Chapter 10
Ten
ALLETTE
I’m not sure how long I stare at the woman, her words pounding through my skull, growing louder. Stronger. If Samhain is tonight, that means Eason mixed up the dates. With all the preparations for this trip and his long, exhausting nights at work, is it any wonder? If I’d been less of a hermit and left the house, I would’ve known the bloody date.
Now he is on his way to Dullen, and I have no way of reaching him. What should I do? Should I stay here?
My stomach twists, and I swear I can feel myself being pulled toward the sky. Almost as if an invisible tether has wrapped around my torso, demanding I return home.
I can’t stay when there is a chance to escape.
Don’t I owe it to myself—to Eason—to try?
Guilt settles in my chest next to my dead heart.
What if someone does come through? When Eason returns from his trip and finds me gone, he’ll be devastated. For four years, he has provided food and shelter, comfort and support. He picked up my broken pieces, mending them as best he could. All those years ago, he had the chance to abandon me, and yet he stayed. Saved me from those terrible men. Healed me with the last of his magic. Damned himself to this realm.
How can I abandon him now?
Only, I wouldn’t abandon him.
If by some miracle I made it to Kumulus, I would be sure to send someone back through the portal next year.
This may be the only chance to save us both.
What good am I anyway? He might claim to love me, but love should be reciprocated. As much as I’ve learned to care for Eason, I do not love him, and I never will.
That part of me was stolen along with my wings and my mate.
More than likely, I’ll end up sitting by that circle of stones for yet another night and returning to the cottage just as I have every other year, and Eason will be none the wiser.
The vendor gives me an odd look and asks if I’m all right. I mutter an apology and continue inside the store to purchase a vial of hair dye. Sure enough, colorful Samhain masks hang on racks in the window. “Is tonight Samhain?” I ask the man behind the till, needing to be sure before I let this warmth in my chest bloom into hope.
The man nods, taking my money for the dye and tucking it into the drawer. “That it is. Will you be needing a mask yourself?” He takes down a bluebird one. “This would go lovely with your eyes.”
He continues speaking, but all I can focus on is the lone crow mask dangling at the bottom of the rack.
Stars . It looks exactly like the one he wore…
Sweat collects at the back of my neck, and my vision swims. How can it still be this hard after so long? “I don’t need a mask,” I blurt, clutching the bottle of dye to my chest as I stumble for the door.
Outside, stinging autumn air floods my lungs, cooling my overheated skin. I mull over my choice the whole way home. When I finally reach our cottage, I’m no closer to a decision.
I consider climbing back through the window but figure my neighbor has probably realized I haven’t been in the bathing room this whole time, so I grip the frozen doorknob and ease the door open.
Widow Mae glowers at me from her chair. “Where’ve you been all this time? I’ve been worried sick.”
“I went for a walk.” I unhook my cloak, hanging it atop Eason’s spare coat.
Eason .
His large slippers sit next to mine by the bed we share. The wood he chopped is piled in the shed right outside. If not for him, this ramshackle cottage wouldn’t have those curtains or the small copper tub in the bathing room.
After all he has done for me, how can I leave him?
The answer is simple.
I can’t.
I will simply have to wait until next Samhain to return.
I tuck my hair dye into my pocket and cross to the sink to fill the kettle. The last time I was selfish, my life was ruined. Better to keep my feet on the ground where I cannot fall than let myself drift back into the clouds. “Would you like some tea?”
Mae collects her knitting from her lap. She must’ve been working the whole time I was gone. The scarf looks nearly finished. “A spot of tea would be lovely for these old bones.” The rocking chair creaks away the seconds as I add water and hang the kettle over the fireplace to boil.
With nothing better to do, I take my seat and collect Eason’s sock with a hole in the toe from the basket of items that need patched up. “On my walk, I saw some folks preparing for Samhain.”
Mae’s chair stops creaking. “You’ve your dates all mixed up. Samhain was last night.”
“No, Samhain is tonight.”
“You’re mistaken.”
I set my needle and thread aside. “I’m not mistaken.” The more she protests, the more unease fills my core. She is lying to me. Before I can ask why, she leans so close, she damn near falls out of her chair. Her nose wrinkles as she inhales deeply.
Is she sniffing me?
She is. She’s sniffing me. “What are you doing?”
Wordlessly, she leans against the chair’s high back and resumes rocking and knitting.
I repeat my question again, but she still doesn’t respond. “Mae!”
With a huff, Mae finally drops her needles. “I know about the drinking, dear. Your Eason told me all about how you struggle.”
I might struggle with guilt and grief, but, “I do not struggle with drink.”
“There’s no need to shout, Allette. There is no shame in admitting you need help—my first husband Leonard was the same. It’s why young Eason asks me to stay with you. To make sure you don’t fall prey to its call while he is away. Don’t you worry. We’ll dry you right out, and when that fine young man returns, you can give him the sons he so desperately desires.”
Eason hardly could’ve told her the truth about my wings, but to let this woman think I’m an alcoholic? He could’ve given her any other excuse, and yet he chose this one. “Is that why you tried to lie about Samhain? Because you’re afraid I’ll go on a bender?”
A nod. “Your Eason said it’s important that you do not know about the festival. On account of all the merrymaking in town,” she adds.
Bloody hell.
That means…
Eason didn’t get the date wrong after all.
He knew.
He knew and didn’t tell me.
He let me sit outside all night—let me cry myself to sleep over no fae coming through the portal, knowing all the while that the portal wasn’t bloody open.
Eason lied to me.
To what end? He hates it here as much as I do. Why wouldn’t he want to go home? He knows how much I miss Kumulus. How much I miss my aunt and the life I once lived.
The longer I think about it, the angrier I become, until the guilt I felt over the thought of leaving slowly fades.
Tonight, I’m going through that portal.
And Eason won’t be here to stop me.