Chapter 8
Chapter eight
“Father’s making me stay in my room today. I snuck out to see Aidan yesterday. I hate Father and Mrs. Ryan. She brought me home when me and Aidan were playing. I hate being the heir.” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age seven.
Iglanced up at Aidan's bookroom window. He’d returned exceedingly early this morning or late last night; I wasn’t sure which.
He and Father, as well as Cethin and Lord Abnus, had secluded themselves inside, not including anyone else.
I’d tried to join whatever meeting was taking place, but I’d been refused at the door, though Thomas and Whit had been allowed inside this afternoon.
I shot another glare at the window, though I doubted any of them could see me. There had been a time, not too long ago, that I would’ve rejoiced at not being included in whatever matters were affecting Sídhetír, but now, I found it irritating to be excluded. I was as capable as any of my brothers.
Or at least, I wanted to be. I was, wasn’t I? Perhaps that was why Aidan was no longer confiding in me. He didn’t trust me to assist him. Was I as worthless as I felt? I hoped not.
Someone came up behind me, the cleared gravel walk announcing their approach, or two someones from the double footsteps I heard. Sevrin came up on one side while Phineas crowded me from the other.
Phineas pulled me into a side hug, holding me tight. “They’re not trying to hurt you, Oren.”
I spared my older brother a slight glance and frowned.
Out of all of us, he resembled Father the most, with his golden-blonde hair, fair green eyes, and strong jaw; they could be twins if not for the years separating them.
The resemblance was enough to annoy me at the moment.
While most of my temper was pointed directly at my own failures, a fair amount was directed at Father.
If he hadn’t kept this secret for the entirety of my life, then I wouldn’t be feeling this right now.
“I know that,” I replied, shrugging out of his embrace.
“Even we don’t know what’s going on,” Sevrin commented.
That didn’t make me feel better. From all the secrets that had been kept from Aidan, you would think he’d detest keeping them from us. We could all help him, if he allowed.
“I’m being ridiculous,” I said with a chuckle, though the pain didn’t lessen.
“No,” Phineas replied, “you’re lonely.”
A bolt crashed through my heart and made me stall in my step. Lonely? Why on earth would I be lonely? Aidan was always here, even if he was busy, as were Mother and Father. Nevan and Neil had yet to leave for town. Why would I be lonely surrounded by all these people?
Phineas tousled my hair, and I didn’t respond, my thoughts latching onto the word “lonely.” I couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. The dark feeling deep within me returned with a vengeance. Was it loneliness or something more?
Sevrin suggested, “How about we go for a ride?”
I was unsurprised at this solution.
“Come on, Oren,” Sevrin said. “It’ll be fun.”
“Fine,” I sighed.
We headed to the stable, and all of my early anger vanished. It would be nice to spend time with Sevrin and Phineas. They were at Byrne Manor more often than Thomas or Whit, but I still missed them when they weren’t here.
Sevrin tried to woo Eibhlin as soon as we entered the stable, but the fae horse rebuffed him, shying away from him and leaning toward Phineas.
She nuzzled Phineas’s shoulder as he lightly stroked her neck.
I tried to contain my laughter at Sevrin’s betrayed expression, but I couldn’t, chuckling long and loud.
At the uproarious noise, Sevrin smiled at me, ruffling my hair.
After the stablehands saddled our horses, we left the manor grounds and headed toward the village of Elmbury.
The road was well-kept and made for an easy ride to the sleepy village.
Buildings appeared, squashed between the hills.
The houses and shops had turrets and lovely windows.
A crumbling wall surrounded the whole of it, and a well sat in the village center.
Today was market day. Though it was the afternoon, most of the vendors were still displaying their wares.
I spotted more than one fae among them. During the three months Aidan had been Lord of Sídhetír, he’d brought in more fae sellers than during the entire time Father had held the same title.
Aidan had never discussed exactly why, beyond establishing regular trade, but I thought he possessed more reason than increasing our already full coffers.
When we arrived, we all dismounted, leading our horses behind us.
The nippy air made me draw my scarf tighter, and the soggy gray snow squelched under my boots with every step.
People meandered every which way, and vendors called out to the passersby.
Elmbury was by no means large, but it certainly appeared more populous when there were deals to be had.
Together, we looked at the wares available.
Neither Sevrin or Phineas actually seemed interested, but I had several coins burning a hole in my pocket, and I was looking for a Christmas present.
I had one for each of my family members, but I had nothing for Lord Abnus, as I hadn’t wanted to raise my hopes that he’d actually be here for the holiday.
My gaze wandered over the bolts of cloth, a fine carving knife, and some lovely gloves before I paused on a well-crafted brooch.
The delicate silver swirls curled around a deep red ruby.
I’d never seen anything quite its equal before.
I glanced up to ask the vendor who the craftsman was, and I froze.
A light fae stood on the other side of the table.
