Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
“Lessons are horrible, but lectures for misconduct are much worse.” – from the diary of Oren Byrne, age sixteen.
“How could you possibly think that was a wise decision?
" Father said, his low voice almost growing to a yell but not quite. Even though the forces of Sídhetír were no longer tethered to Father’s emotions, he still kept himself in check.
Perhaps it was a habit? Or mayhap he had an internal calmness with infinite wells for his eight sons.
I leaned most resolutely to the former.
Georgie, Sevrin, and I were in Aidan’s bookroom as Father questioned our sanity. Abnus was excluded from the discussion, as he wasn’t Father’s child or responsibility. I also couldn’t imagine Lord Abnus being questioned or almost yelled at, even by Father.
The rest of our time at the ruins had been rather boring.
Abnus and I had remained away from the great hall for at least a quarter of an hour, and we’d only returned once I’d gained control of my emotions.
Georgie had barely marked our absence or our eventual return, but Sevrin gave me a salacious grin, even though our clothes weren’t mussed and nothing untoward had occurred.
When we arrived at Byrne Manor, we’d made for the library to return some of the books that we’d managed to read as well as summon tea to warm up. We’d been almost instantly waylaid by Mrs. Kelly.
The housekeeper had tutted at the snow we tracked over her pristine floors. She’d even scolded Abnus, and the fae lord had borne it with a bowed head. No one stood against Mrs. Kelly in regards to the cleanliness of the manor, not even Aidan or Father.
While Mrs. Kelly was berating us, Father had discovered us and ordered me to follow him for yet another lecture.
In the course of my life, I hadn’t received as many lectures as my brothers, but I’d had my fair share of them.
Father did certainly adore giving them, if the frequency of distributing them was evidence.
“Are you listening, Oren?” Father asked.
I hadn’t been, but I was hardly going to admit that. I nodded solemnly.
“Then, pray tell, answer my question. Why did you think now was a good time to read in the ruins? You are a learned man now and you should have an answer for me,” he replied, crossing his arms.
For all of a second—no, not even that. A moment. A breath. A flash of lightning—I hated the fact that I wasn’t Lord of Sídhetír. Because if I was, I wouldn’t answer to Father; I wouldn’t answer to anyone. I would be my own man, perceived as a true adult and able to refuse them any request.
But the moment passed, and on its heels was relief.
I didn’t want Sídhetír. I wanted freedom, not shackles to a land that didn’t and wouldn’t love me as it did Aidan.
Though, as perverse as it was, the dark emotion I’d thought I’d banished returned full force.
It flooded my stomach and spread through my veins like poison.
“I believed that some fresh air would aid in our research,” I stupidly said. I couldn’t for the life of me think of a good response. How was I to tell my father that my ardor for Abnus was too strong to remain inside with him?
Sevrin covered his mouth to most certainly hide a smile, and Georgie shook their head.
“Is there not fresh air right outside?” Father demanded.
“Indeed, but the ruins are a new perspective."
Father closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Oren, now is not the time to dally about just because you can.”
I jerked back as if I’d been struck. I’d given the first twenty-one years of my life to Sídhetír and its people. I had never, not once, dallied about. Even now, I was researching and working to help them.
“Father, that’s hardly fair,” Sevrin said.
He gave Sevrin a harsh look that silenced my elder brother.
A longing for Aidan rose with a fierceness that took my breath away. He wouldn’t be silenced. Aidan had always shielded me, and he wouldn’t have allowed Father to speak so to me.
But was that what I wanted? To be shielded and protected for the rest of my life? I often felt as if I was a delicate flower that was grown in the hothouse. I could not survive or thrive outside of the carefully cultivated environment around me, but I wanted to.
My family certainly treated me as delicate, and I confessed that I treated myself that way as well. But I was not. I knew it. I hoped it. I aimed to prove it.
I stood, and Father’s eyes widened. I said, allowing my voice to show my rare anger, “I have sacrificed everything to Sídhetír because you were too weak and cowardly to admit your own dalliance, Father.”
His expression darkened, but I continued, “I gave my life to this land and people who are not mine. I am still dedicated to helping. I’m not a foolish child who you can order and bully around anymore. I went to the ruins to read. I will not apologize, because I did nothing wrong.”
Without waiting to be excused, because I didn’t need to, as Father was no longer lord of this land or my lord, I left the bookroom with my head held high and anger beating in my chest.
