The Iron Witch by Karen Mahoney Page B

whorls and curves; curls that extended down to her wrists, and then across the backs of her hands and down each finger. If you looked quickly, there was the illusion that her hands and arms were made of metal—it was only when you looked properly that you realized a delicate pattern enclosed her flesh.
    What people wouldn’t know was that the marks were the result of magical wardings branded not just onto the surface of Donna’s skin, but inside as well. There had been operations when she was a child, magical operations that she chose not to think about. Not because there had been pain at the time, but because of the strange cold metal that now encased her bones. Maker might be a master craftsman, but Donna sometimes had a hard time appreciating his work when it made her feel so cold .
    But this strange beauty was part of her now, forever. Her skin never itched or tanned under the sun, or scalded if the water was too hot.
    Xan didn’t say a word for what felt like a lifetime. Donna swallowed hard and forced herself to look at him as he drank in the sight of her. He was transfixed by the shimmering silver spirals that wound around her wrists and up toward her elbows.
    His eyes shone brighter than ever as he looked at her. “I knew there must be a reason that I met you. You’re like me. You understand .”
    Donna couldn’t help a small, sad smile. “And you understand me, too.” She pulled on her gloves again, concentrating on the task so as not to see the warmth in Xan’s gaze. There was a buzzing sound in her ears and she felt lightheaded.
    “Thank you,” Xan said, his voice grave.
    “For what?”
    “For trusting me.”
    Donna shrugged awkwardly as silence fell between them again, making her wonder if she had just made a terrible mistake. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind ? As she contemplated the state of her sanity, the silence stretched and took on a new quality. It felt loaded with something heavier—somehow more real—and Donna wasn’t sure she wanted to let the moment unfold. She shifted uncomfortably.
    “I still don’t know what to say to you, Xan.” She nibbled at her lower lip. “I mean … my life has had some pretty strange things in it, but up until now a guy with wings wasn’t one of them.”
    “I don’t have wings anymore,” he said, his voice hollow.
    “Sorry, I just … ” She shook her head, unable to continue. What could she say? She forced a smile. “Don’t tell me you’re some kind of fallen angel, please. Because, you know, I don’t think I could handle that.”
    Xan barked out a short laugh. “You mean you could handle something else?”
    “I don’t think I believe in angels, that’s all. And if you were one, that would mean I’d have to re-evaluate my beliefs. I’m not quite ready to do that.”
    “You’re in the clear, Donna Underwood. I’m certainly no angel.” A smile spread slowly across his face.
    She laughed, a strained release of tension more than anything else. “Phew.”
    They stood in silence for a moment longer.
    But Donna couldn’t help herself. She had to say it. “So, you’re fey, then.” Because really, what else could he be?
    He started, surprise in his eyes, then something that looked a lot like relief. He drew in a shaky breath. “Only half.”
    “Half fey.” She nodded, confirming something to herself. Of course, she knew that there were half-fey beings walking among humans. Apart from the interspecies mating that must have happened over the course of centuries, even before the faeries had left this world for good, there were the small numbers of solitary fey left behind. So it wasn’t inconceivable that there would be some half-faery kids wandering around, hidden among their human cousins. But she had never imagined that any of those children would have actual wings .
    Or should have had wings. Her throat constricted with sorrow; sadness for what Xan had lost, but also for how alone he must feel. Her eyes flickered to the clock