Chapter 3
Chapter three
“‘Walk the land. Talk to the land. Know Sídhetír,’ Father repeats on an almost daily basis. He says I will feel Sídhetír when the mantle shifts, and he says the urge to be around the land will be almost constant. I do not feel whatever it is he wants me to. Is something wrong with me because I would much rather take tea in the library?” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age twelve.
We rode across the gentle, sloping hills, which were covered in a thick layer of snow.
The barren trees of the forest loomed before us, the shifting shadows dancing on the ground from the slight breeze that raced playfully across the land.
We didn’t enter the woods, even though Cethin was present and was ample protection from whatever might be lurking.
However, fae wandered among the trees, and they could be dangerous, given the right circumstances.
Since Aidan had become the lord, he’d started to allow more and more fae to enter through the gate deep within the forest. He wanted to establish more regular trade, and not just with the noble fae managing the affair, but rather with the common fae who created and sold the products.
As such, more fae were about. Aidan kept close watch on them, but still, fae were unpredictable and dangerous.
Besides, not all were sentient—some were animals, far stronger and deadlier than our own.
“Are you excited about school, Oren?” Phineas asked as he directed his horse next to mine.
“Yes,” I said truthfully. I was excited, even though there was a gaping pit in my gut at the thought of leaving. “Wellington is one of the top schools.”
“I’m aware,” Phineas replied dryly.
“We did go there after Bancroft,” Sevrin commented with a good-natured laugh.
They had. They all had. Every one of my brothers had gone to Bancroft at twelve before attending Wellington for an education.
I’d been the only one kept at home and tutored with Aidan.
At the time, Aidan had been a ward of Byrne Manor, unknowing of who and what he was, so he’d been grateful for the education and had told me as much.
Now, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d regretted not going to school like I did.
Could he have even left?
When I’d thought I was the heir, Father had told me multiple times I couldn’t leave the bounds of Sídhetír without consequences—deadly consequences. If Aidan had attempted to leave all those years ago, would we have learned much sooner who we both were—him the heir and me the fake?
A needle prodded my heart at the thought. I’d been nothing but a fake to hide Father’s illegitimate, bastard son. Useless. Unneeded.
“Oren, are you well?” Cethin asked.
I glanced at him, and he was staring straight at me with his pitch-black eyes, which sent a shiver down my spine. How Aidan stared into those fathomless, ancient eyes was a mystery. I didn’t understand the appeal.
Phineas and Sevrin both turned in my direction, and I waved them off. I was fine, completely, besides my maudlin thoughts.
We continued to ride along the edge of the forest, and I kept my eyes on the trees, watching the shadows bounce and chase one another.
I tried to rein in my spiraling thoughts about my place in this world.
Three months ago, I could’ve told anyone exactly who I was and what was expected of me.
There had been no doubts. Plenty of annoyance at a fate I didn’t want, but not a single doubt.
Now, I didn’t know who I was. I was the eighth son of Jonathan Byrne, who’d only needed seven sons to continue the line and the magical contract. I’d been trained to inherit Sídhetír, and now I didn’t have to.
This was one of the reasons I wanted to go to Wellington.
Yes, I’d always desired to learn, but part of me wanted to leave so I could discover who I was without Sídhetír and all of my brothers looming over me.
I wasn’t the heir or lord, and I didn’t want to feel those expectations any longer.
I wanted to know who I was outside of this place, and yet…
I felt oddly guilty. I could leave, and Aidan could not.
A flash in between the trees made me blink, drawing me out of my thoughts and toward my surroundings.
Cethin, Sevrin, and Phineas had pulled some distance away from me.
If some fae came barreling out of the woods, then I would be at risk.
Another rustle sounded, and I paused, catching a glimpse of brown hair and the back of what appeared to be a dress.
What—or rather who?
I spurred my horse onward, but inexplicably, my gaze was drawn toward the forest. A tug on my gut sent my heart racing, and the hairs on the nape of my neck rose while sweat gathered on my temples.
I swallowed, eyes wide as I searched the naked trees.
Something pricked along my neck, then down my spine, almost as if I was being watched.
A figure appeared like magic before me, and my horse reared with a loud cry. My legs clamped to my mare’s sides as I fought to keep my seat.
