Read Online Strangeness and Charm: The Courts of the Feyre by Mike Shevdon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mike Shevdon
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settling onto the bed. She held her hands out. "Pass him over."
"I've just calmed him down. Give him a moment.
"He's hungry, that's all. Pass him to me."
I gave in and lowered him into Blackbird's arms, whereupon he started crying again, just as I had predicted. Blackbird ignored the yelling and lifted her top, exposing a pale breast before lifting the baby's open mouth to a brown nipple. The crying was muffled for a moment and then subsided into a noisy suckling.
"See," she said. "Hungry."
I humphed and looked away. For some reason the sight of my son locked onto his mother's breast made me uncomfortable. Alex had been bottle fed as Katherine had problems with breastfeeding, not the least of which were several bouts of painful mastitis. Consequently I'd got used to seeing babies bottle fed, taking my turn as it came, but while the sight of my son gulping from Blackbird's swollen breasts was perfectly natural, I didn't feel that it was a spectator sport. Perhaps it was too many years of looking at women's breasts for entirely different reasons.
"Why don't you get some sleep," Blackbird suggested. "You look done in. I won't be long. As soon as he's finished his feed I'll put him back down – he should sleep for a couple of hours at least.
I took her advice, taking a brief shower while she fed the baby and then climbing into bed as she settled him back down. After a few minutes she climbed into bed beside me, sighing with exhaustion as her head hit the pillow.
"Hard work?" I asked.
"No, he's fine. Just a long day."
I rolled over onto my side, watching her stare at the ceiling. "I've been thinking about names," I told her.
"Not again, Niall. Not now," she protested, squeezing her eyes shut.
"A family name might be nice, do you think?"
"The Feyre don't name their babies until after the first halfyear. We've been over this a hundred times. He won't get his name for ages yet."
"It doesn't stop us choosing a name for him," I said.
"It's bad luck to name him early, and if you choose a name you'll start to use it, you know you will."
"I thought the Feyre didn't believe in luck."
"Tradition, then."
"Traditions can change? Neither of us is fully fey. Maybe he should have a name after three months, as a compromise."
"It's just not the way it's done Niall, you must try and understand."
"It seems a strange sort of tradition that won't give a child a name. Katherine had chosen Alex's name almost before she was born and it didn't do her any harm."
"Your son isn't Alex and I'm not Katherine, now turn the light off and go to sleep. He'll be awake in four hours and he'll want feeding again whether he has a name or not."
"It doesn't stop me thinking about it," I said.
"As long as you don't say it out loud." She deliberately made her voice sound more sleepy to discourage further conversation. I rolled onto my back and clicked the light off, staring up into the dark.
James was nice, and it could be shortened to Jim, though I didn't like Jimmy. Perhaps Paul – you couldn't really shorten Paul to anything.
With that thought, sleep claimed me.
The moonlight bled all the colour from the night. The grass looked grey as Alex hurried across the open space. When she reached the shelter of the oak tree she stopped, breathless, looking back where she'd come.
There were no lights on behind her, no alarms rang. She let the glamour concealing her fall away. Then she noticed the outlines of her footsteps were printed across the lawn where the dew had been disturbed. She stared at the prints, and one by one they smudged and vanished, leaving the grass pristine. She turned her back on the house.
Beyond the row of trees it was no longer lawn, but meadow. The grass would be longer but she'd leave less of a trail. Some cows had been allowed to graze the far field. She looked at her trainers and the bottoms of her sweat-pants
"I've just calmed him down. Give him a moment.
"He's hungry, that's all. Pass him to me."
I gave in and lowered him into Blackbird's arms, whereupon he started crying again, just as I had predicted. Blackbird ignored the yelling and lifted her top, exposing a pale breast before lifting the baby's open mouth to a brown nipple. The crying was muffled for a moment and then subsided into a noisy suckling.
"See," she said. "Hungry."
I humphed and looked away. For some reason the sight of my son locked onto his mother's breast made me uncomfortable. Alex had been bottle fed as Katherine had problems with breastfeeding, not the least of which were several bouts of painful mastitis. Consequently I'd got used to seeing babies bottle fed, taking my turn as it came, but while the sight of my son gulping from Blackbird's swollen breasts was perfectly natural, I didn't feel that it was a spectator sport. Perhaps it was too many years of looking at women's breasts for entirely different reasons.
"Why don't you get some sleep," Blackbird suggested. "You look done in. I won't be long. As soon as he's finished his feed I'll put him back down – he should sleep for a couple of hours at least.
I took her advice, taking a brief shower while she fed the baby and then climbing into bed as she settled him back down. After a few minutes she climbed into bed beside me, sighing with exhaustion as her head hit the pillow.
"Hard work?" I asked.
"No, he's fine. Just a long day."
I rolled over onto my side, watching her stare at the ceiling. "I've been thinking about names," I told her.
"Not again, Niall. Not now," she protested, squeezing her eyes shut.
"A family name might be nice, do you think?"
"The Feyre don't name their babies until after the first halfyear. We've been over this a hundred times. He won't get his name for ages yet."
"It doesn't stop us choosing a name for him," I said.
"It's bad luck to name him early, and if you choose a name you'll start to use it, you know you will."
"I thought the Feyre didn't believe in luck."
"Tradition, then."
"Traditions can change? Neither of us is fully fey. Maybe he should have a name after three months, as a compromise."
"It's just not the way it's done Niall, you must try and understand."
"It seems a strange sort of tradition that won't give a child a name. Katherine had chosen Alex's name almost before she was born and it didn't do her any harm."
"Your son isn't Alex and I'm not Katherine, now turn the light off and go to sleep. He'll be awake in four hours and he'll want feeding again whether he has a name or not."
"It doesn't stop me thinking about it," I said.
"As long as you don't say it out loud." She deliberately made her voice sound more sleepy to discourage further conversation. I rolled onto my back and clicked the light off, staring up into the dark.
James was nice, and it could be shortened to Jim, though I didn't like Jimmy. Perhaps Paul – you couldn't really shorten Paul to anything.
With that thought, sleep claimed me.
The moonlight bled all the colour from the night. The grass looked grey as Alex hurried across the open space. When she reached the shelter of the oak tree she stopped, breathless, looking back where she'd come.
There were no lights on behind her, no alarms rang. She let the glamour concealing her fall away. Then she noticed the outlines of her footsteps were printed across the lawn where the dew had been disturbed. She stared at the prints, and one by one they smudged and vanished, leaving the grass pristine. She turned her back on the house.
Beyond the row of trees it was no longer lawn, but meadow. The grass would be longer but she'd leave less of a trail. Some cows had been allowed to graze the far field. She looked at her trainers and the bottoms of her sweat-pants
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