The Magician's Witch

The Healing Powers of Water

Eilis woke late the next morning, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting tantalizingly around her nose, enticing her to rise. She groaned as she turned over, feeling the emptiness next to her. She frowned and opened one eye. Erik's side of the bed was cold, meaning he had been gone for a while. She looked at the clock on the mantle, which read just after 11 in the morning.

Eilis sat up, rubbing her eyes sleepily, yawned and stretched, long unused muscles protesting. She smirked to herself. The room was warm, the fire having been stoked earlier. Erik, regardless of how much sleep he got, was always an early riser, and would often beat the servants to fixing up the fire in his room when they had lived at the palace. Sometimes he would return to bed, and other times he would begin his day, letting Eilis sleep.

Her head snapped up when she heard voices out in the sitting room: Erik, Aria and Ronan were all talking together. She heard the sound of glassware clinking and silverware making contact with plates. Eilis' stomach growled viciously.

"Oh, I seem to have worked up an appetite," she muttered, chuckling. She threw off the covers and stood up, swaying a little as her body caught up with the sudden movement, then strode into the adjoining bathroom, peering at herself in the mirror. She recalled that first morning all those years ago, after Erik and she had spent their first night together. Her lips had been swollen, her makeup was smeared, and her hair had looked as though a squirrel had nested in it. She had sported hickeys and other marks all over her. What stared back at her now was not so dissimilar. She laughed at herself, shaking her head. He peered into the pitcher next to the unused basin-Erik had filled it with water.

"You know me so well," she murmured, pouring water into the basin, and grabbing a washcloth and soap, washing her face. She brushed her teeth and unknotted her hair, pulling it back into a braid, then went back into the bedroom, pulling on jeans and an oversized flannel shirt, wanting to feel cozy this late morning. She threw on some socks last, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

Erik sat on one side of the table, facing Eilis' bedroom door. Aria and Ronan sat opposite him, chatting with him. Erik was holding up one of Aria's drawings, listening to his daughter's explanation of the building structure, the materials she wanted to use, where she wanted to build this structure.

"The problem is getting the proper codes and permits and all that jazz," Aria grumbled. "Getting approval seems to take more time than the actual construction."

Erik chuckled. "That is true enough in this century, so it stands to reason that politics will always play a role, regardless of which era you are building in. When Monsieur Garnier began construction of the opera house, we were dealing with one persuasion of government who approved of the building. Then, of course, we entered a war, and all construction ceased for a year while the conflicting sides sorted themselves out, leaving destruction and devastation in their wake. And then, finally, when the war was over, some in government wanted to either tear it down or convert the opera house into something more utilitarian." He made a face and shivered.

"If it hadn't been for you, the opera house probably wouldn't even exist," Aria said, her voice full of admiration.

Erik smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "I am glad you both finally get to see it in person."

Eilis came up to the table then, catching Erik's eye. She blushed a little as their eyes connected.

"Good morning," Erik greeted her softly, his eyes glinting as he looked her over, noting the subtle swelling of her lips and her shuffling tread. He smirked knowingly at her, making her blush deepen.

Of course, both Aria and Ronan had to turn around right at that moment to see her creeping up behind them.

"Mom, are you feeling warm," Aria asked subtly, her own lips trying to hide a smile.