“Merlin’s tits,” he said quietly, “how long have I been like this?”
“Oh, Blessing.” Mallory patted his shoulder but Robin didn’t risk looking at her until he’d blinked some of the sting from his eyes.
He reached up, feeling the ends of his at least clean curls. His hair was too long. He imagined he was eerily pale as well, since he had no memories of summer.
Robin had no memories of summer.
He took a breath. It must not have sounded good, because Mallory snapped, “Water for tea,” to Persephone and then led Robin to the kitchen chair and made him sit.
“Very silly of me to make plans when I can’t even buy a new jar of lotion or remember to use it,” Robin remarked, mostly to himself. “I was thinking of…” No, he’d better not say what he’d been thinking of. Not to Lucas’ mother.
The side door opened, revealing Lucas on the steps, the ravens upset and hollering behind him.
“It’s fine,” Robin told Lucas immediately, because of course, Lucas’ gaze came right to him. “Just slapped in the face once again by how much I’ve neglected.”
“Depression is like that,” Persephone assured him, or maybe Lucas, since Lucas hadn’t said a word. “I’ve been reading about it. Burnout too.”
“Well, that’s mortifying.” Robin exhaled, then shook his head. “It really is fine. Don’t mind me.”
Mallory coughed, and when Lucas briefly looked to her, said, “We’re getting him a nice cup of tea, real tea, if decaffeinated. And then we’re going to feed him cake and gossip. Lisabeth Hawthorne stopped me at the gas station this morning,” she added that to Robin, then waved Lucas away. “Go on. I’ll talk with you in a bit. Let Rixon burn off some energy. It’s like the more he’s outside, the more enthusiastic he gets.”
“A-ha!” yelled one of the ravens. It must have been Flint’s mate, because Flint started a series a clicking sounds right as Lucas shot Robin one last concerned, frowny look, then closed the door again. He must have forgotten why he’d been coming in in the first place.
“Always frowning,” Robin complained to the door. “Though the milkshake made him smile a little.”
Mallory gave Robin a study deep enough to make him fidget. “Persephone, my dearest,” she began without turning.
“Oh no,” her daughter answered as if “my dearest” was an alarm of some kind. “What is it?”
“Nothing!” Mallory was bright. “But did you remember to actually bring in your things for Lucas and Blessing with the food, or is all that still in your car?”
Persephone twitched at the reminder. “At least it’s not hot out, so nothing should have melted. Back in a sec.”
Before Persephone had probably even reached the front door, Mallory was speaking in a voice not meant to be overheard. “So, you’re taking care with him?”
Robin glanced toward the closed side door. “I’m trying.”
Mallory nodded. “Good. He needs to feel useful and I’d like him to be wanted.”
Robin could not catch his breath for a moment. “Why wouldn’t he be wanted?”
Mallory moved back toward the counters, pulling a mug from the cabinet and then getting the box of tea. “When you can call down what you please and know omens when you see them, very few are strong enough to want you around. But you have always been a blessing, exactly as they named you. I remember when you showed up, I was figuring out how to parent, and your grandparents came over to ask me what children needed these days…. They were so worried about their little Blessing. You were important and they knew it, and they weren’t sure they could give you what you needed. I suppose most parents feel that way, but all of them had had children leave, or die, or never had children, and they were determined to get things right with you. I did what I could. I think you got some of Gwynn’s old toys and books. I drove you and Lucas to kindergarten together, if you remember that.”
Robin didn’t, not really, and shook his head.
“I just didn’t have time to have you over more, or to bring him and the others over here as much as we probably should have. But you were still loved, and you were taught what you needed. And truly, you were so loved.”
Robin cleared his throat several times.
Mallory gave him a moment by dealing with the tea. After a pause, she got a cup for herself as well. “Honey? Sugar?”
Robin had gotten a sugar cube in his tea when he’d been little. They didn’t make sugar cubes anymore. Not that he could find in the supermarket, anyway.
He shook his head again. “Nothing for now, thank you.”
Mallory brought over the mug. “Now, your Yule plans. You are welcome at the revels, if you care to go. And you’re welcome at our house as well, but I have a feeling that large gatherings might take a lot out of you in your current state. You could spend the night, if that would make it easier. But maybe you should take the day off—a true day off—stay here with your family, and do nothing except comforting, familiar things that would honor them. We’ll get you a nice log. You can have candles as well, and prepare whatever foods you’re used to. Have some wine?” she suggested. “Toast those who are gone and those who are about to go. Anything is possible. Have you thought about what you might prefer?”
“No.” At the moment, Robin couldn’t even plan ahead a few hours. “I have to wrap and deliver some things to town tomorrow. I could risk another trip to the store… to get what, I have no idea.” He thought of what he’d just witnessed in his kitchen. “I’m not sure I could handle a party.”
