~❦︎~❦︎~

Chapter XII - Mama Bird

~❦︎~❦︎~

Sir Claudius reached out for the blanket, but the tips of his fingers met cold cobblestone instead. He groaned.

Turning over, the hard rocks shifted beneath him, swaddling him up and stealing all the warmth from his body—like a snake swaddling a newborn baby.

The man sat up, then stood on his wobbly feet. The last dying embers of the fire were his only sources of light and heat. He waddled over to the fireplace and held out his pale, bare hands.

His clothes laid on his frozen toes. They were folded rather shoddily. He picked them up and began putting the layers on one by one, covering his silvery, almost scaly, body with black garments. When finished, he slipped on his signature pair of black gloves.

Breathing in and out, he spoke: "Human again," then smiled.

Taking a torch from the wall and leaning down toward the dying fire, Sir Claudius hummed to himself. He turned the torch over and over, roasting the end of the stick until it caught aflame. He blew on it several times, each release of air causing the flame to grow larger. After the torch grew to be full and a luminous ball encircled him, he stamped his boots on the remaining embers from the previous night.

The man traveled out of the dungeons then passed by his room of potions. Typically, once he awoke as a human—when the sun climbed over the ocean and struck the cliffs and castle walls—he would go to his Master bedroom and commence resting. But, the man neither yawned nor rubbed his eyes. Rather, he hummed one of Athena Everleigh's songs. She never quite sang in tune, but her voice was beautiful nonetheless—a baby bird learning how to chirp.

I only hope I didn't make her too uncomfortable… I want to hear her sing again….

Sir Claudius lit the fireplace of the Grand Hall, then sat down in his chair. He picked up his book from the table, the one he had shut the night before, and continued reading. The fireplace crackled away while he hummed the sweet tune of Athena. Athena Everleigh. Miss Everleigh. Athena. Athena.

"Athena…" he whispered. "She knows I'm a dragon." He touched his cheek. "And she… understands that I'm a dragon." He set the book down in his lap and turned his head up toward the ceiling. He slid his arms to the back of his neck, then propped his legs up on the table. "She knows I'm a dragon. Miss Athena Everleigh knows I'm a dragon." He chortled, and the book slipped off his lap.

But the sound of the book slapping the floor was not what startled him that early morning before the birds had even arisen. Four knocks sounded at the door, each one slightly apart from the next—not urgent and rushed like Athena's knocks.

Sir Claudius launched from his chair—he stood straight and tall, hovering over the fireplace. The man squinted, grabbed hold of his torch, and snuck on the balls of his feet to the main entrance.

The four knocks sounded again.

Sir Claudius glanced at the Grandfather Clock: 6 a.m.

He went, faster this time, until reaching the grand doors. Sniffing through the tiny cracks, he shook his head, not recognizing the scent.

The man placed his hands on the door handle, prying it open. Light filtered in through the castle; he squinted.

"Good morning, Sir," a velvet voice greeted.

"Good… mo—morning," he stuttered. Even at 6 a.m., the early morning rays were too much to handle.

"Are you or are you not Sir Claudius?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you or are you not Sir Claudius?"

The man opened his eyes and standing before him—a basket on her arms, the morning rays encasing her frame, her brunette hair flowing in the breeze—was a woman he had never met before… perchance in a dream.

"I… Yes, I am Sir Claudius." He bowed, his matted locks falling over his shoulders. "To what—"

"Good," the woman spoke in Irish Gaelic all of a sudden. "You might remember me by the name of Isolde Byrne."

Sir Claudius gasped, staring the woman directly in the eyes. He then turned on his heels, latching onto the door, although not closing it. Vomit almost spewed out of his mouth before he swallowed.

"Sir… I understand this is rather traumatic, but I need to discuss a serious matter with you. It does not have anything to do with the events of twenty years ago."

"You swear it?" he whispered, his eyes becoming the color of liquid gold, melting off of his face.

"I swear it."

"Why then are you here, Mrs. Byrne?"

"I am now known as Mrs. Charles Everleigh."

Silence echoed throughout the halls.

Sir Claudius stopped breathing, but his heart beat as if he were sprinting—sprinting to release himself from the madness, of the madness of twenty years, of the madness of cobblestone, of the madness of cascading waves beating against cliffs, knowing all along he could not go back and repair the events of twenty years ago, that he was destined to die knowing he would never be able to—

"Athena. Athena Everleigh is your daughter."

"Yes, Sir Claudius. She is my daughter."

~❦︎~

Mrs. Everleigh sifted through the cabinets of the castle kitchens until her fingers reached the black tea kettle. "I can tell my Athena has sorted these. She always sorts the bowls and cups tallest to shortest."

"Really? I—I hadn't noticed…" Sir Claudius called from the kitchen table, squeezing a cup between his palms.

Pulling the tea kettle out of the cabinet, Mrs. Everleigh lit a fire over the stove, poured water into the kettle, and set it over the flame. She then glanced over her shoulder. The man stared at the wall across from his seat. She sighed.

