13. THE FEAR OF DISAPPOINTMENT
Chapter thirteen
THE FEAR OF DISAPPOINTMENT
Ornella
D espite the fact that Sage’s portal was bigger than the one Ciaran had made the night before, it still took most of the day for the village to cross through it. A dreadful urgency had besieged the aes sídhe while we were anticipating the Fuath to attack. But that chaotic desperation had been replaced by a deep sorrow after the battle, and it made them move even slower.
Thankfully, Ciaran was able to channel power to Sage, so my anam did not begin to show any signs of weariness until late in the day when the end of the line was in sight. And there was so much to do in helping to direct and guide the aes sídhe through his portal that I was able to mostly keep my mind away from all my dark concerns. Away from the morbid curiosities.
Like what it would look like if a world collapsed.
“Ornella!” called a familiar voice, and I turned to see Asha approaching quickly. I smiled at Sage’s mother with immense relief. It felt like it had been days since I’d last seen her when it had only been a night.
Before I could speak, the aes sídhe Sua had thrown her arms around me. “Thank you,” she said fiercely, and my heart gave a painful throb, emotion aching in my throat.
I parted from her reluctantly after a moment, trying to swallow the emotion, but I knew I was doing a poor job. Tears crested my lashes, my mouth warbled, and I had to fight for every steady breath as she kissed my forehead. When she straightened away from me, I saw Shay and Verin were standing behind her with Rory strapped to the front of the tall, auburn-haired male. Shay cradled a tiny bundle I knew instinctively was the baby she’d birthed.
“You should be resting! Are you in pain?” I blurted at Shay whose brows rose in surprise.
“I have been resting all morning. I am alright now,” she said quietly with an uncertain glance at Verin who had an arm around her and his other wrapped around Rory. “Ornella, I must thank you—”
“There is no need,” I interrupted, knowing this would be as painful for her as it would be for me. Shay hadn’t liked me from the moment she set eyes on me. I still had no idea why, but I wanted her forced and ingenuine gratitude even less than that of all the other villagers.
“Then I must apologize,” Shay insisted a little more firmly, shocking me, since I had not gauged her to be a female who apologized to anyone. “I have not been kind or fair to you. I had a quarrel with my brother that I did not feel I could bring to him yet, and I foolishly laid it at your feet instead. I would like you to know that I do not harbor any ill will toward you.”
I felt defensive of my mate and was tempted to ask about the quarrel she had with him. It seemed strange to me that she hadn’t wanted to confront him since Sage was always so approachable to me, but I forced myself to nod. Unsure how else to respond to her apology, I removed my glove and reached for her arm. Shay was understandably hesitant but allowed me to slip my cold fingers under the cuff of her outer jacket. She allowed me to press the tips of my fingers to her pulse where I allowed my magic to seep into her and the baby to help strengthen him too.
Shay gave a soft gasp and tensed in discomfort when her body healed abruptly, and then her mouth opened as she looked up at me in astonishment. I forced a smile to my lips before I turned away and nodded to Asha.
“Shay—” Verin began to ask his mate.
“She healed me!” I could hear her gasping in shock. “Verin, the pain is gone !”
I did not hear whatever response he made before I had moved too far from them and focused on checking the last of the heavily laden carts in the line.
“He told you not to do that,” said a familiar voice that made me immediately roll my eyes without even turning in his direction.
“And I’m sure he probably told you not to talk to me, yet here you are!” I pointed out as Ciaran fell into stride next to me while I walked along the line.
“He said not to accost you. You may not be able to perceive the difference in civil and uncivil conversation, but there is one,” he retorted.
“Do you not have enough to occupy you right now without spying on me?” I demanded, trying to quicken my strides and lose him. He merely adjusted his long-legged steps to stay right beside me even though I kept my eyes on the aes sídhe villagers and away from him.
“Why did you heal her?”
“Go away,” I growled at him in exasperation.
“I will go away when you’ve answered my question,” Ciaran informed me doggedly.
“What is your issue with it exactly?” I snarled at him furiously, stopping abruptly to spin back in his direction. “Would you really rather that I let her suffer even though I could help her?”
“You have had opportunities to heal our people before and always opted to keep the ability to do it to yourself,” Ciaran pointed out.
I narrowed my eyes at him, ignoring the fact that the massive male absolutely towered over me as I stepped forward threateningly. He stepped back.
“I sincerely hope you are not under the delusion that you may attempt to tell me when I can and cannot choose to use my magic,” I warned.
“Merely making an observation,” he assured me.
“Good for you, but I’m fresh out of fucking gold stars, so why don’t you just keep your unasked for observations to yourself?” I suggested. I could tell he was confused by the human reference to gold stars, one that I didn’t even understand myself, before I stomped away from him.
