11. Smiling Isn’t So Difficult
11
Smiling Isn’t So Difficult
Idris
T he press of darkness receded, and a new world materialised around me. Gone was the salty air of Nairsgarth Castle, replaced with the crisp, sweet rot of autumn. The breeze that whispered through the trees and stirred the carpet of burnished leaves blanketing the forest floor nipped at my skin. I breathed it deep, cooling my lungs as I tilted my face to the beam of champagne sunlight breaking through the copper canopy of the trees.
In the stillness, the trill of birdsong resumed. The creatures of the forest were always startled by the sudden appearance of a teleporting fae. We were predators, after all. But we were also as much a part of nature as the other beasts roaming the lands. However far from the source we travelled, however high we built our walls, the raw power of nature in our veins spoke to the land, and in turn, it welcomed us home.
Tir o Hydref had been my home since I was a young male. I’d first come here with my father, on one of our rare excursions beyond the safety of the city proper. He’d loved to hunt. I had enjoyed it too, but for me, being out in the wild had always been the real draw. Out here, I became a part of the world, rather than sitting high above it, hidden behind unnatural walls of stone. In the woods, I was free of the stifling rules of court. I shrugged off its formality, the costume of a prince, and became myself.
Just Idris.
Blowing out my breath, I set off up the gentle slope. Leaves crunched beneath my feet, sapping the tension from my body. It had been quite a morning.
Regret coiled in my belly like the worms living beneath my feet. However much I wanted to, I should not have said those things to Aliza, even disguised in a language she couldn’t understand. I hadn’t anticipated her attempts to repeat my words; a foolish mistake. She was smart. Of course she’d snatch up the opportunity to learn, and I, idiot that I was, had been quite unable to resist schooling her, if only to hear those beautiful, longed for words on her lips.
The last thing I needed was to have her repeating them to somebody else, learning their true meaning.
Or perhaps I did need that. If she learnt the truth of my words, would she say them again? Would my cowardly confession mean as much to her as it did me, or would it have her retreating, putting up walls between us? Perhaps one day, I would have the guts to translate for her, but not yet. Not today. It was much too soon.
For now, I would simply cherish her stilted attempts to repeat them, and I would hope. That kiss made it easier to do so.
Magic zapped over my skin as I crossed the wards I'd cast centuries ago, and at once, the jangling of a wind chime joined the birdsong.
A faint smile played over my lips. Jane had procured that infernal chime. On blustery days like today, it had driven me to distraction, but she’d loved its tuneless music. How strange that she was long gone, but her memory still rang in these woods .
My smile faded. The cosy cabin, nestled amongst the trees, had once been a haven. I’d have opened that door to the smell of paint and glue, and I’d have found Jane and Taryn at the scrubbed wood table, sticking pinecones and acorns to lengths of string, or else tracing the outlines of leaves. Back then, the cabin had been full of life and laughter. Now it was dark and empty.
Still, it was home.
I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. I’d been back here only once since waking from the curse, to retrieve a few personal effects. I hadn’t lingered then. Hadn’t allowed myself the opportunity to be bogged down by the past. I didn’t intend to linger now, but…
I pushed the door open.
The hinges protested noisily. Jane would have had my head if they’d fallen into such a state while she was still alive. My lips twitched again. What was wrong with me? Was it an insult to her memory that thoughts of her didn’t wound me? Did this new state of happiness make me a monster? I couldn’t think of Taryn without another piece of me dying, after all. My memories of Jane were stained with the regret of all that had transpired, but for the most part, I looked back with fondness. It didn’t hurt.
I had loved her, once. I supposed a part of me still did; she had given me Taryn, a joy that had been ripped away far too soon, but that I would always cherish. But now, that long ago love had dulled to fondness. I hoped she’d had a happy life, somehow. That it had been full and healthy and good, but that was all. There was no longing, no regret, just a glimmer of that same hope for myself. That I could perhaps have those things, too .
Stale, dead air enveloped me. I left the door open behind me as I stepped cautiously into the open-plan kitchen and living area that made up the entire length of the cabin. Everything was exactly as I’d left it.
Finally, pain shot through me, forcing me to draw a shuddering breath.
Jane had clearly abandoned this place after all that happened. Perhaps she’d been unable to return to this emptiness. This silence. Without Taryn and all his mess and noise, the cabin was a crypt. I’d hoped that, if nothing else, Jane had not been left destitute. Not driven from her home. This place was mine, but I would gladly have embraced the thought of her living out her mortal days here, safe and secure, surrounded by memories. Instead, she had left.
Perhaps she had wanted to forget.
There was no forgetting for me, not as I waded through ghosts and history. On the far side of the cabin, a tatty collage of artwork peppered the raw wood walls. It drew me to it. Age-yellowed paper and faded paint filled the space. All mine. Once, Taryn’s masterpieces had been dotted amongst my own. They were all gone.
