Chapter Three
Two days later, Rion wiped the sweat from his brow and plopped into one of the wooden chairs outside. He propped his feet up on the stones surrounding the unlit fireplace and leaned back. He could hear Caol rustling around inside, likely prepping lunch. Rion knew better than to offer his help. Caol treated the small kitchen like a temple. No one else was allowed to touch his utensils.
It also didn’t help that Rion had nearly burned the cabin down when he was a youngling. It was a poor attempt at making lunch. Apparently grease didn’t mix well with fire.
White clouds passed by at a snail’s pace. He had the day off today, aside from the chores he’d just finished. No training, though Caol hadn’t made him do much after chucking a staff into his stomach. The bluish color that had spread across his ribs was just beginning to fade.
He let the tension fall from his shoulders and closed his eyes. The spring air washed through him, pleasant and welcoming.
Rion’s body jolted. He sat straight up in the chair, heart thundering through his chest. The forest was quiet. Rion twisted in his seat, searching for the sound, but—nothing.
He gripped his head, trying to massage away the headache creeping on. What had he been dreaming about? He couldn’t remember, but Rion could have sworn—impossible. No one came within a mile of this place without Caol’s knowledge.
A mouthwatering scent drifted from the cabin’s open window. Judging from the sun’s position, he hadn’t been out long.
Stretching, Rion started for the door with one thought in mind. The festival. He couldn’t go with Saoirse, but maybe, just maybe Caol would say yes today. Rion could control his magic now, mostly, and so long as he kept his hood up, no one would recognize him. It had always worked when he traveled with Saoirse.
Caol had nearly finished his plate when Rion walked through the door. “If I’d known you’d sleep the day away, I would have assigned you more to do.”
Rion shrugged. “You said I had down time.” Not that he’d meant to fall asleep.
The male grunted and popped another forkful of chicken into his mouth.
Rion sat across from him, his own mouthwatering from the smell of herb-roasted chicken, rice, and vegetables. Caol’s cooking never disappointed.
The male poured them both a glass of water and returned to his meal.
Rion took a bite, savoring the rich flavor. He stared at Caol, his heart quickening as the question danced on his tongue.
“Out with it already,” Caol barked without looking up.
Rion pushed a pea across his plate. “The spring festival starts tonight.”
Caol drank from his glass. “I didn’t think Saoirse would be here for it.”
“She isn’t,” Rion started. “I was wondering if you’d like to go.”
“You know why we can’t.” Right. Because if they were caught, then Rion wouldn’t have a place to call home anymore. But he was so tired of being cooped up. Of only having Saoirse and Caol to talk to.
“We could wait until it’s dark,” Rion tried. “It’d be fun. Maybe we could find a few new weapons. Plus the food is always—”
“I’m not your father.”
The statement hit Rion hard. Harder than he thought it would. His face heated. “I know that. I just thought—”
“Don’t think. We’re not here for you to think or to attend festivals. I entertain the idea because of Saoirse’s insistence. You’re here to get stronger, nothing more.”
“I know,” Rion grumbled. “I just thought it might be nice to switch things up.”
Caol stared at his plate. “The solstice isn’t far off. Saoirse will accompany you then.” Caol stood and Rion gripped his fork. “Finish your meal before you storm off.”
Rion didn’t want to eat, his stomach had soured, but he did so anyway, clearing the plate as fast as possible before standing. “Thank you for the meal.”
With his face still warm, Rion exited the cabin, careful not to slam the door, and marched straight into the woods.
He knew Caol wasn’t his father, but Rion had hoped, with all the years they’d spent together, they might at least totter the line between family and friends.
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t have gone to the solstice with Saoirse either.
Rion tried to quell his rising anger. Caol had done far more for him than anyone else ever had. He should be grateful. He was grateful, he just wished—Rion slumped against a tree and slid to the ground. He didn’t know what he wished for. A friend, that’d be a good start.
Rion tilted his head back. The afternoon sky was still clear. Open and inviting. Birds flew overhead and Rion found himself envying their freedom.
He felt like a prisoner.
The logical part of his brain knew it was only for his own safety, but his heart, the illogical thing, begged for more. He wanted to know what it might be like to enter a restaurant with a friend at his side. To sit and laugh the way he’d seen so many other teens do. He wanted to take a female’s hand and watch her blush as they strolled through the streets. He just wanted something other than—Rion looked around—this isolation.
The solstice. He supposed he could wait, but even though the day brought joy, it was also tinged with sadness, especially for Saoirse. It was both a celebration and a painful reminder of when their lives had gone to hell. Rion had found her crying last year, seated at their father’s grave. She still blamed herself, and Rion wondered if she ever regretted saving him.
Rion let his magic spread through the ground. All manner of stones, both large and small, rose to surround his body. He studied it, this cursed magic the world labeled as an abomination. At least it responded better than it had in those initial months. It was only intense emotions that made it act out now.
Sometimes Rion wondered if a creature lurked beneath his skin, just waiting for the day it could break through and wreak havoc on Nàdair and its citizens. He supposed the only way to find out was to wait.
Rion relaxed his shoulders and let the magic fall again. He watched the clouds, the bugs crawling through the pine needles, the birds as they jumped from branch to branch.
How much peace could one endure before they lost their mind?
Footsteps padded nearby and Rion tilted his head to find Caol strolling toward him.
“You shouldn’t leave yourself so vulnerable.”
Rion returned his attention to the sky. “It’s called relaxing. You should try it sometime.”
Caol snorted. “I’m heading into the city for supplies. Do us both a favor and stay out of trouble while I’m gone.” To Nàdair. During the festival. Rion almost clenched his fists but stopped himself. He didn’t understand why the male couldn’t set aside thirty minutes to accompany Rion through the crowd. Not that Caol would attend without him. The male didn’t like big events, or crowds, or others in general.
Rion gave the male a dramatic thumbs up and Caol rolled his eyes, muttering beneath his breath before heading back to the cabin.
Caol only went to Nàdair twice a month. Less, if he could help it. He claimed to despise venturing into the city. But he always returned with his spirits lifted. Maybe he had a friend or two there. Perhaps even a female.
Rion’s jaw worked. A teacher. That’s all Caol was to him. Not a father. Not a friend. Rion stared after the place where Caol had disappeared.
Enough. He’d had enough. He’d face the repercussions later.
Rion waited until the sun had started to set before he entered the cabin, changed into plain black clothes, pulled a cloak from the rack, and let the door close behind him.
One night. He just wanted one night to pretend he was someone else. He’d stroll down the streets he’d once called home. He’d purchase sweets and pretend he had someone who cared waiting on him, too. Pathetic maybe, but it was far better than the lonely truth.