The Price of Colors

I’m always the first one up, but by the time I get home from my morning run and training, I can hear Yuabrin and Aethel moving around upstairs. I can also smell coffee, so I head straight to the kitchen to pour myself a cup. I linger in the kitchen as I drink my first cup, wondering if Yuabrin’s going to make breakfast. He’s still learning how to cook, but he’s mastered bacon and eggs the way I like them, at least.

About halfway through my coffee, Aethel comes down into the kitchen, colorful make up over half his six-year-old face, the pastel colors matching his hair and somehow making the glow in his eyes look even brighter – which is the exact opposite of what I need.

“What the hell are you wearing?” I ask, remembering too late to check my language. Aethel blinks in confusion and looks down at his clothes, which are his usual jeans and t-shirt. “Not your clothes, on your face.”

“Papa did it, like on his arms,” Aethel says. Part of me wants to laugh. Yuabrin uses body paint to cover his scars. The only thing that has in common with Aethel’s make up is that both have colors. Although I guess the wing design spreading out from the side of his left eye makes it a little more similar. I sigh – this is not what I needed this morning.

“Where is he?” I top off my coffee. Aethel points towards the stairs. I go up to find Yuabrin dressed and sitting at my desk, the chair pushed back to give him more room to prop his foot up on the chair and his arm on his knee as he paints on it. Covered in scars, he normally wears long sleeves to hide them, but often he’ll wear short sleeves and paint designs and images to cover the scars instead.

“Good morning,” he looks up and smiles at me. That alone almost makes me change my mind about this conversation. But Aethel has naturally pale pink hair and bright blue eyes that have a ring of light in the center and three pairs of small wings on his back, and that’s not even including that he can turn into a damn wolf. We’re already walking an extremely thin line between discovery and secrecy, and a six year old boy wearing make up just sounds too much like something that could push us over the edge and ruin everything I’ve done to get these two out and keep them out.

His smile falters. “What’s wrong…?” he asks hesitantly.

I don’t know how to start this conversation. I don’t even want to have it. I remind myself that it’s necessary and end up just saying, “You put make up on Aethel,” feeling stupid that all I can do right now is point out the obvious.

“He…wanted me to.”

I sigh, “I know, but it draws too much attention. We still need him to look as normal as possible.” I cut his hair short so it could hide under a hat, he wears baggy clothes to hide his wings, he wears sunglasses and keeps his head down any time he goes out, and he never shifts to his wolf form unless he’s inside and all the blinds and curtains are closed. I’ve done so much to keep him hidden, to keep them both safe.

Silence stretches between us. Yuabrin’s not painting anymore, just staring blankly down at the floor. I can tell he’s trying not to cry, and I hate myself for breaking his heart like this. I close my eyes, realizing this is the bridge I’ve been trying to avoid crossing ever since I helped Yuabrin and Aethel escape. It’s been almost a year. Maybe that’s been too long, but it doesn’t feel like nearly long enough now.

“I’m sending you both to Stars Island,” I tell him, opening my eyes. If I’m going to do this, I’m not going to let myself hide from it. Yuabrin’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and wet.

“Sending us…?” his voice cracks. Maybe I should have spiked my coffee with burbon or taking a shot of whiskey or something before doing this.

“You’ll be safe there. Both of you, and Aethel won’t have to hide anything if he doesn’t want to. Not his wings, not his eyes…he’ll even be able to grow his hair back out if he wants.” If he wants but I already know he does. He cried the day I cut his hair, and I hated myself for that too. When the hell did I turn into such a sap? I don’t bother pointing out that Yuabrin wouldn’t have to hide his scars on the island either, because I know it’s his own choice to hide those and has nothing to do with maintaining any image or secret.

“You’re…not going to come with us?”

“I’ll visit. I’ll…I’ll take you there, get you set up in a house, get you both settled in. But then I have to come back. I can’t leave, not permanently.” Even as I say it, I know it’s too little. I don’t want to just leave him there, either of them, but they’ll be safe and free there. That’s the whole point of Stars Island, and I know Seeker will look after them.

“I-I won’t put make up on him anymore,” Yuabrin pleads, the tears finally falling. I haven’t seen him cry in almost a year, and knowing I’m the cause of it this time is ripping me apart. I kneel down in front of him, taking his hands.

“It’s not just about the make up,” I tell him, even though I’m pretty sure he already knows. “You will both be so much happier there. Aethel will be able to go outside whenever he wants. He’ll be able to go to school and make friends.” He’s young enough that it’s been easy to keep him out of school so far, but now that I say it, I realize that would end soon. “You’ll be able to make friends. The people there are…they have magic, like you do.”

I try to think of something else to convince him it’s for the best, that he’ll be happy there, anything to make him stop crying, but for the first time in my life, I can’t think of any argument. I give up and just pull him into my arms. I don’t want to do this any more than he does, but I need to keep them safe. This is the only option, I remind myself, over and over again.