37. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Two weeks. It had been two whole weeks since that night—since his mouth claimed mine, since his teeth dragged over my lip, since his hands wrapped my legs around him and burned me alive. Only to vanish in his usual fucked up fashion.
Turn my world inside out, then disappear.
Tairngire had left the castle without warning, leaving only vague excuses from the king when I asked after him at dinner. He never said where he went. Caedmon wouldn’t dare.
So, I trained, every morning. Leathers, braids, the courtyard. The half-born circled, sparring, grunts and steel. Sometimes, I caught Scáthae watching from the balcony, sharp eyes calculating. But she never summoned me, not once.
And because Tairngire had been absent, I hadn’t had another hand-to-hand combat session.
I didn’t trust myself to hold back divine visions yet, and quite frankly—duty or not—I was terrified of them.
Terrified that the Oracle would show up in my chambers and demand that I relay them to her.
With war looming in the distance, I simply didn’t want to know anything. So, I continued to shut them out.
It was always the same. Train. Break. Eat. Weight train. Dinner. Bed. Repeatedly. Fury—at him, at myself—kept me moving. But sometimes, it got me into trouble.
Like right now.
“Watch your guard,” Mairenn barked, parrying my sloppy strike with the ease of a mother swatting a child’s hand.
I growled, reset, then failed again.
She sighed, lowering her blade. “Enough.” The courtyard stilled at her command. She stood there glaring at me, hands on her hips. “What thoughts weigh so heavily that you can’t keep your stance?”
The wretched Forest God and the earth shattering kiss he left me with…
The words were stuck in my throat like tar. I swallowed them. “I…miss home,” I said instead.
A half-truth. Her expression softened slightly. “Ahh. The Seventh Realm.” She tilted her head. “What is it like there?”
Her question startled me. “You’ve never been?”
She shrugged. “Half-born may travel, yes. But not I. Not now,” her voice dipped lower. “There are soldiers from Cindraloch who pass through Anamcroí. The king forbids me to go near them. Dangerous men with dangerous sires. He wouldn’t risk me.”
I realized then that for all the power she carried here, there were still chains wrapped tightly around her. Something I could understand intimately.
Mairenn’s gaze lingered a beat longer, then let up. A grin tugged at her mouth, mischief replacing severity.
“Well,” she said, tossing her braid with flair, “it’s just as well your head is clouded. Weapons won’t serve you tonight.”
I tilted my head in confusion.
“At the end of this week, there will be a ball.” She swept her arm dramatically.
A ball? I almost laughed, but her eyes gleamed too brightly for it to be a joke. I’d certainly never attended one in Caer Anam, but I’d read about them. Morhaven was known for its decadent balls—mortals reveling in debauchery and worldly pleasures, stringed instruments playing in unison.
“You’re going to learn how to dance,” she added, voice lilting with a hint of sarcasm. “Properly. Not the clumsy steps mortals scrape together at harvest festivals in Caer Anam.
My stomach dropped. “Dance?”
“Yes,” she chirped, already pleased. “Half-born from another castle are coming. Allies. They’ll be joining us. You’ll meet them, and you'll do so with grace.”
I tried to picture myself graceful. I failed spectacularly.
“Who are these allies, exactly?” I asked warily, thinking of the last conversation Tairngire and I had about Neit and his ever growing forces.
“Half-born sired by Goibniu,” Mairenn said with mock reverence. “The Steel-Handed one. Forge-Born. His sons and daughters are warriors—disciplined, tempered like their father’s forge. Caedmon trusts them.” She shrugged.
Her eyes sparkled at the look of horror that was no doubt reddening my cheeks. “So! No more sparring today. Only dancing. Time you met the others here, Seer.” She curtsied with flair, I let out an exasperated sigh.
“Goddess save me,” I muttered under my breath as I followed her back into the castle.
The gown Aíne’s ladies forced over my head was modest by Cindraloch’s standards, but still finer than anything I’d ever worn in Anamcroí. Gray silk clung at my waist, light as water when I moved. I smoothed my hands over it once, unconvinced, before stepping into the corridor.
Mairenn waited, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Better,” she said, giving me a once-over. “You won’t embarrass me, at least.”
I bit back a retort and followed her down a hall I hadn’t seen before. The walls were lined with portraits of kings, generals, half-born rulers—gazes proud and unyielding. And all of them looked the same.
“The men will be there already,” Mairenn said, matter of fact.