“Trying to run me over, are you, Mr. Byrne?” a feminine voice demanded.
“Iris,” I said, breathless. It was merely Iris. Nothing horrid lurked beneath the boughs of the trees, though that same pull drew my eyes to the woods once again. Quickly, I trained my gaze on Iris.
She stared at me with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. Her brown hair was scattered with gray and in a single plait over her shoulder.
She had a broad form, as most light fae did, sun-kissed skin, and amber-brown eyes.
Iris was close friends with Aidan, and he’d kept her a secret from us because she asked him to, which still hurt.
There was a time when I’d thought that neither Aidan or I would keep secrets from each other, and yet here we were.
It’s not as if I didn’t understand why Aidan had hidden her from us, from me.
He’d worried for her safety, I supposed, since she had come through one of the more precarious paths into Sídhetír rather than the gate, the only legal entrance according to the fae rulers.
Or perhaps he didn’t wish for the teasing about a “lover” in the woods.
All Aidan had said about it was that Iris had asked him not to tell, and so he hadn’t.
I glanced at Phineas and Sevrin, and thankfully, they’d noticed my absence and had started back for me with Cethin trailing them.
“I see you brought a whole group of brothers, as usual,” Iris commented, as she looked in the same direction as me.
“They just arrived,” I defended.
“I suppose they have, though one of them seems to always be lingering about.”
I had no response, as I often didn’t when Iris spoke. “Why are you here?”
“Can’t I be?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
Phineas, Sevrin, and Cethin all rode up, saving me.
“Iris,” Cethin said. “I see you left the forest.”
“Prince Cethin. I see you’ve stopped hovering over Aidan for every moment of every day,” she replied.
Sevrin glanced at me with a cocked eyebrow, and I shook my head.
Phineas and Sevrin hadn’t interacted with Iris much, but I’d seen her more than a handful of times.
She cared deeply for Aidan, acting like he was her child, but she couldn’t seem to be polite to Cethin.
Cethin, for his part, seemed more amused by her antics than anything.
I couldn’t understand it. Iris had stabbed Cethin before he and Aidan had become mates, nearly killing him, but Cethin didn’t care.
He’d even claimed her actions had brought him to Aidan.
“Ah,” Iris said, reaching into the bag slung over her shoulder. She pulled out several plain tins, and I fought a blush. She threw each of us one.
“What is this?” Phineas asked, opening it.
“Lubrication. Happy fucking.”
Sevrin snorted, covering his mouth, while Phineas gaped at her, slamming his mouth shut after the barest moment. My cheeks were on fire as I tucked the tin into my coat. Cethin merely held his hand out for more, and she tossed him another tin.
The first time I’d met Iris, she’d slapped the tin into my hand and told me it was good for when I was alone or with company. I’d been mortified. Aidan had blustered and blushed as he’d scolded Iris. But every time, she’d asked if I needed more.
She was an odd one, but she was a fae, so I supposed it made some sense.
“I don’t know what to say,” Phineas eventually got out.
Sevrin was still covering his mouth as if he was swallowing peals of laughter.
“Don’t say anything,” Cethin advised. “Accept her generous gift and use it as you desire. That is what I and Aidan do.”
“Dear brother-in-law,” Sevrin finally said, voice light with humor, “that was something none of us needed to know.”
Cethin scoffed. “Aidan and I hardly hide our mutual affection. Us using Iris’s gift cannot be a surprise.”
“Not a surprise,” he replied. “Merely unwanted information.”
“Noted,” Cethin said. He faced Iris. “Why are you wandering Sídhetír?”
“I can wander where I want, can’t I?”
“Indeed, but why are you here? Aidan would be bereft if something happened to you, though I suppose Sídhetír is safe enough.”
Iris hesitated, and I saw her relent right before my eyes. She might not like Cethin, but she cared about Aidan. “I sensed something odd in the woods, so I went searching.”
“Odd?” Cethin asked, looking at the trees.
“I do not know, only that I’ve never sensed its like before. My magic is not as strong as yours or Aidan’s now, half-fae though he might be, so I couldn’t find whatever it was.”
He nodded. “I will tell Aidan.”
I almost mentioned the sensation of someone watching me, but I swallowed it. I was human, through and through, without even a drop of magic. That gut instinct was probably nothing more than Iris wandering among the trees.