Jane had come back, then, if only to collect our son’s belongings. The things his little hands had created.
The thought was comforting and crippling in equal measure. To know she’d kept those things, that she’d seized whatever shred of comfort she was left with, made things a little less bleak, but now I was left with nothing.
I traced my fingers over a bare patch of wall. Where were those paintings now? Had they survived? Had Jane left them somewhere for me, in the hope that I would one day wake to find them ?
I blinked, clearing the moisture from my vision, and stepped back. A chill shivered over my skin. The pieces that remained, the things I had painted–scenery, mainly, skyscapes and clouds–glared down at me. Pink and lilac and blue. Here and there, treetops or rolling plains brought a splash of green. All the colours of Aliza’s hair. Well, the hair she’d loved.
My mouth went dry. Had some part of me known? Had I used those colours because, even then, I’d been drawn to them? Had I always been waiting for her?
The thud of my heart answered me with a resounding yes.
The prophecy spoke the truth; she had been destined to come to Neath, to wake me from my curse. If I had shouldered the responsibilities that I’d been born into, she would have been destined to rule at my side.
I’d made a mess of fate’s plan, and I didn’t know how to put it right. I’d made a mess of a lot of things, including Aliza’s life. She didn’t want any of this.
I sighed, turning my back on the wall of foretelling. This may be my home, but Aliza was in Nairsgarth, and I wasn’t going to leave her to brave this new life alone. This was a brief visit.
I headed to the bedroom, gritting my teeth and forcing out the memories that assaulted my senses. I didn’t want to think about any of it. It was over. Ancient history.
I wrenched open the tiny wardrobe. Jane’s half was empty, and I'd already taken a few of my own items, but my reason for being here today hung among the musty folds. The leather was as soft and supple as it had ever been as I extracted it, a flurry of anticipation stirring in my chest .
I stripped, changing into my trusty old flight suit. Even after centuries wasting in a tomb, my body still filled it nicely, an unforeseen benefit of my dear old uncle’s curse. Eternal sleep meant eternal preservation, apparently. Anwir and I should have starved long ago, wasting away to dust within our tombs, and yet, we were unchanged. My hair hadn’t even grown, though, since waking, I’d resumed shaving.
I ran my hand over my jaw. Stubble rasped against my palm. There hadn’t been time this morning, and there wasn’t time now, not if I wanted to be back in Nairsgarth for lunch. Luckily, I had a good idea of where I was going.
Stuffing my discarded clothes into a pack and hastily shouldering it, I left the cabin, sparing only a brief glance into the past as I closed the door behind me. I’d be back, no doubt, but for now, I was happy to dwell in the present, with the living.
As soon as I crossed the wards, I teleported.
As predicted, Saeth had returned to the herd of free roaming winged horses, but when I announced my arrival with a whistle, he answered, breaking away from the others with a bellowing neigh.
I smiled as he careened toward me, mighty white wings flared in greeting. Anyone else might view his boisterous approach and believe they were about to be trampled, but I’d known this boy since his birth. True, he was all but an old man now at over three hundred years old, but there was plenty of spirit in him yet. We wouldn’t have all the time together that I’d once hoped for, but at least Aliza had given me the opportunity to spend his twilight years with him.
Saeth slowed to a trot as he drew close, arching his neck. I fished a biscuit out of the deep pocket on my thigh, and he wasted no time in snaffling it up the moment he reached me.
“Hello, Saeth.” I scratched his favourite spot beneath his mane. “I hope you’re feeling speedy today.”
The horse pricked his ears, surveying me with clear blue eyes as he crunched his treat. My smile widened to a grin. “I’m having lunch in Nairsgarth. With Aliza.”
He snorted enthusiastically, ruffling his great wings. The last time he’d seen Aliza, she’d been dead. Perfect and healed, but dead. “She’s alright. She’s going to be just fine.”
He tossed his head in approval, his wings drooping slightly in relief. He had a soft spot for Aliza. We both did. Well, mine wasn’t always soft…
“What do you say?” I asked before I could head too far down that particular path. “Can we make it back in time?”
The left wing dropped low, an invitation for me to vault onto his broad, bare back. I didn’t need telling twice. I sprang up, adjusting my seat and gathering a handful of his long, pale grey mane, but Saeth didn’t immediately take to the skies. He twisted his neck, peering up at me, the question plain in his eyes. One ear swivelled in my direction.
“One,” I insisted, lifting my finger to back up my words. “It was just one kiss. Perhaps two. Almost three, if you’re pushing for the truth.”
He blew out a great, huffing breath, his lips rippling.
“Yes, alright, fine. I’d like there to be a lot more.”
Without further questioning, Saeth launched us skyward.