Their golden hair curled about their tapered ears in loose waves.
Their tan skin and broad frame were indicative of the light fae they were, as were their deep brown eyes flecked with gold and green.
They were lovely, as most fae were with their glamour, but they didn’t strike me as a noble fae.
They were significantly taller than me, which was hardly surprising, and, yes, lovely, but there was a roughness about them, not the same air of power that came off the noble fae.
“This is a lovely brooch,” I said.
They bobbed a bow, worn hands wringing. “Very kind of you to say so. I craft them myself.”
“You are skilled in your work.”
“Such kind words, Mr….”
I hesitated. It was said fae could control each other with their true names. I was human, so the same didn’t hold true for me, but spouting off my name to strangers didn’t seem wise. However, I could hardly not answer. That was rude. Social pressure warred against common wisdom.
“Oren Byrne,” I said eventually.
“As I live and breathe, one of the Byrnes.”
“Indeed.”
“You may call me Dris,” they said with a bow, gripping the edge of their rough brown jacket. Their fingers occasionally patted their pocket at random intervals.
“You do lovely work, Dris.” My breath caught when I caught sight of a ring. It was a wreath of black thorns. Why such a thing would interest me was a mystery, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. For some reason, it reminded me of Lord Abnus.
I’d never seen the tattoos I knew Lord Abnus had decorating his body—fae marks he’d received when he became an adult—but I wondered if they were thorns.
I’d never truly glimpsed Cethin’s mark or the one he’d placed on Aidan, since both were quite secretive about them, but I knew it was thorns because I’d seen the base of Aidan’s on his wrist.
Did Lord Abnus’s tattoo resemble his cousin’s?
“Do you like this, kind sir?” Dris asked, holding up the ring.
I nodded, unable to reply.
“Then you may like its companion. Crafted them, I did, to go together.” Dris offered up the second one, which was similar to the first. It was another ring of thorns, but this ring was much longer.
The thorns would curl up past the middle knuckle of whomever wore it, and small rubies were set along the vine like drops of blood.
It would look ludicrous on my short fingers, but the image of it on Lord Abnus’s graceful digits flooded my thoughts and wouldn’t be banished. I had to have them, and I asked the price. Dris quoted more than the few coins I carried, but it wasn’t an unreasonable amount.
Sevrin and Phineas appeared as I tried to think of a way to get more coins from my cache at the manor before market day ended.
“What’s the problem?” Sevrin asked.
“I don’t have enough,” I whispered.
Phineas asked Dris, “How much?”
But the light fae didn’t respond. They were staring at Sevrin, their eyes wide and their breath harsh. Their hand slipped into their pocket and clutched something, hand shaking, as they continued to look at Sevrin with an unreadable expression.
“How much?” Sevrin repeated.
Dris spat out the cost, ripping their gaze from Sevrin. Phineas handed over the entire amount without blinking an eye. I tried to protest—I could pay for half the cost myself and reimburse him once we returned—but he waved it off.
“I’m sorry,” Dris whispered.
“For what?” I asked, blinking, but they weren't looking at me. They were staring at Sevrin with such sadness in their brown eyes that I pulled back.
Dris didn’t answer my question or speak further and started to pack up their wares, completely ignoring us.
“Odd fellow,” Sevrin commented as we continued through Elmbury.
“Indeed,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at the fae. “Very odd.”
They had looked at Sevrin with such intensity and sadness.
I’d have to ask Aidan about Dris. He’d personally met with each and every fae that he allowed to sell within Sídhetír or that was simply passing through.
He would know who Dris was. I hated to suspect the light fae of doing anything when they’d been merely peculiar, but something about the way they had stared at Sevrin set me on edge.
When the air suddenly grew colder and clouds began to form, we headed toward home.
Worry plucked like strings in my heart as I stared at the growing storm.
I couldn’t say if it was a natural occurrence or if Aidan was upset.
It was impossible to tell without laying eyes on my brother, but I wanted to.
I had to assure myself that Aidan was well, even if he didn’t need me and excluded me from whatever had happened.
Phineas, who was in the lead, yanked his horse to a screaming halt, causing me Sevrin and I to suddenly stop. My mare reared, and I leaned forward, managing to keep my seat, but my pulse thundered in the ears.
“Iris, what in God’s name are you doing?” Sevrin demanded. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”
She stood in the middle of the road, her gray-threaded brown hair hanging free down her back. Her clothes were a mess, and a pack was slung over her shoulder. “No need to invoke your deity,” she said, “though this may indeed be the time for it, if such a time exists.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, maneuvering to Phineas’s side.
“Something is afoot in the woods. Something dark, and I don’t mean dark fae trickery. This is something I’ve never experienced.”
“What?” I asked, my gut rolling and a tug pulled me toward the trees.
She looked at me, her brown eyes turning a burning gold that glowed with an internal fire. “Evil, Oren Byrne. Evil walks beneath the trees.”