I knew there was something.”
Farah stood trembling. “You have done a wonderful job with our son. Better than I could have done if I’d been able to stay. I couldn’t.” Gravity laced each of her words. “Most of us have a choice between remaining in this realm or our own during an Exodus. I didn’t. I’d lost my sister, you see. I was grieving and wanted to be…gone from everything familiar. I’d made a promise to return in twenty years and claim our family’s council seat and…it couldn’t be negotiated. I tried.” She shook her head. “I was once directionless and you gave me hope, Carl. A family. I wanted to stay forever. Ironically, it was the love that grew inside me for you and Tucker, my understanding of duty and care, that made me all the more worthy to return home in the Exodus. I couldn’t break my promise. I couldn’t stay.”
The human man nodded after a moment, seeming as if he might faint, of all the horrors. “I thought it was aliens,” he said in a burst of laughter and sorrow.
Affection passed between the two very different beings, one immortal, one fragile. But both capable of the same depth of emotion. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see Tucker grow and change.”
An obstructed noise came from the human man. God almighty, the beautiful woman he’d married hadn’t aged a day and there he was with creases upon creases all over his face. “He made himself. He made his own choices and I’m damn proud of him.”
“I checked in on you time to time, but I couldn’t reveal myself. I was on borrowed time from the day we met.” Her lips quivered. “You were right. I was taken in the middle of the night. Just not the way you thought.”
He spread his hands out at his sides, dropping them. “Come back.”
“I can’t.” She floated forward and held out her hand, smiling when Carl did the same and their fingers brushed. “I loved you. You made me happy, Carl, in the short time I was allowed. Now it’s time to make yourself happy.” She glanced down at Tucker. “And someone needs to take care of our son.”
“But he’s gone,” the man managed. “Again.”
“Oh…” Farah’s gathered herself up. “We can take care of that.”
Anton stepped forward, looking slightly impatient over having the focus stolen. “I will reward their bravery by bringing them back exactly as they wish to be,” he said, holding his hands over the bodies of Mary and Tucker. A laugh escaped Anton when he their greatest desire came to him. “How interesting.” Several moments passed before the atmosphere started to hum, a thick, balmy wind traveling slowly through the manor’s ruins and twisting hair, cloaks and dresses in the air.
As the congregation of immortals and humans watched, seizing or maintaining power no longer the most important thing in the face of such unselfish love, Tucker and Mary’s bodies slowly lost their death pallor, bones knitting back together and skin turning healthy once more.