Chapter LX #2
“I know. And I know if you had, you would have played it down. Made it less obvious to her. Found a way to make her feel better. I am not telling you this to hang it around your neck, Diago. You are empathetic in many things and when you are, you are one of the most kind-hearted people I know.” He exhales.
“But sometimes, talent and empathy fight for the same air. You always found things so easy that your expectations of others got skewed. You never really understood what they can and cannot do.” He lays a hand on my shoulder.
“This is all to say, Son—it has to be you. You. Not just because you find yourself in this situation, not just because you are lucky. But because you are one of the very few who could. You have always been a marvel. And that gift, that talent, isn’t costless. ”
I don’t respond for a long time. Turning over the words. I don’t want to fight with my father. Never did. He was always so sure. Always right.
“But you don’t know.” I say it quietly. Not quite willing to meet his eye.
“You don’t know Fiachra will win. You cannot be certain I am delivering myself into Ruarc’s hands.
It is a risk, but so was training at Loch Traenala every day.
So was the voyage here. So was walking through the forest at night.
I could die this evening from tripping on a stone.
You don’t know.” I do meet his gaze, now.
“I don’t either but it is my decision, Father.
No matter whether you think it is the right one. ”
He gazes at me for a long time, the fire between us. Not angry, to my relief.
“You asked me why I didn’t speak to you before tonight.
” He chews his lip. “I found you a month after you got here. You were with that family. Working on the farm. I nearly came to you then, but … I have spent the last year hoping that in this world, you would have a second chance. A chance at a life that I would want for you. The one you deserve. One where you are happy, and free.” He pauses.
Thinks. “Freedom is as much about leaving things behind as it is about not being chained. I am a part of you, Diago. I always will be and I am indescribably proud of that fact. But I am a ghost, and what I bring with me, this thing that we have been tangled up in, is pain. All this time, even knowing what I know, I have been hoping that was something I could spare you.” He rubs his chin.
“And the time I have been able to spare you, I do not regret. The fact is, if I had told you earlier, it would have been to my benefit and not yours. It would have been selfish.”
“But I am so glad to know you are alive. If you had just told me—”
“And asked you to live a life of deceit again? Holding secrets you cannot tell your closest friends?” He smiles.
“I have watched you, Diago, and you have grown, this past year. You have come to trust and love in a way that I was not sure you would be able to again. You have found a joy and peace here that I thought would be forever lost to you. And though that time may be at an end, it has helped shape you into the man I always hoped you would be. Not just in your achievements—I was always proud of those. But in your happiness. In your outlook on life. You have taken these scars, these horrible scars, and you have learned not to let them define you.” A crack in his voice.
“You were never alone here, Diago. And it was not because I watched over you.”
He embraces me and I return it. “So you … you won’t stop me?”
He laughs. Holds me close. “I could not even if I wanted to. Which is how it should be. I may not agree with you, but this is still the man I always wanted you to be, above all others,” he whispers. “Your own.”
And like that, some of the unease lifts. Not because I am getting my own way. Not because my father thinks it is the right choice. But because he is willing to let it be mine.
We talk more after that. The tension not entirely gone, but not between us, either.
We laugh and it is genuine and warm. He explains that the pulse I sense from him is the Will imbued in him; Ostius told him little else except the distance he needed to stay away to avoid me noticing it.
Explains how he came closer in order to alert me to the raiders, that night.
Shows me how he was able to track me, all these months—a roughly ten-inch, grey stone stylus that Ostius gave him, which pulls gently toward me as he dangles it from a chain.
When I recognise it as the one Relucia gave me at the naumachia, and explain softly its connection to me, he immediately and sorrowfully tucks it away again.
I ask about the test tomorrow, Fornax. He knows nothing of it.
Eventually I catch the fact the moon is sinking rather than rising. My father sees it too.
“You could join me.” I say it into the reluctance we both clearly feel at the idea of parting. “Lir doesn’t have to know—”
“I can’t.” He looks uncomfortable, then sighs.
“The druids here. They will sense exactly what you sense, if I get too close. And they will know why,” he says firmly, as if determined not to sidestep the fact.
“Ostius warned me—they have ways of dealing with the dead. Quickly and efficiently. I have to keep my distance.”
“Oh.”
He hears my disappointment. “That does not mean you have to keep yours. I’ll stay nearby.
Close enough for you to know where I am, now.
Whenever you are able to get away, Diago, I will be here.
” He matches my sudden smile fondly. “But now, you should get back, before your druid notices you’re missing.
Get some sleep. And whatever this task of yours is, tomorrow—be careful. ”
We embrace again. It still feels impossible, his arms around me.
“I love you.” I haven’t said it yet, and the words almost stick in my throat. I’ve needed to tell him that for so, so long.
“And I love you, Diago. Always.” He squeezes me tight, then releases me.
It’s hard, walking away. Parting so soon, after so long. And yet I can, because I know I can come back. I know my father will keep his word and that when I need him, he will find a way to be there.
He always has. He always does.
Lir’s snores still boom off the hills long before I reach the halo of our campfire’s embers, assuring me that my absence hasn’t been noted. I settle in to sleep. My father’s pulse, faint though it is, sits reassuringly in the back of my head.
And as I close my eyes, I find myself smiling.