Chapter 13
That was easier said than done, at least for Maeve. Particularly since she didn’t want to think about her feelings anymore. If anything, the longer she considered the knot of them, the tighter they strung.
One more thing left unresolved or unanswered—like how both letters to Lady Aislinn had gone unanswered, as had all of her inquiries in Dundúran. Maeve was getting sick of how many were piling up.
She thought all these things, and her frustration over them, were why she’d begun to be so irritable lately. Normally, Maeve found it easy to let things roll right off her shoulder. Get even or let it go; there wasn’t a point to holding on.
So when she saw Keeley sigh with relief into her porridge after Maeve disagreed with their mother about moving her to the otherly school one morning, Maeve not only took notice but offense.
“You don’t think she’d have more fun being with you?” asked Aoife over breakfast one morning.
“I wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the term. And, her friends are in Granach. Transferring schools can be difficult, even traumatic,” advised Maeve, more out of academic rather than sisterly concern.
Which was good, because she didn’t imagine how Keeley’s shoulders slumped in relief. Maeve bit her cheek to keep from pouting—so Keeley didn’t want to go with Maeve to her school at all? It’d been their mother’s idea?
Not hungry anymore, Maeve slid away from the table. “I’m off.”
“Oh, but Maeve, do you think you could ask about a position for Blaire? I know she’s barely out of schooling herself, but I think she’d enjoy it.”
Being surrounded by talkative, loud children wasn’t something Maeve thought Blaire would enjoy at all, actually.
“I can ask, but I think it’d be better if she continued her studying for the entrance exam.”
Anyone looking to attend a university anywhere in the kingdom would need good marks on the entrance exam. They were offered throughout the summer at the civil ministry in Dundúran, and, as far as Maeve knew, Blaire intended to try on the first round.
Aoife made a face. “I know, but I wanted her to have other things to think about.”
Meaning, options other than leaving home.
Aoife had put up quite the fight and fit when Maeve announced she was headed far away for university.
It’d taken her father’s intervention—and sponsorship to pay for it—to finally get her way.
Calum had had a slightly easier time; it was clear to see how bookish Calum was meant for academics, what with his curious mind and nose perpetually in a book.
It seemed Aoife was going to try a different strategy with Blaire. Poor dear. Unlike Maeve, Blaire was a sensitive, soft soul. If Aoife demanded she stay home, she probably would.
That was Blaire’s fight, though. All Maeve could speak to was, “She seems set on studying for the exam. There are many opportunities to study literature and art like she wants to. She’s probably bored here—you know she’s already read through Lady Aislinn’s library.
” Blaire might not be the best fit for life in the capital, but there were plenty of things she’d enjoy about it—greater access to the arts, libraries as big as Dundúran Town Hall, likeminded people to meet.
As their father said, they wouldn’t know where they belonged until they’d left home and come back. Even faithful Sorcha had left—although not of her own choice. Still, kidnapping aside, it brought her and Orek together, so overall, a positive experience.
Aoife’s face pinched, and Maeve knew that was her cue to leave. She didn’t need to argue with her mama this early in the morning.
It didn’t help her mood when, sitting by the door to lace up her boots, she heard Keeley say to their mother, “I told you, she doesn’t like Blaire and me.”
Maeve bit her cheek again and barely managed to stop herself from stomping into her boot. That little brat, making it sound like Maeve was the one who didn’t want them at her school. Blaire and Keeley themselves had made it a point since before Maeve went away to avoid her.
Huffing in annoyance, Maeve stood from the bench, opened the front door, and closed it behind her. Loudly.
All she garnered as she walked through the front courtyard were averted stares rather than appreciative looks, but that was due to her frown and also perfectly all right. Maeve didn’t want admiration right now, she wanted something to go her way.
Unfortunately for Connor, he was in her way.
Not literally—although the workshop was in her direction as she walked to the school.
She couldn’t help stopping by to peer critically at the messy space.
Orek hadn’t been working there as much due to the cramped conditions.
The man stood a head taller than Connor and was almost double him in width and bulk, yet he was also the sensitive sort, taking in every stray animal he found, sweettalking the horses, and afraid to hurt Connor’s feelings.
Maeve wasn’t.