“You do not like to be thanked, and yet you insist on helping others,” he said, catching up to me easily.
“Shit, I am going to kill him after all,” I muttered to myself in English so he would not understand.
“You cannot fault me for wondering why you suddenly have a conscience when our suffering never moved you to expose these gifts before,” Ciaran insisted in frustration.
I stopped and turned to him before he could react and slammed my hands into his stomach. The pulse that I sent through him was pure adrenaline and more than enough to make his heart feel like it was beating out of his torso.
Ciaran gasped, his hand clutching over his chest as he sank to his knees before me. Grass and shrub roots ripped themselves out of the frozen earth and grabbed his arms and legs so he could not move as I leaned over him.
“Keep. Pushing. See what it gets you,” I invited him, and I raised a hand between us as lethal claws lengthened on the hand I’d just used to heal Shay.
Ciaran’s breath sawed in and out of him, but he was a warrior who was used to having control of himself in the midst of battle. He quickly got his heart to settle and knelt silently glaring at me, tabby orange eyes glinting in the late afternoon sun. He could have used his fire magic to burn through the brittle roots I had used to restrain him, but he seemed unwilling to get into a full altercation. Probably because of all the eyes that I could feel watching us while the whispers began to grow louder.
I didn’t care. I could eat their food, wear their clothes, defend their vulnerable with my teeth and claws, with my magic and my blood, and I would never be one of them. I’d learned that the hard way many times.
“Sage says that riders do not fight in front of others,” Ciaran said, surprising me. “We present a united front.”
I glanced up and saw that we were close enough to the front of the line that Sage could see.
“Then maybe don’t pick fights with me,” I suggested to Ciaran who scoffed in response.
“I am not picking a fight! I just wanted to understand. You are the one getting defensive!” he objected.
“You may not perceive a difference between being respectful and confrontational, but there is one,” I advised him, smugly parroting his insult from earlier back at him.
Ciaran merely narrowed his eyes, and then he closed them with a grimace as if he were listening to something rather unpleasant. And I smirked when I realized he was probably getting an earful from Sage down their bond.
“ Fine ,” he bit out between his teeth, opening his eyes to glare up at me again. “Let me up, dryad.”
I swayed on my feet, tempted to simply walk away and let him free himself. But Sage would see. His people were scared, they were under attack from monsters, and they were looking to the Wild Hunt. I might not yet be a rider, and Ciaran was completely insufferable, but I did know that it was important to present a unified front.
So, I grudgingly compelled the roots to release Ciaran and even held out my hand. He hesitated, eying the offer like he’d rather cut off my arm than touch me, but he refrained from further hostility for the same reasons I had released him. He grabbed me, our forearms crossing over one another as I hauled him up to his feet.
“I only wanted—” he began, but I dropped his arm and turned away before he could finish.
I was surprised to see our vargr were also bristling at each other during our confrontation. Pyrope broke away from facing down Ciaran’s gold mount right away and trotted after me. Luckily, the prick did not pursue me this time as I stormed toward the front.
I saw Sage standing next to his beautiful portal at the front of the line. The centre rippled like the surface of a pond after every fey passed through. The oval, outer rim swirled with a frosty, red-and-gold mist like there were autumn leaves caught in a current. As I grew near, I could smell nutmeg and chrysanthemums wafting from it.
Sure enough, Sage was frowning in disappointment at me when I reached him, so I decided I was done taking criticism from everyone for one day. Once I was sure that he was still channelling safely, his magic wasn’t becoming too taxing for him, I opted to go through the portal and see what use I could be to the people on the other side.
I was not sure what I expected when I stepped through the portal to the late season settlement, but it certainly was not the confines of a dry ravine.
I tipped my head back in surprise, staring up in awe at the tall cavern walls on either side of me. The ravine was wide enough for two or three yurts across it with ample space around them for family fires. It extended on either side for as far as I could see, meaning the village would be spread out thin but perfectly shielded from the coming late season snow. An old forest encroached above, and I knew the evergreen trees would act as wind breakers against wind and squalls.
It would not be defensible, but at least there was lots of warmth emanating from the earth around me.
Someone was coming through the portal behind me with a cart, so I moved aside and got to work helping the nearest fey set up their tents. Those who had come earlier seemed to have been cooking all day to feed those of us still working, and the scent was comforting. Familiar.
I stayed as close to Sage’s portal as I could so I would know when he was done, and less than an hour after I’d come through, I heard a cheer. I looked up in time to see the portal’s gleam suddenly extinguished, but there were too many fey and tents to see Sage. But knowing he was near and safe was enough to settle my nerves.
And it was not long before he located me.
I did not look up, but I sensed him when he began to help me unload a cart into a yurt. I could see him in the corner of my eye as we worked in companionable silence.
