2
FENELLA
The Hobbit was packed, and it buzzed with energy. Every table was occupied, with standing room only at the bar.
Fenella spun a Guardian's fountain pen between her fingers, letting the performance build as the crowd leaned in with anticipation. It seemed like every immortal in the village wanted one more reading before she left in less than a week.
"This pen," she announced, holding it up to catch the light, "has a secret."
"Don't they all?" someone called out, earning scattered laughter.
"Oh, but this one is special." Fenella closed her eyes, making a show of concentration, and suddenly she felt it—a genuine flash of emotion from the object. Loneliness. Distance. The image of a smiling, beautiful woman with loving eyes. Not a lover, though, that wasn't the energy she was sensing.
A mother.
Morrison, the Guardian who'd handed her the pen, shifted uncomfortably.
"To your mother," Fenella continued, the real impression blending seamlessly with her performance. "You write every week, telling her about your life here, but you leave out all the exciting parts because you don't want her to worry."
Morrison's jaw dropped. "That's exactly—how could you possibly?—"
"But here's the thing." Fenella rode the wave of genuine psychometry while adding her theatrical flair. "The pen is getting frustrated. It wants to write the truth. It's tired of editing out all the exciting bits. 'Dear Mother,'" she affected a deep voice, supposedly the pen's, "'Today I fought three Doomers before breakfast. You should have seen me, Ma. I was magnificent.'"
The crowd roared with laughter, but Morrison's eyes had gone soft. "I do miss her," he said quietly, just loud enough for Fenella to hear over the noise.
"I bet your mother misses you, too," she said, dropping the performance for a moment. "Perhaps you should take some time off and go visit your mum." She handed the pen back.
"Thank you," he mouthed before melting back into the crowd.
"Who's next?" Fenella called out, shaking off the emotional residue. These authentic glimpses were becoming more frequent, and she wondered if her ability was growing naturally or if the brooch was amplifying it. "Come on, don't be shy. Only five more nights to discover what your belongings think of you!"
From his corner table, Din caught her eye and raised his glass in a salute. His laptop was open, and he was supposedly grading final exams from his students, but he couldn't possibly concentrate with all this noise. His attention never strayed fromher for long, those intense eyes of his tracking her movements with a mixture of pride and possession that made her happy and irritated at the same time.
Being a woman was complicated.
On the one hand, Din's possessiveness excited her, heating her blood and making her want him, but on the other hand, she didn't want to be possessed, not even by a male who loved her and would fight dragons for her.
Fenella wasn't a damsel in distress, and she'd been taking care of herself for a long time without Din's help. Come to think of it, perhaps she'd been lucky rather than unlucky. If Din had stayed around and they had become a couple fifty years ago, she would have been spared all the misfortunes that she'd endured, but she would have also missed out on the adventures and all the good times she'd had. She wouldn't have discovered her strength and become so fiercely independent.
In a way, he'd done her a favor by acting like an ass and walking away, because otherwise she wouldn't be the woman she was now.
She blew him an air kiss and mouthed, "I love you."
Din pretended to catch the kiss in his fist, and the grin that spread over his face transformed him from handsome to irresistible. "I love you," he mouthed back.
They'd been saying it a lot, but each exchange still sent a thrill through her. After her resistance had finally cracked and her fear of connection had been conquered, she couldn't imagine a day without telling Din how strongly she felt about him.
"My turn!" A guy pushed forward, holding out his wallet.
Fenella recognized him. Garrett was a Guardian, and he was a shameless flirt. He'd been hitting on her all evening long despite knowing that she was with Din.
"Let's see what secrets your wallet holds," she said, taking the leather billfold. She didn't feel much of anything. Some wallets were like that—too new, too impersonal. But she could work with that.
"Your wallet is having an identity crisis," she announced. "It's practically empty, which makes it question its purpose in life. 'Am I a wallet,' it asks itself, 'or am I just a flat leather decoration?'"
"Hey!" Garrett protested as the crowd laughed. "I have money!"
"Three dollars and an expired coupon for frozen yogurt don't count," Fenella continued. "Your wallet is considering running away to find a Guardian who doesn't spend it all on drinks."
