Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
“Reading can be a balm to the soul, and yet it can also be a shock to your foundations. I have found that, at times, I read something so perverse to my own thinking that I need a good few days to reevaluate my own assumptions.” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age twenty-one.
Georgie had claimed the sole chair for their use; they called it their entitlement for being the eldest, which clearly didn’t count Abnus.
Sevrin, Abnus, and I had been relegated to the rug.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. There were pillows aplenty to rest on and the blazing fire kept the cold at bay.
Abnus had been correct that coming outside to read had helped my focus; that and my brother and in-law’s presences assisted as well. I couldn’t very well attack Abnus with them both looking on.
I set the dusty tome I was reading down and reached for Rhett’s journal.
Something about reading his most private thoughts had me cringing away.
Unlike the other Sídhetír memoirs, this journal hadn’t been written for others to see, and I felt as if I was invading his privacy, which was utterly ridiculous.
Rhett was long dead, and he was past mortal cares such as privacy.
Carefully, I moved the crackling pages and read the faded ink.
Rhett hadn’t been a prolific journaller in his youth, which, I supposed, was a benefit to us.
I couldn’t imagine having to wade through several volumes to find nuggets about his sister the necromancer.
What he was, though, was a succinct writer.
He didn’t wax on about his emotions or his day to day life, and instead wrote about the more important aspects that were happening in his life as well as the province and kingdom as a whole.
Every page seemed to detail something new, even though it skipped months or even years at a time. I slowly read through, my eyes tired from trying to decipher the faded ink and hurried writing, when I came to an abrupt stop.
“Harriet said there is another, and I have no notion why she would think it was so.
Yet, she is certain. She has told me she can sense another necromancer walking among the land.
I hope, for her sake, it is an older and more experienced sorcerer, so they can teach her.
Also then we might find a cure for her ailment.
“I have heard, of course, about the plague of necromancy eating away at one’s body, but she looks almost as if she is a pile of bones. No matter how much she eats, she never changes and grows wan before my very eyes.”
My heart stuttered and stopped. There was another one, which means there might still be another line of necromancers who lived in Sídhetír. Necromancy, like all magic, traveled down family lines, and like my tainted blood, there might be another who was now reeking of havoc.
The next passage was dated a little over three months later and it was short.
“Harriet has killed Barclay. She claimed that he was unable to assist her, and from my sight alone, I agreed.
Harriet is as thin as ever and her hollow eyes have turned to black pits that draw and yet repulse me.
She has grown stronger, though, so perhaps Barclay was not a waste.
I do wish she had not killed him. Harriet is seeming more and more eager for violence, so I have decided to give it to her.
“The fae are a plague on our land, killing our people, so let her be a plague upon them.”
I’d known that the bloodshed went both ways, but to see it so plainly written was oddly painful.
I knew the end of this story, and peace wouldn’t happen until six of Rhett’s seven sons died, and in his grief and madness, he had his sister bind all the fae entrances, or at least the stable ones, into one gate forged with the blood of his children.
“Are you well, Mr. Byrne?” Abnus asked, lowering his book.
“No,” I said, setting my own down. The past shouldn’t affect me so, but all of the bloodshed was painful, causing little knives to plunge into me.
I wished peace had happened a different way, or sooner.
I wished that necromancy didn’t taint my blood.
I wished that Aidan was free. I wished for so many things, but as Abnus had said, the past could not be unwritten.
Abnus stood and drew me to my feet. He took my arm and said, “I’m taking Mr. Byrne for a walk.”
Georgie just waved him off as they drank their wine.
Sevrin gave me an evaluating glance before nodding at Abnus, who led me away to the more crumbling parts of the castle.
We found the stairs that lead to the single remaining tower.
Silently, we climbed the steep steps of the round staircase, which had a definite tilt to the right.
When we came to the top, Abnus pulled me close, his lips finding my cheeks and kissing away the tears that had escaped my control. “Oh, a ghrá,” he muttered, his lips soft and undemanding.
I felt like such a weak fool to cry as often as I did, and yet my emotions couldn’t be denied. I gave into it and threw my arms about Abnus, and he held me gently.
I had no notion as to why I was crying, and it seemed rather ridiculous even to my own sensibilities, and yet I couldn’t force the sobs down. Abnus continued to stroke my back as he uttered soothing sounds.
“I’m sorry,” I said, squeezing him tight.
“For what?”
“My tears.”
Abnus gently pushed me back and framed my face with his palms. “Why would you apologize for them?”
I scoffed. “All I have been doing of late is crying.”
“That is hardly true.”
“It is,” I rejoined. “I don’t see anyone else crying.” I gestured to the empty tower as the wind whistled through the ruins’ gaps. “None of my brothers are. Georgie most certainly is not. You’re not.”
“A person’s worth is not measured by how many tears they do or do not shed within their lifetime. Your value is not diminished for the sadness you feel, nor is your character. There is no shame in your tears.”
My chin wobbled as a fresh batch slid down my cheeks.
Abnus soothed them away. “Do not hate your emotions or your kind heart. Both are you, and both are lovely.”
“Thank you.”
He pressed a long kiss to my forehead. “I shall endeavor to wipe your tears away as much as I am able.”
I gripped his waist to pull him flush to me, and Abnus did as he said; he brushed the tears away as I mourned the past bloodshed that I couldn’t change, and even if I could, would I?
Rhett’s sons dying and Harriet forging the gate with Byrne blood and magic had brought me to this point with Abnus, and nothing on this earth or in any realm could force me to regret him in my arms.