“Are we not speaking?” he asked after a few moments, and I hesitated to glance up at him in surprise.
“I didn’t say that,” I said before lifting a trunk out of the cart to be carried inside.
“You haven’t said anything ,” Sage pointed out as he followed behind me with a large cooking cauldron.
“I am just very busy helping,” I objected, forcing an exasperated tone.
“You can barely look at me. Does this have to do with you making a fool of Ciaran in front of everyone?”
“He was being rude!” I defended myself, shooting him a glare on my way back by him to the cart outside.
“I have no doubt.”
“And you were mad at me,” I added, citing the true source of my agitation.
“Yes, I do occasionally have emotions,” Sage assured me in evident amusement.
I huffed in aggravation at his flippant comment as I got to the cart again. I tried to focus on stacking as many of the smaller baskets in my arms as I could, but he leaned on the cart near me and lightly touched my elbow. It was not a demanding prod but a gentle bid for my attention.
“What?” I growled, looking up at him in annoyance, but he appeared more sombre, watching me closely with those perceptive purple eyes.
“I can be mad and still care about you,” he assured me, and my brows shot up in shock that he had recognized the fears that were gnawing on me. “I can become frustrated, even angry with you, and it will never mean that I have stopped caring,” he reiterated when he saw my reaction.
I was stunned and could not speak for so long that he eventually took the baskets out of my hands and put them back on the wagon. I just stared up at him in uncertainty of how to respond to his declaration as he leaned against the cart next to me again and waited.
“I am not… aes sídhe,” I whispered finally.
“I am aware. What does that have to do with—”
“I won’t ever be… like you,” I tried to explain, but he tilted his head as if he did not understand. “I am not good at doing the right thing when I’m mad or hurt. I’m not good at relationships or fitting in, and I don’t want you to have expectations of me that I am just not able to fulfill. And I really don’t want…” I breathed in deeply when my voice hitched. “Sage, I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He looked surprised for a moment before he composed himself and then looked down at the ground between us while he contemplated my admission. He was quiet for so long that I was nervous I had said too much.
“I am… flattered, Summer. But I don’t always know what to do. And the gods know I certainly don’t always do the right thing either,” Sage assured me finally as he raised his eyes to mine again. He hesitated again, and I thought there might be something more he wanted to say, but he held it back. “I know how it feels to be afraid that you will not measure up to someone else’s expectations,” he said instead. “It is as if the fear of their disappointment becomes a shackle that binds you to their vision for you. That is not something I want you to feel from me, so I am sorry if I put pressure on you. My grandfather said—”
Sage trailed off as if rethinking whatever he was about to tell me, so I grabbed his arm impulsively.
“What did he say?” I asked him, unable to deny a deep craving for more of his secrets.
“He always told me the expectations others take upon themselves to fabricate for you are of no consequence. Unless you allow them to matter,” Sage finished with a fond smile as he recalled what must have been a happy memory of his grandsire.
“Your expectations matter to me,” I blurted, taking us both off guard this time.
I wanted to look away from him out of embarrassment, but his eyes strayed to my ears. I couldn’t help watching him assess the way they flattened in a helpless betrayal of my nervousness. Having my emotions exposed like that had always been agitating to me, but watching Sage cue his reaction based on them was oddly comforting.
“Then what expectations do you think I have to which you are unequal?” he wanted to know.
“I… don’t know. For me to be more patient. Rational. Helpful. Kind,” I answered with a shrug.
Sage grunted thoughtfully, mulling over my admission for a moment.
“So is it my unconditional approval that you want or do you see value in those expectations?”
I knew the answer right away, much as I hated it, so I hesitated for a long time before I answered.
“I see the value,” I admitted softly, lowering my eyes.
I was surprised when Sage stepped closer and reached up to gently tap the underside of my chin with his knuckle to bring my gaze back up to his.
“If you find value in the qualities you listed then allow that to be your incentive to aspire to them rather than the approval of anyone else,” he urged me.
I wanted to explain that I had no other reason to want those things other than to please him, but I already knew it was the wrong thing to say, so I held it back.
“Your grandfather sounds like he was a wise man.”
“He was,” Sage assured me, lowering his hand from my face and giving me another of those fond smiles.
“Why did he tell you all of that about the expectations of other people?” I wanted to know.
“Because I wanted to join the Wild Hunt and travel the Four Courts while my parents wanted me to mark Orlaith and settle down to start a family. They were dismissive of my intentions and disappointed in me for going through with them for years. It was only after my grandfather died that they finally came to… understand,” he revealed.
“Really?” I gaped in shock. It was difficult for me to imagine Carrick and Asha being anything less than fully supportive of their son.
