Chapter 19 #3
I stilled for a fleeting moment, and my jaw slackened, pulled down from the weight of his words.
I had always been blamed for volatile male behavior directed at me, either by my family or my peers.
I was told I was too bold, too outspoken, too much of a rule breaker.
I had never met any expectations of what men wanted or needed from me, and that made me a target for their unfettered rage—an entitlement they cultivated from birth.
I had unwillingly yielded my power to men all my life.
I was tired of sparing them the guilt of their loud violence when I was expected to absorb it silently.
My tears slowed, leaving salt paths in their wake.
The trembling from a flood of adrenaline morphed into shaking from palpable anger.
“I don’t want to be weak anymore. I have no enchants to protect myself or Cora and no strength or even a voice on either side of that fate-be-damned barrier!
I am so sick and tired of men taking advantage of the limitations placed on me as a woman, but I can’t do a fucking thing about it!
” I yelled without meaning to. The force of it had been building inside me for decades.
Darragh blinked and huffed out a small laugh. His full lips formed a soft smile. “Now, that I can help you with.” He sat upright, retreating from my space and dropping his hands, the absence of his touch noticeable.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
“You will never have enchants, that’s true. But let me teach you how to fight. At least how to throw a good punch and toss an asshole off you.”
“You would do that?” My small voice still shook from the rage and fear moving through me in waves.
“I would consider it an honor. You are not weak, Rory. You just need someone to bolster your natural abilities and teach you how to use your body as a weapon.”
I nodded seriously. “I would like that.”
I had never had a man, human or seraph, tell me that I was capable. I had to find that out on my own. Now, the most feared seraph in Tironaill had faith in my abilities, validating me for the first time.
He stood slowly, stepping to my side. “First, I have to get you cleaned up and into a new dress. We can’t go back to the castle covered in blood.”
I looked down at myself, wrapped in a dress saturated in blood, dirt, and moisture from the damp forest floor.
Darragh ripped the bottom of his cloak into a strip of fabric and moved to the stream.
He washed the blood and tissue off his face and hands, the water carrying away the evidence of his brutality.
An absolution of the carnage he laid to waste.
The silver dagger I discarded lay at the stream bank, and he sheathed it at his hip.
He dipped the cloth into the water and knelt back to my side.
Wordlessly, he wiped the blood splatter from my face, tucking my loose hair behind my rounded ears.
I tracked the planes of his face as he diligently cleaned me.
Merciless killer and gentle protector. The duality of him gave me pause.
If only others would give him a chance to show that he wasn’t what they claimed him to be.
He had so much more depth to him that no one gave him credit for.
He flicked his eyes to mine. “Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
He looped an arm around my waist and helped pull me upward. My legs still trembled with the adrenaline surge from the attack, but Darragh didn’t let go, leading me past the bodies and through the trees toward the alcove.
“The other daemonite ran toward the village,” I said at the realization.
Darragh scowled. “Yes. My focus was on the deadliest opponents, and since he was barely out of swaddling clothes and about to shit himself when I appeared, I didn’t pursue him.”
Our own barrier had broken, crumpled right alongside the bodies strewn across the forest floor. No more formality. No stuffy propriety. We couldn’t go back to that.
As we stepped into the alcove, Astorath was whinnying and pacing back and forth. My heart sank. Celeste was gone.
Could this day get any worse?
“I think that young man took Celeste. I would cry, but I don’t think I have anything left to pour out of me,” I said.
“Shh, shh. It’s alright, boy,” Darragh comforted Astorath and turned to me. “I’m sorry, Rory. I can’t imagine how hard this day has been for you. I’ll try to recover her if I can.”
I nodded and twisted my fingers. “How should we get back? We can’t ride through the village looking like this.” I gestured to our bloodied clothes.
“You can ride Astorath, and I will walk beside you both. We will take the outside perimeter of the village, sticking to the forest edge. I know where we can stop to clean up and get changed. It may take until evening to get back to the castle, but we will make it.”
“Don’t be silly. He’s a big enough horse. We can ride him together.”
Darragh’s mouth opened and then closed. He shook his head at me. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable after what you just went through.”
“Darragh, it’s fine. I wouldn’t mention it if I didn’t think I could handle it. This way, we can get back to the castle without raising suspicions about where we were. Unless…are you uncomfortable?”
Darragh blinked. “What? Not at all. I just don’t want you to feel I am imposing myself on you.”
“I don’t,” I assured him.
He looked to Astorath and then to me. I wondered if he was going to fight me on this, but the need to move quickly won out. “Alright then.”