Life After Death

Juliet: baby on the porch

{Juliet}

After the hubbub yesterday, I was looking forward to a quiet, empty house. I had no wayward children, or growing wings, or hospital visits; I could read a book and hope Mikaela would actually come by with cheesecake.

I couldn't imagine being stuck in a place like the Torninc or Vercyne, with all of the children, and noises and politics. I didn't have to impress anyone or raise anyone. Mikaela occasionally commented that I should find someone like Quinn or Westley, but I disagreed. I had enough trouble on my hands with a country to run.

A quiet rapping on the front door interrupted me just as I sat down with tea and a book. It sounded too gentle to be Mikaela, but maybe her hands were full. But I heard rapping once more, a little louder.

"I'm coming," I called, reluctantly setting my mug and book on the table and I stood.

It was my own fault for picking a sitting room so far away from the front door, but I had excellent hearing and the walk though my house was not a hardship.

A third, more hesitant knock sounded just as I was in sight of the door, as if Mikaela was now wondering if I was even home. I wrenched the door open, to see no one.

"My apologies, miss," came a small voice somewhere around my knees. "I believe I am lost."

It was a boy, who couldn't have more than five, holding a baby in his arms. He looked as confused as I felt. His clothes were odd, not from this time at least. He was wearing a crimson tunic and leggings.

"How did you get here?" I asked suspiciously.

He swallowed. "I blinked and was here. This is my sister."

The bundle in his arms opened her sapphire blue eyes. A small golden curl peeked out of her blanket wrapping. She even had little rosy cheeks, damn her. But she closed her eyes once more, asleep.

"And where you were you before?" I questioned further, refusing to get distracted.

The boy looked puzzled. "Before what?"

"Before you were knocking on my door," I prompted.

"I had no 'before'," he insisted. "I...I do not remember any more."

This nameless polite little boy was going to be a problem, I could tell. I was supposed to have a restful day, and this was not my idea of relaxing.

"My name is Juliet. Come inside," I said reluctantly. "Do you need any food?"

"I do not think I am hungry," he said, after looking down and frowning. But if he couldn't remember five minutes ago, that made sense. He followed me into the house, looking around at the décor.

"I'll make some peanut butter sandwiches," I decided. "And then I need to make a call, all right?"

The boy nodded.

"Do you have a name?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I cannot remember."

As I slathered peanut butter on the bread slices, I watched the boy. He sat quietly on the stool, not swinging his feet, not looking bored. He was very calm.

"Do you remember your magic?" I inquired, drizzling honey.

"I am a seer," he replied. "You may still call Mikaela and Adele alone if you want."

For a moment, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I realized I would have asked him if it was all right to leave the room for a moment. He already knew their names now.