“They have learned that success doesn’t look the same for me as it does for Shay. And I learned to find initiative independently of anyone else,” Sage continued, shrugging one shoulder as he crossed his arms. I knew that we were talking about me again even before he said, “I know you have been hurt in the past by people who were supposed to protect you, and you feel like you’re not good at being close to other people. But I intend to make sure that no one hurts you like that ever again,” he assured me softly. “So you are free to try , Summer. And I might get angry or frustrated from time to time, but it is only because I am also learning. It does not mean I don’t care. Alright?”
I nodded as tears abruptly trickled over my lower lids, and then I hissed in annoyance at myself.
“Damn it, Sage,” I growled, wiping them away angrily, but he did not comment on my hysterics. He straightened and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe my tears for me. The tenderness in his touch almost made more fall.
“We need to return to the village before dark to see if the tablets are intact,” he reminded me, and I nodded.
“Help me unload this cart, and then we can go.”
With the two of us, it was not long before the yurt was furnished and the trunks were unpacked. The aes sídhe female that I was assisting, a mother of three children who had lost her mate in the battle, was too busy feeding her young and putting them to bed to unpack. She tried to thank me, tearfully offering to feed us, but I merely shook my head and smiled before making a hasty retreat.
“Will you tell me about the aversion to thankfulness?” Sage asked as he followed me toward the open space where his portal had disappeared.
“You mean you don’t have me all figured out?”
“Not yet, Summer, but don’t worry, I will,” he retorted with a playful wink that made me snort and roll my eyes. Neither of us spoke as we reached the clearing where Serafin was waiting with Pyrope.
Sage seemed to know I was contemplating my answer, so he did not pester me while he saddled his vargr.
“I have given my all to people before,” I began slowly, leaning against Serafin’s shoulder and stroking his silky black fur as I prepared to give up yet another painful truth to my anam . “I’ve spilled so much blood, so many tears, and I’ve risked burning out my magic. And I’ve learned that regardless of how convincing they are now in their sincerity to me, come the time, they will still sacrifice me without hesitation to save their own.”
Sage’s fingers hesitated on the saddle buckles, and he was quiet for a moment before continuing.
“It was not just your people who did that to you.”
“No,” I admitted, surprising myself again with my own readiness to open up to him. Perhaps I was a fool for even wanting to build trust with someone again, but I pushed through that fear. “You asked where I was trained.”
“Yes, I was looking for evidence that you were a spy sent by the Griffin Queen to infiltrate us,” he revealed.
“Right. No,” I assured him with a shake of my head. “After I fled from my people, I lived among the Foraoise for a long time. Centuries,” I admitted.
“Elves,” he realized aloud, looking impressed with me. “You were trained by forest elves?”
“It was a long time ago. I am very rusty,” I dismissed as he finished with the saddle and began to lead all of us, myself, Pyrope, and Serafin, through the bustling camp.
“And they sacrificed you?”
“It is… a long story. But suffice it to say that when my people finally found me and threatened violence upon the elves for harbouring me. Even after the battles I’d fought for them, all the centuries I spent becoming one of them, many of the Foraoise did not feel I was worth spilling elfin blood over. Most of them abandoned the city well before my father’s army arrived. Some tried to take me hostage and bargain. Too few of the elves stayed to fight, and those who did all died.”
Sage breathed something, probably a curse, as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Summer.”
“Elves have mortal bodies, did you know?” I found myself asking him. “They are not fully commended to the Tithriall when they die, so instead they lie and rot. I had never walked a battlefield before that was littered with the bodies of the people I knew. Friends. Lovers. All of them were turned into nothing but broken and empty shells.”
Sage did not speak as he reached down to thread our fingers together.
“I did not know that. It sounds… haunting.”
“It is. People will do what they do to survive, and I can hardly fault them for it. I do not expect anything more from them. So I guess I hate when they thank me because I know it is not real. Well. Except with you,” I amended with a glance up at his sombre expression.
He nodded, but I could tell he was deeply unsettled by all that I had revealed.
“Please do not pity—”
“It’s not that, Summer. I just cannot… fathom the life you have lived. Mine has been different,” he explained.
“And I appreciate that about you! You are not jaded. You still believe in people. I may not see things your way, but I admire that optimism about you,” I admitted.
Sage was quiet for a moment, but I could see a smile working its way slowly across his face.
“I believe that is the nicest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Gods,” I muttered, rolling my eyes while he gave my hand an affectionate squeeze.
“I want to understand you as much as you will allow. So I hope you continue to share,” he said more seriously.
I merely nodded, unwilling to make that promise even though I already knew it was inevitable. The fortress of my deepest and darkest secrets was already breached.
And I no longer wanted to reinforce the gates against his conquest.