Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
“Father often lectures me on making wise decisions, and I don’t understand why.
I have no choice in my life. I’m the heir who will one day be lord, I will marry who they choose, and I will do as I have been told.
What choice? My path is set and my future is stone.
” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age nineteen.
Iris had proven to be easily found because she’d been in the center of Elmbury, yelling at Mrs. Quirke, who was shrieking right back at her.
They had been verbally sparring once again, according to Sevrin.
Neither woman had backed down as they fought without reserve about their stance regarding Iris’s concoctions and their efficacy.
It had taken quite a bit of convincing, and Miss Quirke’s appearance, to sway the two apart.
Convincing Iris to go see a possible ghost and necromancer hadn’t been as easy.
She wanted nothing to do with it, nor did she care that we needed her help; we were not Aidan.
He alone held her affection. Sevrin and Phineas had asked and asked, but she wasn’t swayed until Miss Quirke had pleaded with her, talking about her poor friend, Mrs. Hillridge.
Finally, Iris had begrudgingly agreed to come—tomorrow.
So tomorrow we would travel to Hillridge Farm and seek the ghost. Though Miss Quirke had requested, through Sevrin, for me to meet her beforehand and speak to Mrs. Hillridge. I could hardly deny her that, and Sevrin agreed to come along.
I had yet to tell Abnus about it. We’d spent most of the morning in the library reading, and well, snuggling.
I’d enjoyed being wrapped in his arms, even with the disturbing discovery.
I had yet to confront Father about what I’d learned, but he had to have known what I would learn when he allowed me to read the journal.
With a sigh, I leaned back against the stable wall, resting on a bench. Sevrin cast me a glance, eyebrow raised. “What’s bothering you? Aidan’s absence or Lord Abnus’s presence?”
“Why would Lord Abnus be upsetting me?” I said, heat rushing to my cheeks.
He laughed, dragging a brush over his gelding’s back. “Oren, you’re as obvious as Aidan with your affection and twice as loud.”
My mouth fell open. We’d been discovered. I’d suspected, but I didn’t enjoy having it confirmed.
“My room abuts yours,” Sevrin said, and my blush burned even hotter. He laughed, abandoning his task and resting his elbows on the stall door. “Oh, Oren, your innocence was stolen right from under our noses. The baby is no longer a baby.”
I looked away.
“I was just teasing. It hardly matters that you lost your virginity or not, as long as it was consensual, and from the pleased cries I tried to drown out, I assume it was.”
I blushed even more but stayed silent.
“You’re still the same person you were before.”
“Abnus isn’t my first,” I said, biting my lip and staring at the stable door.
“What?”
I faced my older brother. “He wasn’t my first.”
“You never told us, so I assumed.” Sevrin exited the stall and crouched in front of me, his expression harsh. “Did someone harm you?”
“No,” I answered, giving him a slight smile. “I swear it.”
“Then why didn’t you tell us? I assume Aidan knows, but why not the rest of us?”
“Aidan doesn’t know.”
His black eyebrows drew together, forming a deep divot. “Why not?”
I closed my eyes, head falling back as I sighed. “Honestly? Because I feel ashamed.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed about. Sex is a natural part of life, regardless of what the church or society mandates.”
“Not for having sex, Sevrin.” I didn’t care about the church or societal expectations about remaining a virgin until marriage.
“Then for what?”
I met his steady gaze. I didn’t understand why I was confiding in Sevrin. It wasn’t that we weren’t close—I was close with all my brothers—but Aidan was who I usually sought. But Sevrin wouldn’t judge me, and he wouldn’t tease me when the topic was sensitive.
“Because I went to James for the wrong reason,” I confessed.
“I slept with him because he reminded me of Abnus. Sly and beautiful. James didn’t know or care who I was, and he saw me for me, not my lost title, not poor, sheltered Oren, not the unneeded Byrne.
He didn’t care that I just wanted to forget myself and my damn attraction to Abnus.
He was there, and that’s why, but I feel as if I betrayed my heart. ”
“Oh, Oren,” Sevrin said, resting a hand on my knee.
“First, you are not unneeded. We all very much need you. And I quite suspect that Aidan needs you far more than he’s saying.
Second, you haven’t betrayed yourself. You took what you needed when you needed it.
There is no shame in that. You did not betray yourself or Lord Abnus, if you’re worried about that. ”
“I haven’t told him,” I whispered.
Sevrin scoffed. “He can hardly judge. How old is Lord Abnus? I doubt he’s a virgin. Had the two of you exchanged an understanding before this tryst with James happened?”
“No. There’s no understanding between us.”
“Then he cannot get mad. Well, I suppose he can, but he has no right to. You did nothing wrong, Oren.”
Something in me unclenched at his words. I hadn’t lied to James—he’d known my heart resided elsewhere, and he hadn’t cared. Abnus and I had no understanding. I had done nothing wrong.
“Thank you.”
Sevrin smiled, standing. “There. All better now.”
“Not really.”
“I suppose the situation at hand with all this talk of ghosts and death is hardly ideal, but you’re happier now, are you not?”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?” Sevrin asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the stall. His horse lipped at his shoulder, and Sevrin petted the beast.
I glanced around; assured we were alone, I said, “Lord Abnus and I…” I shook my head. “He doesn’t want forever.”
His forehead creased. “How do you mean? He wants to fuck you but not marry you?”
I blushed at his blatant words. “He didn’t say that in such direct words, but I’m not his soul mate. Abnus cares, but he doesn’t want more.”
Sevrin shook his head. “Forever means something very different to him, Oren. Forever is literally forever. Noble fae do not die. They… I’m not actually sure what happens to them when they decide to no longer be alive.
Anyway, Lord Abnus might very well want you for the rest of your life, but perhaps not his.
