Chapter 12
“It was mortifying,” Maeve groaned, slumping into a chair at her Auntie Sofie’s battered kitchen table.
“My love, when you’re as…popular as you were, you’re bound to see people you know,” Auntie Sofie said as she poured them both a glass of cool lemonade. That was Sofie’s diplomatic way of saying, Sleep with enough men and you’re bound to see them around town.
Well…pah. According to statistics and Sofie, that was true.
Puckering with her first sip of the sweet, tart lemonade, Maeve hurried to clarify, “I didn’t mind seeing him. It’s that it was in front of the children. And Soren.”
Maeve had always been friendly with Collin Kenny and his younger brother Graeme, had even considered marrying one of them for a fleeting moment, before she’d been accepted to Queen Angharad. They were handsome, charming, and from a well-to-do family in Granach that owned a vineyard.
Collin had been Maeve’s first conquest. A bit older than her and her friends, he’d always been the charmer, easy to laugh and boast. Perfectly unserious, which made him perfect for Maeve. She’d had her fun and gotten out, especially once she noticed that her friend Neomi cared for him.
Honestly, Neomi was far too good for Collin, and Maeve would’ve been embarrassed for him in that exchange—to think he admitted not having brought up that he’d married—had she not been so embarrassed for herself.
The way Neomi had glared at her and hustled Collin away, as though Maeve might try to seduce him.
As if Maeve would ever go back for seconds.
Collin was handsome, yes, and could be amusing, but ultimately, he was a boor.
Just like most of the other men—boys, really—that Maeve had dallied with before university.
It made breaking things off all the easier.
She honestly might’ve warned Neomi off anything serious with Collin had she known it was a possibility.
“Has anyone else married that I should know about?” she asked. “I depend on you for good gossip, auntie. You know I can’t rely on Sorcha, she’s far too polite.”
“There have been a few, yes.” Sofie rattled off the names of several of Maeve’s friends, as well as a few men she was familiar with, too. Some of them Maeve had set up herself, which did make her a little proud, but others were…ill-advised and wouldn’t have received her blessing had she known.
“Fates, no wonder they haven’t come to visit,” Maeve sighed. “They all probably think like Neomi does.”
“The nice thing about paths, chickadee, is that they go in both directions.”
Placing her glass on the table, Sofie’s sharp light-green eyes pinned Maeve in her seat. “From what I’ve heard, Soren isn’t anything like Collin Kenny or any of your past…acquaintances.”
Maeve groaned again. “He’s not at all. That’s what made it so mortifying for him to see.”
Soren may have been shy, perhaps even na?ve when it came to matters of love and lust, but even he had to have seen there was a history between Maeve and Collin—one that Neomi felt threatened by.
What was worse, Collin was married to Neomi, who was Imogen’s younger sister, who was mated to Balar, who was Soren’s older brother.
Soren knew just what kind of man Collin Kenny was—and that he and Maeve had been… acquainted.
Dropping her cheek into her hand, Maeve consoled herself that, “It doesn’t matter, really. We’ve agreed nothing will happen. Perhaps it’s better if he thinks badly of me.”
“You don’t really believe that,” said Sofie with all confidence.
No, Maeve didn’t. She generally wanted people to like her, but when they didn’t, she tried not to care too much. It was their loss.
But, as with many things, Soren was proving…different.
“It’s somehow worse that he didn’t ask questions,” Maeve couldn’t help continuing. “Later, he said nothing about it. He had half a right to ask, if only about how I knew Imogen’s sister’s husband.”
“Perhaps he didn’t think it his place to pry,” said Sofie. “Perhaps he’s one of those rare people who judges others by what he sees of them, not their reputation.”
Despite herself, Maeve flushed. She wasn’t ashamed of her past behavior, not really.
She didn’t dally with anyone who might truly be hurt; she’d always been clear about her expectations, boundaries, and plans to leave the Darrowlands.
If a boy found himself dreaming of a future with her, that and his disappointment were his own burdens to bear.
Still, it seemed that although Maeve had been away for years now, she’d stepped back into the shoes she’d once worn.
At least in the eyes of those she’d left behind.
Sorcha and Connor still called her a brat.
Her father was still waiting for her to accomplish something.
Neomi thought she had eyes for Collin still.
Her old friends kept their husbands away for fear she’d steal them, too.
