Chapter 10
Maeve put all her skills of observation behind figuring out whether or not there was—or had been—something between Briseis and Soren. Over the next few days, she watched carefully for any kind of clue, her dreadful curiosity gnawing away her attention for other things.
Of course, those two didn’t help by being the subtlest, shiest creatures in the world.
After watching them, Maeve felt fairly confident thinking there wasn’t anything between them that had manifested.
That didn’t mean there weren’t feelings and affection, just that neither had acted upon whatever they might feel yet.
Honestly, if left to their own devices, it might take years at this rate.
Should I…nudge them along?
It would be the noble thing to do, surely. While she might be Soren’s fated mate, they both knew she was leaving. Maeve didn’t want to take with her the guilt of stealing away any chance of happiness for kind Mister Soren. Knowing he and Briseis might have a chance together would make her glad.
Except, it absolutely didn’t.
Neither did guessing that they hadn’t acted upon any supposed feelings for each other. Because that only led to an even more horrible line of questioning—what did they feel for each other? And even worse—why did she care?
She didn’t want to. She didn’t mean to or need to.
She couldn’t afford to.
There was enough to sort out for herself without also helping the hapless Mister Soren.
Lady Aislinn hadn’t yet responded to Sorcha’s letter inquiring about possible positions for Maeve; Connor was still sleeping outside, and Blaire was still walking on eggshells around her; and her mother and Sorcha were beginning to make plans for how Maeve could help around the estate now that she was back home.
So much to do. A downright headache.
She didn’t realize she’d sighed until Soren asked quietly, “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes.” Clearing her throat, Maeve said, “My mind is just busy.” Mostly because of you.
She had far too much to worry about, and yet the quiet manticore beside her had come to dominate her thoughts.
I should just ask him. Maeve rarely had an issue being forthright—be clear, be direct, that was her mindset.
And yet, quite unlike her usual self, she found herself…wavering. As if she…didn’t want to know his answer.
Asking directly also might make him uncomfortable. He was already so embarrassed about what he did when he lost his feather—how might he react if she touched the soft spot of Briseis? No, perhaps best to observe a little longer.
Instead, Maeve changed the subject. “Kiri is doing well as always. I may run out of things to teach him before the year is up.”
Praising Kiri was an easy way to get the otherwise taciturn Soren—if not talking then at least in a good mood. His whiskers twitched, and he ducked his head, as if he could hide how proud he was to hear it.
“He’s very bright,” Soren said. “Always taken to learning.”
“Since he’s the oldest and the most advanced, I may start giving him some of my old university materials to work on.”
A rumble of pleasure echoed down the dim path. “He would like that, I’m sure.”
There were many opportunities for a student as bright as Kiri.
Clever, charming, and friendly, he could likely accomplish anything he set his mind to with the right push.
Maeve wouldn’t tell Soren, of course, but she’d already begun thinking about bringing Kiri with her to Dundúran.
Although not Gleanná, Dundúran still offered opportunities neither of them could find in the countryside.
A bright student, a novelty like a manticore youth, could very well open doors for them both.
Mercenary of her, yes, probably. But she knew very well how stifling the countryside could be.
She saw the same potential in Kiri that she had in her younger brother Calum.
Both were curious, with a natural urge to learn.
Calum had had a far easier time leaving home for university since Maeve had charted his way, of course, and he hadn’t looked back.
Blaire too could be bound for university… if she’d the inclination.
Village life would bore someone like Kiri. There was so much out there, a whole world of things to see and people to meet—and people would definitely want to meet him. He’d be not simply a novelty but potentially an ambassador of his people. He could bridge worlds.
So much opportunity and promise—she just had to get them out of this little corner of the world.
She was also very sure his older brothers would protest. Peeking at the one who’d seemed to have the largest hand in raising him, Maeve wondered if Soren would come to hate her for suggesting Kiri go away.
First his mate and then his little brother.
Her stomach swooped.
Different subject, change the subject.
“Are manticore children often raised by their fathers?” It made her curious that the five of them were all males—no sisters or wives had come with them on their journey north, and they rarely spoke about female manticores.
