Chapter 21
Was it possible to perish from happiness?
Soren considered it plausible. However, he couldn’t expire just yet, for every day, there was a promise of more Maeve tomorrow.
And somehow, with each new day and more moments spent with Maeve, his happiness only grew, larger than he ever thought possible.
It was as though he was trying to pack a lifetime’s longing for affection into a single summer.
Happy with all she gave him yet hungry for more, Soren found ways to lengthen the time they spent together.
He planned more nature walks and outdoor games for the children.
He sat with Maeve during her luncheon, helping her supervise the midday break.
He walked as slowly as he could taking her home and was more than willing to hurry off the path for a secluded thicket—he didn’t even mind anymore that they often found themselves laid out on the ground, so long as it was together.
He even took her back to the cabin again, his chest aching in a strange way as he held her to him while they fell asleep.
How was it possible that he could ache not from an emptiness or longing but instead from feeling too full?
He gorged on the happiness she brought him and was still ravenous for more.
There was no end to his wanting her, and scary as that might be, Soren didn’t have much room for those thoughts, not when he was so focused on everything she did and said.
Soren lived for the little kisses she snuck throughout the day, ducking around the shed or the schoolhouse door or even, when she was feeling particularly brave, waiting until all the children were preoccupied with their game to sneak a kiss behind the brim of her sunhat.
Those teasing, flirtatious, confident looks she gave him only made Soren more besotted, his chest expanding with pride to know he was the male receiving her attentions.
Rather than jealously glare at all the single men in the evening class, Soren stood at the back almost haughtily. Most had given up their efforts to woo the pretty schoolteacher, but he knew how rabidly jealous they’d be to learn just how much attention Maeve paid him.
The longer he was with Maeve, even in secret, the easier it became to imagine himself being with her…always.
It was no less dangerous a thought than it had been before, but the more of her he had, the more he allowed himself to entertain the possibility of forever.
She’d faced his turuk and smiled. The beast was utterly obsessed with her, scratching at his mind constantly to formalize their relationship—and let him out for more Maeve pettings.
Most surprising of all was that, should Maeve be in sight, his beast quieted.
Far less growling and grumpiness; so long as she was there, the turuk was as calm as a lounging housecat.
Has she tamed you? he asked, only half in jest.
She commands both of us, was the smug answer.
Well, that was true.
And as spring warmed into early summer, Soren began to harbor the hope that, as Maeve spent more and more of her time with him, even days there wasn’t school, he might have earned just a little of her affections.
They spent their days strolling by the nearby lake, flying up to his favorite perch or just flying across the region to see what they could see, picking blackberries along the streams, reading and sunbathing in dappled afternoon sunshine, and gardening, too.
They were, without doubt, the best days of Soren’s life.
So good, in fact, that he, so unused to happiness lasting this long, began to worry there might come an end. There wasn’t any indication from Maeve that this was so, but Soren couldn’t help the worry. His turuk grumbled that whatever happened, if it happened, they’d do whatever it took to keep her.
But Soren, the rational part of him, knew that Maeve wasn’t a bird to be caged. She had to be convinced, wooed, and for that, he decided he needed advice.
That was how, on an afternoon free from his duties at the school, he found himself gliding down to the meadow of Imogen and Balar’s homestead.
It was a quaint place, with a burbling stream on one side near the comfortable animal pens that housed her prize-winning goats as well as Chestnut the donkey. Flowers bloomed around the meadow and its perimeter, oranges and blues and whites that gave the air a sweet smell.
An out-of-place noise caught his ear, and he looked to his right to watch the rear end of a horse disappear behind the trees, departing from the meadow. He caught only a glimpse of the rider, familiar brown curls bouncing with the horse’s gait.
Soren knocked on the open front door, announcing his arrival, and received greetings from Imogen and Balar. He’d picked a good time to come; he knew Akila, Diar, and Kiri would be busy elsewhere and not butt in.
“Was that Sorcha Brádaigh I saw leaving just now?” he asked as he drew further into the cottage.
Imogen and Balar exchanged careful looks.
“It was,” Imogen confirmed. “She came with…something to share.”
Soren looked between his brother and sister, his senses sharpening at the strange mood.
