Chapter Fourteen
Chapter
Fourteen
Cian
The cold water shakes the cobwebs out of my mind with
a teeth-jarring shock. I take a deep breath and force myself to go under, the
chill prickling along my skin.
I need to think clearly. I can’t give in to the chaos that
swirls through me constantly now.
It’s been almost impossible lately. The thoughts in my head
come and go like butterflies flitting in and out. I can’t catch them and I
can’t keep them. They’re too fast. A thought will come, and I’ll get excited
because I know how to fix some of the problems we’ve been having around the
farm. I’ll start to follow through on it, and then I’m standing somewhere
wondering exactly how I got here.
A little like now.
I can’t talk about it with my brother. Beck has his own
problems. He doesn’t need to worry about his little brother’s failing brain,
but it’s becoming something I can’t hide. Even if I try to conceal my problems,
I’ll forget what I’m trying to do. It’s easier when Beck is around to ground
me. When my brother is in close proximity, I’m able to focus for longer periods
of time.
I break the surface of the water and sure enough the panic
is back. Where am I? Why is it so cold? Terror threatens to take over. I don’t
know where I am. I was in bed. I was in our brugh in bed. Slow down. I
take a deep breath and banish the fear. Fear won’t fix the problem. It will
only make me look like a fool, and then Father will be angry with me.
I can solve this through logic. Like my teachers have
trained me. I seem to be swimming.
Where is my sister? Bron loves to swim, but she isn’t
allowed to go alone. Since Beck is always training, always following our
father, I’m the one who takes our sister swimming. Where is Bron? I’m supposed
to look after her.
No. I’m bathing, and my father is dead. My head aches as
much as my heart as I process the loss like it happened yesterday. Bronwyn is
dead, and so is our mother. They’ve been gone a long time. Uncle Torin killed
them and took our father’s throne. Beck and I are outcasts. Yes, I remember
that part. I’m not a child anymore. I’m a man. I have to act like one.
I look down at the soap in my hand and decide that as long
as I’m here, I should clean up. I feel grungy. I think I’ve been sick. I was in
bed for a long time. It seemed like a smart thing to do. The big bed is a
familiar place. I always know where I am when I’m in bed. Even if I get lost in
memory, the bed is safe.
There’s always a voice whispering to me that the bed is a
nice place to be. It’s better than eating or being up and about. I can drift
away if I only allow myself to.
I manage to soap my hair before my mind shifts again, and I
forget what I’m supposed to be doing. My body has become used to the chill of
the pond. It’s a simple thing to float on my back and gaze up at the sky.
The sky above me is a vibrant blue. Puffy white clouds take
on various shapes and forms. Some of the damn things remind me of equations.
The shapes can be described mathematically. I always wanted to study math.
Father promised me when I turn nineteen, Beck and I can go live with our aunt
for a while on the Vampire plane. Beck is going to learn their fighting
techniques and make political contacts. I’m going to the university. I’m going
to study. It will be marvelous. I can’t wait to meet other students and talk to
professors. I won’t be going to the same school as my cousin, Dante, but we’ll
be close.
I’m going to be surrounded by books.
And I’ll be able to get away from the stuffy old court.
Someone is always watching me, waiting for me to screw up and break the rules.
I’m not good at following protocols or behaving in a matter befitting a prince
of the realm. Father is constantly on me about how much I embarrass my brother
and our fiancée.
But I’ll be free on the Vampire plane. I can meet some girls
who don’t look at me like I’m a fool. They won’t compare me to my big brother
and find me lacking.
What is Father thinking? Maris is a righteous bitch who’s
cold to everyone she meets. How am I ever going to work up the will to fuck
her? I don’t think Beck wants to fuck her, either. They’re always so polite to
each other. There isn’t an ounce of passion between them. Shouldn’t we want to
fuck the woman we’re going to be forced to spend the rest of our lives with?
Oooo, that cloud looks like a squirrel.
“Beckett Finn,” a feminine voice calls out. “What are you
doing? Get out of there. You must be freezing.”
I twist my body and let my feet find the bottom of the pond.
A blonde female is gracefully rushing toward me. She’s tall and lithe, with
straight golden hair that hangs down her back, brushing her hips. Her skirts
float around long legs, showing the faintest hint of a nicely turned ankle. Her
face is lovely. She has a pouty mouth and sky-blue eyes. She looks every inch
the perfect Seelie lady.
I don’t want to fuck her either, but I suddenly remember
that Beck does and has, and probably will again.
“Liadan.” I remember her name. It’s good. Maybe I’m having a
good day. I concentrate and pull the relevant information out of my whacked-out
brain.
Liadan O’Neill is a young widow. She fled Tír na nòg before
the plane closed. Her husband died a few years back in a hunting accident. Beck
has been visiting her bed for roughly a year now. He hoped Liadan and I would
get along. Beck likes to share women with me, but I can’t stand the sight of
her. She’s cold. I have no idea why Beck can’t see how calculating she is.
Her lovely face falls. There’s a wealth of disgusted
disappointment in her voice, and I remember she doesn’t like me, either. We
have a mutual disapproval society going. “Where’s Beckett? I heard from the
trolls that he is back from his hunting trip. They saw him riding in from the
forest.”
She places her hands on her hips, all attempts at ladylike
perfection gone. She won’t waste the effort on me. She mentioned trolls with
great distaste. She’s a sidhe who thinks all other Fae creatures are
beneath her.
“I don’t know.” I’m able to answer with complete
truthfulness. For once, my blank mind is a blessing. Oh, but that’s probably
the reason I’m here. Beck’s been gone and he returned. Big brother likely took
one look at me and ordered me to bathe.
It explains everything. I can still understand logic.
