Something Wicked This Way Comes

Chapter 43

Douxie's whole body spasmed. Arawn clutched his grandchild closer to him, trying to soothe the aches as best he could with his own magic. While growing pains were normal for fae children, they usually didn't occur this late in life, and it was over the span of many months while their horns and fangs grew in—not in the span of several minutes, and not from complete scratch.

His grandson cried out in agony, blood dripping down his face, getting matted in his hair. Long, curving horns were starting now to be visible. Something rippled under the skin between his shoulder blades. Arawn didn't quite know what they were going to do about the tail, but not much could be done against it.

"What is that?" The Claire girl asked, brows furrowed in her worry.

Arawn grimaced. "Wings," he answered simply.

"Wings?" The divine king emphasized. "He has wings?"

"Will," Arawn said, not drawing his arm away when Hisirdoux's sharp nails dug into his skin. If this was all the pain he endured for his wyr, he would take it without complaint. "The royal family have wings."

"You don't." Claire said pointedly.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this right now," Arawn said heavily, not willing right now to explain the way their wings worked.

"What should we do about it?" Jim asked worriedly.

Arawn thought for a moment. It was a toss-up of what kind of wing type his grandson would have inherited. He'd been too young for it to be visible when Arawn had first sealed away his fae-self. And now...

"If they are boned wings, we will have to cut away at the skin to allow them to grow out," Arawn explained. "But he looks as if he's taken after his grandmother, so I'm not sure how necessary that will be."

Jim and Claire exchanged looks. Before either of them could speak, there was a harsh ripping sound, and then long, shriveled wings exploded into existence on Douxie's back with a flash of blue light. Already, they began to unfurl, and Arawn would admit the spark of joy in his heart at seeing how much Douxie had truly taken after Rhodysa. The wings were long, and already getting larger, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

There was a gasp of relief from the boy in his arms. He stopped shaking, only slightly. Arawn wiped some blood off his temple.

As the moth-like wings began to unfurl, the color started to take. Arawn wasn't surprised to see they were a deep blue, the crest of the fore wings were black, tracing intricate designs over the canvas-like body. The tail of the hind wings dragged on the ground, with how large the wings in their entirety were turning out to be. Arawn wasn't particularly surprised. Faeries who inherited insect-like wings always had the largest, otherwise flying would be nearly impossible.

"I think he's almost done," Arawn said softly, watching Douxie's ears twitch as he came back to his senses.

"Thank the gods," Jim breathed, having still a hand on Douxie's shoulder firmly. He eyed the wings, and the horns, then flit his gaze to Arawn's tail. "What are we going to do about that?"

"I'll have the tailors fix his clothing before anything else," Arawn said, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Douxie started uncurling. He could see the boy's dragon again, still purring against his chest. "Hisirdoux?"

Though his eyes were closed, Arawn could tell the worst was over. His wyr groaned in a small acknowledgment, tucking Archie into his arms. "Everything fucking hurts."

"I know," his grandfather told him softly. He kissed the side of Douxie's head, not caring much about the blood. "Take a moment to get used to the changes. I will leave you in the care of your friends, while I take care of the clothes."