“Is something the matter?” His guts twisted to think something was amiss with Maeve’s family.
“It’s good you’re here, seska,” said Balar. “We actually need to speak with you.”
Clearing her throat, Imogen said, “Let’s sit.”
Utterly baffled, Soren sat where Imogen indicated, in a chair she usually claimed.
She sat down with Balar across from him in the battered sedan.
There was barely room enough for both of them, Imogen smushed into Balar’s side, and it would’ve been a silly, charming image they made had they not been regarding him so gravely.
“Has someone died?” asked Soren. With the way they looked, he thought it likely.
“No, no one’s died,” Balar sighed.
“Sorcha was here sharing some news she just received.” Imogen wrung her hands, a gesture Soren had never seen her do before.
“I guess she’d been waiting on a letter from Lady Aislinn for a while now, but it was delayed with the spring festivals and planting season.
Sorcha had asked about possible positions for Maeve in Dundúran.
It took a while for inquiries to be made, but… ”
“A position has been found,” said Balar. “One she can start immediately. She would need to move there.”
Soren’s ears rang, even as the two of them fell silent.
No. No, no no no no—he was supposed to have more time—she’d mentioned finding something else next year, not wanting to abandon the students—she couldn’t just abandon—
His shock must have shown on his face, for Imogen winced as she watched him.
“Apparently Maeve herself made requests to Lady Aislinn, too, even after Sorcha had written. Did she…not say anything about it to you?”
No. They hadn’t spoken of anything further in the future than perhaps a fortnight, and it was usually about plans for the students. It was safer that way.
She always meant to leave—she made no secret of that. But Soren…had stopped believing it at some point. Had begun to hope, to believe that she would stay.
He only realized just how deeply his delusion had burrowed inside him when faced with the truth of it. Maeve was leaving.
Absolutely not! raged the turuk. Won’t let her!
Be quiet, he told his beast. Just be quiet, for once.
Must do something—have to keep her—
Soren’s skin rippled, and he fought back the shift. Gritting his teeth, he dug his claws into his own knees, holding strong against the raging turuk. It thrashed him from the inside, outraged at the possibility of losing her.
Coward! it cried. You can’t let her go!
In a blur of movement, Balar lunged across the small space, pinning Soren back in his seat with a paw to his shoulder.
“Steady now, seska.” The command in Balar’s voice, the leader of their pride, registered in Soren. He wanted to calm down, wanted to heed his brother’s unsaid warning—don’t you dare endanger Imogen.
The turuk didn’t appreciate Balar’s show of dominance.
Soren stood abruptly, knocking Balar’s arm out of his way. Carrying the enraged beast outside was the only option. He needed to get out of that confined space, needed to get away from their pitying eyes.
“Soren, wait!” he heard Imogen call after him, but he didn’t stop.
Marching from the house, he took a running leap into the sky, pushing himself up out of the canopy into the blinding midday sun.
Coward, coward, coward! seethed the turuk, but Soren wasn’t listening.
Giving into the beast had brought this about. It was time for Soren to claw back control and think rationally again. He needed to think.
Soren took the rest of the afternoon to calm himself. Although he couldn’t bear to be in another confined space full of lusty single men drooling over Maeve, he did manage to pull himself together enough to be waiting for her when class was finished.
He met her outside the schoolhouse, hands clasped behind his back as she hurried to greet him.
“There you are,” she said. And, more quietly, “I missed you today.”
Soren tried to grin in acknowledgement, but he feared it looked as painful as it felt, as a frown of concern touched her brows to see it.
He nodded at the path. “Shall we?”
Maeve smiled wide, but he could see the confusion in her eyes. That sense only deepened as they began to walk. He kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back, so as not to grab her and toss her over his shoulder as the turuk demanded, even when she slipped her arm through his as she often did.
She, of course, noticed the change in his demeanor.
He hadn’t held back from her like this in weeks, and no doubt she sensed how close to the surface his turuk was.
She’d only ever seen the turuk happy and playful; he didn’t dare reveal it now, snarling and possessive beast that it was.
It wouldn’t harm her physically, never that, but it had no qualms about keeping her up in that cave in the escarpment for the rest of their days.