“Just because the weather is warming up doesn’t mean you should be sleeping outside,” she reminded her brother, despite his back being turned and his head ducked. “You must take care of yourself, Con.”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled.
Ah, so he was awake. “You’re not. I can see how badly you smell from here.”
That got her a glare from over his shoulder, but Maeve just nodded primly.
“Take a long bath. You’ll feel better.”
Connor snorted. “Maybe I will—and use up all your fancy soap from Gleanná.”
“At least you’d smell better.” Leaning forward, she glared at him when she added, “But if you use up my expensive soap, I’ll leave you tied up soaked in honey for a bear to find.”
It was a baseless threat, a common one between her and her brothers. She could always threaten them and they her, and they all knew it was in good fun—even if Sorcha, Blaire, and Keeley gasped and stared in horror.
Connor was supposed to smirk, even laugh, but all he did was shrug and drop his head.
“Go away, Maeve,” he muttered.
Maeve straightened, patting down her skirts to give herself something to do other than quickly do as he said and retreat. Resisting sticking out her tongue at him, she said sweetly instead, “Have a lovely day, brother.”
With that, she flounced away, not feeling any better for the exchange.
Honestly, what was wrong lately? Half her family avoided her, while the other half looked at her like she’d just interrupted something. She could hardly step into a room without everyone flushing and looking away.
She’d thought her mother and Sorcha would be pleased she was home for now, but even that had worn off quickly when they realized she wouldn’t be nagged into farm chores. Maeve wouldn’t be commandeered into the family business, not when she was younger, not now.
Something felt wrong in a way it hadn’t before, in a way she found difficult to describe. That she was unwanted, even unliked. She wanted to think that was her irritation talking, of course, especially since it led to an unpleasant thought—that perhaps her family had been happier without her.
She blamed her frustrations too for her tetchy mood that day. She contained it fairly well with the children, but her adult evening class was another matter.
Normally, when she discovered that someone hadn’t done the assigned practice, she would gently tease and move on.
However, not for the first time, it quickly became clear that many of the single men who attended hadn’t done the assigned practice.
Maeve was proud of her adult students; many of them were diligent in their studying and had much progress to show for it.
There were a handful, however, who hardly hid that they saw the class as an excuse to see her.
“I’m learning lots just from your company, Miss Maeve,” said Astagarth, one of the bolder orcs, showing off his thick tusks in a flashy grin.
Normally, Maeve would have teased and smiled, reminding Astagarth and the five or so other single men who didn’t practice, that classes were for dedicated students. Today, though, Maeve didn’t have the energy or will to humor them.
Pursing her lips and giving them each her best schoolteacher stare, Maeve admonished, “If you aren’t going to learn, then best leave, gentlemen.”
Ulmo, a shier orc, held up his hands in placation. “We meant no disrespect, Miss Maeve.”
“Not practicing is disrespectful—to me and to your classmates.” Maeve pointed at the door in the back. “It’s crowded and warm enough in here without extra bodies who don’t wish to actually learn.”
Quite a few others looked on in surprise, and more than one pleased grin was hidden behind a hand; she enjoyed it almost as much as the how the men squirmed through the silence.
She let it linger throughout the room, although it went a little longer than she intended when she caught Soren’s gaze. He watched on from his usual place against the far wall, near the door. Arms crossed over his wide chest, he offered a supportive nod.
Somehow, the gesture hit her in the chest harder than anything else. She would’ve preferred his amusement or embarrassment—his support actually hurt a little.
Diar muttering contritely, “We’ll do the work, Miss Maeve,” brought her back to the front of the classroom.
“I’m glad to hear it.” They seemed relieved that they were allowed to stay but groaned to hear their assigned practice for the evening—far larger than the others’.
The rest of the lesson went smoothly enough, although Maeve was glad to see the end of it. Everyone left hastily, including those who usually lingered to flirt with her after class, but that suited Maeve.
Although the days were lengthening, offering some light to walk home by, Soren still accompanied her from the school to the property line, true to his word. Unfortunately for him, he too would fall victim to her strange mood.
Especially because his quiet support felt like pressing on a bruise—and he just kept pressing.
“Are you all right, Miss Maeve?” he asked her in that gentle voice of his.
“Yes. Why?” she said, a little too sharply.