Only a minute or two later, the tea kettle whistled—Sir Claudius nearly jumped out of his seat. Mrs. Everleigh pulled the kettle off the stove and traveled to the kitchen table. She motioned for Sir Claudius to give her his cup several times. The woman soon gave up and poured the flaming water into the cup locked in his grasp. The woman poured her own after that, taking several sips once it cooled.

"How is the tea, Mrs. Everleigh?"

She closed her eyes, feeling the hot herbs and spices tingle her throat. "Delightful, Sir."

"I'm glad. Your daughter picked them while running errands last week."

"I figured. She often asks for this kind of tea, although we never have the money to afford such delicacies."

"Well, now you do." He rubbed his thumbs over the cup handle.

Mrs. Everleigh sat her tea down. "Sir Claudius… I appreciate your generosity toward my Athena and our family, but I do not want the lass to be spoiled."

"If I may, she is the most unspoiled lass I have ever encountered."

"And how many lasses have you encountered, Sir Claudius?"

The man's eyes fell from the wall and into the teacup—as if he were drowning in the circling herbs and spices.

"She is my daughter, Sir Claudius, and I know what is best for her. Generally, I would ask that this 'housework' cease immediately. But," her eyes fell, "the púcaí have spoken."

Sir Claudius knitted his brows and lifted his chin, reading Mrs. Everleigh's face. "The púcaí?"

"Yes. Last night, when Athena opened her present with her father, the two of them attempted to hide it from me. But while Athena was cleaning up after supper, I found the satchel with the book and read it. Although your name was nowhere to be found, your markings were all over it. Your handwriting. Your unmistakable language. Your words so elegantly and delicately chosen. No one in this land can translate like you can, Sir Claudius. No one in this land can write as you can. I suppose… it surprised me because I thought she was telling me the truth all along…. The púcaí never said a word about Athena working for you—which is understandable because I am not meant to know all the púcaí know. I am grateful I do not know all the púcaí know…. But, I thought… she was truly becoming a benevolent daughter, who would never lie or hide secrets from her mother…. I wanted to confront her about it late last night, but I sought counsel from the púcaí instead. And…" Her bloodshot eyes searched Sir Claudius, scouring over his frame. "The púcaí told me they had a plan for you and Athena."

Sir Claudius's eyes caught aflame, as the fire spread all the way from his heart straight to his head. The flames roared around in his stomach, too, and licked his chest and tingled his ribcage. He felt them pounding against his brain—every nerve in his body lit up like small sticks and roots on fire. Mrs. Everleigh reared back, though only out of shock and not fear. He knew what human fear looked like and this was not it. He had seen fear far too many times in their eyes.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Everleigh. It's the dragon in me."

"I can see that," she said, gripping onto her chair.

"A plan? What kind of plan?" he questioned, taking sips of the hot tea to douse the flames.

"I'm not quite sure, Sir Claudius," spoke Mrs. Everleigh, taking sips of her tea for the opposite reason.

"Well, what would they have your daughter and I… do?" His eyes were the most intent and focused she had seen them.

"They want her to continue working here—no immediate changes." Sir Claudius settled, sitting back in the chair and gulping down his tea.

"But I am not the púcaí," Mrs. Everleigh retorted, eyes almost the same color as his. The man clenched his cup once more. "You will not treat my daughter with any more or less respect than any other human being. Just because she is a púca, that does not mean she is your toy or experiment. She will not be your pet that you give money and presents to. Neither will she be your creature to dissect. I know what money and power do to people, Sir Claudius, and I will not have my daughter become a malevolent púcaí for all eternity because of you. Is that understood?" the woman asked with a tone as sharp as the talons of a hawk.

Sir Claudius ran circles with his fingers around his cup.

Yes, Mrs. Ever—

"What makes you believe that I would ever treat your daughter with such a lack of respect?"

Mrs. Everleigh twisted her neck to face him, eyes narrow and pointed like a taloned bird. Her brunette hair framed her heart-shaped face. "Well, naturally, Sir Claudius, I expected anyone would take my daughter's gift and use it to his or her advantage, yet at her disposal. You are merely the first person to ever know about her."

"Why would I want her gift? I have a gift already! And on top of that—gold, potions, a castle, fine china, the whole lot of it!"

"Then you would spoil her!"

"Why would I spoil her?!"

"Because she is young and naïve! She doesn't know about the world! You will use her for your admiration and attention, if nothing else."

Sir Claudius broke apart. All the flames that had been rising died at once. He hung his head.

"There. That is all you ever wanted. A fresh face to look at," the woman spoke, preying on his silence. She sat back in her chair, rustling her feathers, and sipping her tea.

Sir Claudius held his cup between his knees. His black locks covered his twisted, tormented face. "What would you have me do, Mrs. Everleigh?" he asked in a battered, bruised voice.

"Do not tell Athena of what has occurred. She doesn't know I have read your book, nor does she know I visited this morning, understood?"

"Yes."

"Good. And I don't know that she works here, correct?"

"Correct, Mrs. Everleigh."

"Very well then. We are finished here." She left without another word—her teacup on the table, half-empty.