“Much of the rearing is commonly left to the father, yes. Although it depends on the couple. Our situation was…special.”
Yes, their exile. Kiri had mentioned it before, but Maeve figured that might be another soft subject for Soren.
“Still, it must’ve been difficult. You were all young yourselves. Had you…reared a child before?”
“No, none of us were mated.” And, quietly, as though to himself, he added, “I wouldn’t have been allowed to.”
“Well, you’ve done excellently with him.”
“Balar was responsible for all of us, and Diar and Akila were barely men themselves. I took charge of Kiri—it gave me purpose.”
Maeve’s brows rose. This was the most he’d spoken to her on their walks. He could be counted on to talk more when it was about Kiri or the other students, true. Still, Maeve couldn’t help but be touched—it was clear how much he loved raising Kiri.
He’ll want children of his own.
A sucking ache pulled at her stomach. Even if she planned on staying, Maeve wasn’t sure she wanted children herself. At least, not for a long while yet.
His mate, his brother, his chance for a child…
Could manticores have children with someone other than their fated mate?
She nearly broke out in a cold sweat—fates, she hoped so. For his sake.
“You remind me of my sister Sorcha,” she found herself saying. “Taking care of everyone else.”
Maeve…perhaps hadn’t been the most devoted older sister to Calum, Blaire, and Keeley. Honestly, if she’d tried, Sorcha probably would’ve corrected her or felt her toes had been stepped on. Sorcha was the eldest, the third parent—that was her territory and she guarded it jealously.
“That’s the way of a pride, no matter the size,” said Soren. Peering down at her, his gaze far too soft, he said, “You would understand that, of course. Your family is large, too.”
“Too large sometimes,” Maeve sighed. It was easy to get lost amongst so many siblings.
“You…would still leave?” he asked, voice dropped so low it was almost a whisper. “Although your family is here?”
Fates, they were straying close to a soft subject again.
“I’m not like Sorcha, you see,” she said with a forced smile.
“I prefer my own path.” No one had ever accused her of being sentimental or self-sacrificing.
The bonds that knotted their family together didn’t feel so tight around Maeve—and she didn’t think it was entirely her own doing.
Still, “Although, I’m close with some of my siblings. Niall and I have always gotten on.”
She saw little of him nowadays. Although Connor had hung up his spurs, Niall was still in service—stationed now on a rotation north near the border with Caledon.
She truly did miss Niall. He loved gossip as much as she did, and they’d passed many pleasant evenings in the front parlor, sneaking wine from the cellar and saying terrible things about people they knew.
Niall could take a joke and knew how to have fun.
Honestly, the only thing he really took seriously was training to become a knight, and that had unfortunately meant his leaving eventually.
Although she and Niall were nearest in age, and he most closely matched her in disposition, he was still very much a part of what she considered the older set.
Sorcha, Connor, and Niall were the older set to Maeve; Calum, Blaire, and Keeley the younger set.
There were marked differences in interests and temperaments between the two.
The older set had followed their parents’ paths, Sorcha helping train horses, Connor and Niall becoming knights.
They were responsible, reliable, devoted; their childhoods had been marked by lean times when the family business nearly failed and there was always a new baby to look after.
When serious matters were discussed round the dinner table, the older set were allowed to stay.
The younger set had had much stabler childhoods.
Allowed and encouraged to follow their interests, Calum, Blaire, and Keeley often roamed, sating their curiosities.
However, Maeve had noticed that they also received far less attention from their parents, for by then, Aoife and Ciaran had seen so many children to adulthood, there wasn’t as much left to give the younger ones.
And then there was Maeve, right in the middle. Neither the older nor the younger.
She liked to think of herself as a path-breaker.
The one who set a new course for the younger ones to follow.
That was the romantic way to think about it, at least. Really, Maeve had watched her older siblings toil…
and for what? Sorcha didn’t seem happier or fulfilled from running herself ragged.
It was obvious to anyone who knew him that Connor was too sensitive to be a knight and did it only to please their father. What was the point?