I’m not like that, she wanted to declare. At least…I don’t think I am.
Why was it so many seemed to believe the worst of her?
Was that what Soren believed of her, too? She didn’t like the thought of that. Not at all.
Let the rakes and the boors and the braggarts think little of her, that was just fine. But gentle, kind Mister Soren?
Perhaps he really did judge others by what he saw of them, not what he heard. Yet, that just made him witnessing what happened with Collin and Neomi all the worse.
“He’s the noble sort,” Maeve agreed. “But I still…don’t know what to make of him.”
“Well, you need to get him talking.”
“It’s more than that. I just…” She set her glass down and waved her hand vaguely, trying to find the right words. “He claims he felt the mate-pull for me—the feather is proof. But from what I understand of others who have become an otherly’s mate, that pull is nigh irresistible.”
“You think he’s lying?”
“No, he’s not the sort. It’s that—well, you hear stories about what a fae or manticore or dragon will do when they find their mate. Yet, Soren’s been able to control his instinct. We’re around each other all day, and he’s perfectly polite.”
“Would you prefer he throw you over his shoulder and make off with you?” Sofie teased gently.
Maeve flushed again, but this time, a little flicker of heat pooled in her lower belly. She wasn’t…entirely opposed to the idea. Or at least, the fantasy it made in her mind’s eye.
“It’s just that, you hear about big declarations and instant devotion and…
” Maeve shrugged, unable to keep Sofie’s gaze.
“But Soren’s always been controlled. Apologetic, even.
He doesn’t want a mate, and he can keep himself back.
It just makes me feel…inadequate.” That last word was whispered as Maeve picked at her own nail.
He ran away from me, cried a sad little voice deep down.
Fates, she hadn’t really meant to say all that aloud. She’d hardly admitted it to herself in the safety of her bed, surrounded by darkness and blankets.
Why was it that out of everyone who’d become the mate of an otherly, she was the one who could be resisted? Was Soren just that determined, or was there something about her that drove him away?
Does he really not want a mate, or does he just not want me?
Her head and heart hurt thinking about it over and over again, analyzing every little thing he did.
She didn’t like it, had striven never to be the person who agonized over something or someone like this.
It was exhausting and got her nowhere. She tried never to kick herself while she was already down.
Lately, the whole situation felt as though it was getting out of her control. She didn’t know what he thought or felt—sometimes, she didn’t know what she herself thought or felt, either. Everything was getting away from her—her ambitions, her plans, and now her feelings about Soren.
“So, you don’t want to be a fated partner, but you do want the experience of it, correct?” Sofie didn’t require a response, answering her own question with an arched brow. “No wonder you’re all out of sorts, chickadee. That’s quite the conundrum you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“You’re not helping,” Maeve grumbled.
“Fine, fine, I’ll help, but you won’t like it, either.
” Leaning forward, Sofie folded her arms on the table and regarded Maeve seriously.
“You can’t have it both ways, my love. Either be grateful he doesn’t act on his instinct, leaving you both the chance for a clean break when the time comes—or take a chance on him. ”
The lemonade in Maeve’s stomach turned sour. “I’ve never been with someone…good, like Soren. I don’t know how.”
“He’s never been with anyone at all from what you tell me. You could learn together.”
“It just…” All she could do was shrug. “It won’t work. We’re so different. I want to leave, he wants to stay.”
“And where are you headed off to so quickly? You haven’t told me about any prospects.”
Maeve winced. “There will be something, eventually.”
“How do you know he wouldn’t come with you?”
“He wouldn’t want to leave his brothers.” Especially not Kiri. She didn’t need to remember that she herself had ideas of bringing Kiri with her.
“I’m hearing a lot of excuses, and a lot of assumptions. But not that you don’t want him.”
Maeve’s mouth opened, but nothing immediately came out. Her auntie was just full of quips and advice today, it seemed.
“Well, that’s…”
Sofie nodded, sitting back with her lemonade to take the smuggest sip the world had ever seen.
“This could be a good thing, love. You’re growing and changing—this could be just what you both need.”
“But it’s not what I planned for.”
“Life doesn’t care about our plans.”
Maeve sighed. “Why did I even come here?”
“For some proper auntie advice, excellent as always.” Standing up, Sofie moved to pat Maeve’s cheek affectionately. “Sort out your feelings and then do something about it, Maeve. It’s the only way forward.”