“Warriors trained in steel and armor, forced into ballroom lessons.” She giggled with a roll of her eyes.
“Believe me when I tell you that there’s nothing funnier than a half-born warrior big enough to crush stone with his bare hands tripping over his own boots. ”
I laughed despite myself until the weight of her words sank in. I’d have to touch them. Half divine beings. "I’ve been...better,” I admitted, voice low. “At shutting the visions down. I can stop them now.”
The Oracle’s warning surfaced unbidden. I was supposed to stop resisting. But damn it, defiance was mine. Visions had plagued me since I was a child, and I had no intention of letting them continue if I could stop them. Not here, not now.
Mairenn brushed her fingers across the wall gently. “Tonight, you’ll prove you can do it. And if you can’t…” A wicked grin curved her mouth. “At least you’ll take down a warrior with you.”
I shook my head, but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. Mairenn was good people.
“But Aurenya…”she started, a serious look clouding her previously joyful expression. “Tomorrow I think you should try hand-to-hand….with someone else here.”
My eyes widened. Before I could shut her down, she held up a hand the way she always did when she knew I was about to fight her on something.
Her and I had become particularly close in these last few weeks, she stuck by my side and didn’t let any of her brothers or sisters so much as look in my direction.
She was a fierce protector, but it was becoming evident that she wouldn’t always be there to shield me.
“Hear me out…your visions are going to come whether you want them to or not.
You can continue to deny them, continue to try and shove them down.
But eventually, the Fates are going to demand more from you.
I think it would benefit you to test your ability to control them, because as I told you before, a vision could disable you in a critical moment.
Sparring with others is the only way to practice that.
I mean…just imagine, what if you could have a vision and have nobody know it?
That would be quite the accomplishment."
I stared at her, fear surely evident in my gaze. Her eyes softened and she gave me a look of sympathy.
“Just promise me you’ll at least consider it…”
I simply swallowed and nodded my head once, it was something I’d been thinking about. Something I really did need to consider if I ever wanted to improve my combat skills.
“Right. Well, here we are.” She waved her hands dramatically as the doors before us opened.
The ballroom was nothing like I expected. The vaulted ceiling stretched impossibly high. Chandeliers dripped with glass beads that caught the light of enchanted flames. But it wasn’t the grandeur that stilled me—it was the half-born.
On one side, the men lounged against the walls, laughter spilling loud and careless. On the other, the women stood in wide-eyed clusters dressed elegantly but their hands were still calloused, stances still those of warriors.
All bore Scáthae’s golden thread, some brighter than others, but her bloodline glowed faint beneath their skin like sunlight caught in veins.
Bloodlines are strong here.
The thought twisted. I leaned toward Mairenn, whispering before I could stop myself. “If you are all related…”
She burst into laughter, so loud the chatter in the room faltered. Dozens of eyes snapped toward us, curious. The Seer in their midst after two weeks of whispers. But just as quickly, they turned away again, feigning indifference.
My cheeks burned. “I don’t see what’s funny, Mairenn. I’m serious," I whispered.
She wiped a tear from her eye, grinning as though I’d just told the finest joke. “Oh, Aurenya. I always forget how innocent you are.” Her smirk tilted, mischief gleaming. I stared at her, unsettled.
“Bloodlines are important for royalty, sure,” she added, “but bonding doesn’t happen within a house.
That’s what allies are for. Most of Scáthae’s house is mixed with Aine’s blood.
It is rare to be a direct descendant of either goddess.
” She gave me a sly look. “It is only the king’s bloodline that remains pure.
The ball is going to be a spectacle. The younger half-born are buzzing about potential matches from Goibniu’s house. They are new to some.”
My heart thudded. The god-smith's children—steel and fire in their blood. This ball wasn’t only for revelry. It was to solidify alliances.
Before I could protest, Mairenn tugged me across the ballroom like an eager child. “Come, they’ve been dying to meet you.”
The cluster of girls turned at once, golden threads gleaming faint along their throats and wrists, dimmer than Mairenn’s, not direct descendants. But, warriors nonetheless, even in practice gowns.
“This is Aurenya,” Mairenn declared proudly, as though she’d unearthed a jewel.
The flood began.
“The Seer herself!” a dark-haired girl with braids gasped. “I’m Sorcha.”
“I’m Eilis,” another said, tall and quick-eyed, grinning as if she already knew me.