That doesn’t seem unreasonable to me. Why should he? ”
I looked at my lap, tears gathering.
Feet padded over the floor before a hand nudged up my chin.
“Do not misunderstand me, little brother. You are special and amazing, but you’re tragically human.
Lord Abnus is not. It’s unfair to hold him to the same standard.
You want forever, but that means two radically different things to the two of you. ”
“I want him to love me,” I confessed, tears sliding down my cheeks.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, but he might not be able to. He might not be able to give you marriage, Oren, or eternity. All he might be able to give is right now and the rest of your life. You have to decide if that’s enough for you.”
I remained tucked away with Sevrin in the stable until dinner.
I was seated next to Abnus after I’d escorted him to the dining room, but I ignored him.
He kept trying to catch my eye, but I steadfastly focused on other things.
I was still thinking about what Sevrin had said. He had made several poignant points.
Abnus’s forever was certainly greater than mine.
But was half a romance enough for me? I didn’t know and until I did, I needed to keep a semblance of distance between me and Abnus. I didn’t want to hurt him or be hurt in return. Though staying away from the alluring dark fae was going to be hard.
Dinner was a quiet affair, everyone lost to their own thoughts.
Occasionally Frances would make an empty polite remark regarding the food, weather, or table setting.
None of us truly responded back. The only ones talking with any regularity were Mother and Father.
Her fair cheeks sported color as she laughed or tittered at what he said, while he looked at her with a soft expression I’d never seen before.
When dinner concluded, Mother invited everyone to the parlor for brandy, and I declined. I wasn’t the only one either. Everyone did, besides Georgie, Nevan, and Neil. I stepped into the hallway, ready to ensconce myself in bed in the hopes of getting some sleep before tomorrow.
“Would you like to read together again?” a rumbly voice asked behind me.
A shiver went up my spine and longing filled my stomach. I wanted to say yes and curl up against his chest, simply spending time with him. But I needed a moment to myself, to think.
With a forced smile, I turned around. “I’m really tired.”
Abnus tilted his head to the side, closing the distance between us. His long fingers stroked my cheek before cupping my face. Unable to help it, I leaned into his touch with a slight groan. His thumb brushed over my cheekbone.
Breath rushing over my face, he asked, “Are you ill?”
“No,” I replied, chuckling. “I’m tired. I just need to sleep.”
“If that is all…”
I wound my arms around his waist, settling against his chest, and Abnus enfolded me in his embrace. I said, voice muffled, “That’s all.”
He kissed the top of my head, and my stomach swooped. Distance was going to be difficult when I wanted Abnus this much, but it was more than physical. I liked Abnus for who he was. The care he showed, the quiet steadiness, and the harsh edge that bled through his polite manner.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Abnus released me. He cupped my cheek again. “I will see you in the morning.”
“You will,” I said, going up on my toes to kiss his chin. Abnus didn’t attempt to pull away, and that made me smile. He trusted me to honor his wishes regarding kissing, and I would. I said in a teasing voice, “Good night, Lord Abnus.”
“Good night, Mr. Byrne,” he replied in kind.
I slipped away, winding through the halls toward my bedroom, but paused when something caught my eye.
A flash of white and gold. The same woman as before stood barefoot in the snow, staring up at the moon through the wispy clouds.
Her thin white night gown hung around her lithe frame, flaring in the breeze, and her blonde hair fluttered about her like the delicate wings of a moth.
She shouldn’t be outside in this weather, dressed in so little, and sick. I weaved back downstairs and outside to join her in the garden. When I got closer, the niggling sensation of familiarity returned.
For some reason, I kept thinking about Father talking to someone, saying no to a request. It was hazy, and I truly only recalled hiding behind Aidan as I always did when things grew tense.
“You should go inside, Miss.”
“Why?” she asked, not turning to look at me. “I’m just as cold inside.”
The manor was kept warm enough, even in the servants’ quarters. I tried again, “You’re ill.”
“Am I?”
I didn’t know what to say and I could hardly physically move her—she was taller than me and it wouldn’t be right to touch her—so I looked up at the stars with her.
The moon was bright despite the waning, and its face was covered in light clouds.
The stars glimmered in the black ink of the sky.
The crisp air burned with each inhale and became a cloud with each exhale.
“What’s troubling you, Mr. Byrne?”
“Do I seem troubled?” I asked.
Finally, she looked at me with her light blue eyes, which were once again familiar and brought forth the same hazy memory—from a couple years ago perhaps. There was no expression on her round face, and her skin was frightfully pale. “You are sighing.”
Was everyone able to see my emotions? “I’m contemplating forever and promises. I want a commitment for my life, love, I suppose, but who I want may not be able to give me that.”
“Promises for the future are hard to guarantee,” she commented.
“What do you mean?”
“What you plan and what comes to be are two very different things, Mr. Byrne. We can promise things, but how are we to know that what’s to come and even our own selves will remain the same?”
I looked at her, heart pounding.
“The future is not guaranteed, Mr. Byrne,” the woman said. “Human promises are no more than a hope for the future. To accept what is rather than what might be is better.”
“So no one should make promises or plans?” I asked with a scoff.
“Of course not. To hope, to plan, to promise is mortal. We all wish for things. What I mean is that it’s better to live now than for some future moment that may never come to pass.
” She looked back at the moon. “My own future is not what I thought, and eternity seems rather cold to me. A neverending winter where chances and choices are no longer important. The present is a gift.”
“I’m leaving here in the spring,” I said, not exactly sure why. “And yet I want eternity.”
“Perphaps the warmth of spring will take us both.”
“Perhaps.”
She started to walk away, her voice drifting on the wind, “What choices will you make now, Mr. Byrne, that will affect tomorrow and the day after? Your present is what makes future promises possible.”
Choices. I had choices. What an odd concept.