If I desired others to see the strength that I hoped lay within me, then I had to show them.
I had to stand on my own two feet. There would be a whole slew of decisions I wished to make that my parents and society wouldn’t approve of, and I had to learn to fight against them and not allow other people’s opinions to bother me any longer.
I strode through the halls, intent on retreating to my room, because while I believed I was right in standing up to my father, I felt tears burning in the backs of my eyes—it wasn’t easy to break the patterns of capitulating to his demands.
But as I entered the family wing, I noticed Mrs. Maher, our physician, walking toward the gates with a bundle of black hellebore in her hand.
Finding the closest door, I followed her, my longer steps catching up easily. “Mrs. Maher.”
She turned and gave me a lovely smile. Her round cheeks were flushed from the cold and her gray hair hidden beneath her simple bonnet. “Oh, Mr. Byrne, you startled me.”
“Did I?”
“Indeed. Did you need something?”
“No, I saw you leaving, and I wondered if you needed an escort.”
Mrs. Maher smiled broadly. “You are a sweet boy, but no. I’m off to Mr. Duffy’s house.”
I lifted my eyebrows. I’d seen Mr. Duffy not that long ago as he yelled at me from the graveyard. He’d appeared perfectly hale and hearty.
At my expression, she gave me a sad chuckle. “It’s not for him, mind you. His Sarah has seemed to have caught whatever took my Rachel and Mr. Duffy’s elder daughter Eileen but six months ago.”
Only six months ago, Rachel Maher and Eileen Duffy had fallen ill and nothing that Mrs. Maher had done helped. They’d both passed away quite suddenly, only days apart.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I finally said.
“Yes, but I believe I will save her,” Mrs. Maher said. “That is why I wished to borrow the book on fae medicine that Lord Byrne was kind enough to lend me. He even had his prince husband retrieve the herbs that Miss Murphy needs.”
That sounded like Aidan.
“I shall not fail her,” she finished.
Driven by an instinct I didn’t understand, I placed a hand on Mrs. Maher’s arm. A sudden feeling of understanding went through me. Mourning came in many shapes and forms, and while hers was much more significant a loss, I understood a thread of the tapestry of her grief.
“You did not fail Rachel.”
She wiped a tear from her plump cheek. “Oh, I know that, but my heart still disagrees with the logic my brain supplies.”
“I understand.”
Mrs. Maher patted my cheek. “You are indeed a very sweet boy, Oren Byrne.”
I smiled. I’d never been particularly close with Mrs. Maher, but I did like her, though, I was fairly certain this was the longest conversation I'd ever had with her.
“I should go. I need to see to Sarah.”
“Please let us know if you need anything.”
“Of course, Mr. Byrne.”
I watched her go as my thoughts returned to Mr. Duffy at the graveyard.
No wonder he had acted more angry than usual.
His younger daughter was now sick with the same thing that had taken his elder daughter.
The man had also lost his wife some years ago.
For all I know, his wife was one of the bodies that had been stolen.
That was a lot of grief and worry placed into a single person.
How was anyone supposed to bear up underneath the weight of all of that?
The day had passed rather sedately. I’d taken my meals in my room and read peacefully.
For the whole of the day, I’d expected Abnus to come to me, but he didn’t, and part of me was gutted at his absence.
But it was more than possible that he’d been busy attending to other duties that were far more important, or more immediate, than I.
However, as I lay in bed, sleep refused to take me. I wanted Abnus to be beside me, surrounding me in his arms as I drifted off. My prick twitched at the thought of his warm mouth around me, and then of him fucking my face, taking what he desired.
I groaned about to reach for the slick when a quiet knock sounded on my door. My pulse skittered and nerves raced down my spine, settling in my curling stomach. I knew who I hoped was on the other side of the door, but I feared it wasn’t him.
With a low creak the door slid open, and I smiled. “Would you like to come in?”
Abnus was inside and sliding the bolt before I even blinked. His mouth pressed against my forehead and his hands rucked up my sleeping shirt, revealing my hard cock. I lifted my arms, and he threw the nightshirt on the floor.
A low, appreciative sound rumbled in his chest as his amethyst eyes swept over me. “You are lovely.”
But when his hand reached for my twitching cock, I pushed him away.
“What, pet? Do you not desire my touch tonight?”
“I do, but I want to taste you first.”