A Clover and a Bee

“Morrigan, Tide,” Aletheia spreads her arms and smiles widely, “I appreciate you heeding my summons so late into the evening.” “We have business to discuss--no need for pleasantries.” “Pleasantries--” “With all due respect, Your Grace, we were told that you would be sending the girl to the mortal realm, and we would no longer be responsible for her,” Morrigan snaps, “what is she doing back in Faefall?” Morrigan’s cruel eyes focus on the changeling girl, who is happily at play with Bjorn. “Our would-be son’s parents came to claim him, and I decided--” “Decided to what? Renounce our oath?” “Patience, Morrigan--we will resolve this.”

Dominic stares at the child. She stares back. Their eyes remain locked until Lark speaks. “Thanks for coming,” Lark says, “I didn’t know who else to call.” “No problem,” he says absently, “so you found her in Bjorn’s crib?” Lark nods. “I looked everywhere for him,” her voice cracks as she holds back a sob, “but I can’t find him.”  Lark kicks at the floor. Her eyes are puffy and red, her cheeks tear streaked.