“Well, ain’t that surprising?” Liadan’s perfect features
make for a perfect sneer. “You’re completely good for nothing. I don’t know how
your brother puts up with you.”
“And I don’t see how he can stand to touch you long enough
to get off,” I shoot back as I make my way toward the edge of the pond, feet
dragging in the mud. The soap seems to have floated away.
Why am I here?
“I take care of him just fine.” Liadan stands looking at me
with one hand on her hip. She seems supremely sure of her own attractions. “He
loves me, you know.”
“No, he doesn’t.” There’s no question in my mind about that.
If Beck is in love, then it follows that I would be in love, too. Liadan has
never understood the link between symbiotic twins. She treats us like
completely separate beings when we aren’t. If Beck’s heart is engaged, then I
wouldn’t be able to help myself. I would fall in love, too. I shake my head.
Why had the name Meggie suddenly shot through my brain? I don’t know a Meggie.
There isn’t anyone named that in the village. Or is there?
Liadan tosses the towel my way. “You’re too stupid to
remember. Beck and I are getting married one of these days.”
I stride out of the pond, wrap the towel around my waist,
and start back up toward the cottage. I still remember where I live, at least.
I don’t pick up the clothes I brought with me. They don’t matter. No one cares
what I’m wearing. “No, you’re not. He won’t marry you. You aren’t a bondmate.”
Liadan keeps pace. “He loves me, and there are no more
bondmates to be had. He needs to marry. He needs to have children. You know
it’s true. He is too important to languish out here on this piss-poor excuse
for a plane. He’s let you hold him back far too long.”
My heart aches at the thought of children. I thought we
would have a few by now. I love children, and they always love me. I started a
small school when we settled in this village. It hadn’t taken long before an
entire community of immigrant Fae built up here. They brought their children
with them or adopted the orphans they found along the way. Those children
required an education. I remember looking at their little faces. I loved
teaching them.
Am I supposed to be at school? I should be dressed if I’m
going to school.
“Where am I?”
Liadan exhales heavily. “You really are far gone, aren’t
you? You won’t remember a thing I say five minutes from now, you poor excuse
for a royal. You should lay down, Cian. You should fade. The world would be
better if you faded.”
My vision clouds over. I’ve heard this before. I hear that
voice when I think about getting up from time to time. I’ll be lying in bed and
wonder about something. It can be anything. A recipe. A new way to grow our
crops. Cleaning the kitchen so Beck doesn’t think I’m a slob. I’ll think these
thoughts and curiosity urges me to get out of bed, but then that voice comes
back.
Life will be better for Beck if I fade.
Sometimes I wake up and she’s waiting at my bedside,
whispering the words over and over until I believe them. There’s some sort of
smoke that goes with these episodes. I always feels so much farther away when I
breathe that smoke.
“Get back in your bed, Cian,” Liadan says in a commanding
voice. “It’s time to fade. You’ll be happier, and so will Beckett.” The voice
becomes soothing. I feel her hands on my shoulders. They’re cold. “It will be
nice, won’t it? You can go someplace warm. You can be with your mother and your
sister again. You miss them, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes.” A picture of my sister forms in my mind. She was
my playmate. Beck was too serious for that. He was always with our father in
some important meeting, even when we were young children. Bronwyn was the one
to run through the palace halls, screaming with laughter. She’d been the one to
explore the river with me and make fun of me when I started to notice girls.
Bronwyn died in my arms.
There’s something wet on my face. Tears. I’m sick of tears.
Yes, it would be best to fade. I can’t help Beck. I’m weak. Beck will have a
better chance if I’m gone.
Woodenly, I turn toward the cottage. I hear Lia’s satisfied
sigh as I leave her, but it doesn’t truly register. I begin to walk past the
barn with one thought in my head—I will lie down, and this time I won’t get up
for anything. I will be stalwart. I will fade, and the world will be a better
place. I walk around to the front of the cottage. I will bolt all the doors,
and no one will be able to stop me.
“Beck?”
It’s another feminine voice that pulls me away from my
mission, but this one I don’t recognize. I look down and see a petite, curvy
woman with a mass of wavy brown hair. No. It isn’t simply brown. There’s red
and blonde in it, too. It’s a glorious auburn. The lighter strands catch the
late-afternoon light and sparkle. Her hair is beautiful and a bit wild. A
proper Fae lady would never wear her hair so wild. Her clothes are traveling
clothes, and they aren’t perfectly proper either. She’s left the top of the
neck unbuttoned. I’m fascinated by her creamy skin and the soft rise of her
breasts.
She’s beautiful.
“No, sweetheart.” A very familiar voice corrects her. Dante.
My cousin showed up last night, riding that flying vehicle of his. I used to
love to ride on the back of it. Dante threw a fit when I tried to take it
apart, though. “That’s not Beck.”
“Leave me alone,” I say, trying to take my eyes off the
lovely woman in front of me. There’s nothing cold about this one. Her hazel
eyes look up with great concern. Those eyes pull at me. Still, I hear myself
talking to my cousin. “Go away, Dante. I have to go to bed. I’m tired.”
Dante’s sigh tells of his weariness of the subject. “Not
again.”
The woman reaches out and puts her hand to my chest. Her
skin is warm after the chill of the pond. “No, Cian. You need to get dry, and I
need to brush out your hair. It’s a mess. It hasn’t been brushed in weeks, it
looks like.”
Her small hands suddenly fuss in my hair. She plays gently
with it, and I like it. Her hands feel like the flutter of pixie wings against
my skin. How long has it been since I was touched by soft hands?
“What is your name?” I look down on her in wonder. She’s so
beautiful. She’s a lovely siren, calling me away from duty. I have something to
do, but I would rather stay here with her.
She smiles and all the light and warmth in the world is in
her face. “I’m Meggie.”
A rush of emotion hits me at the sound of her name. Meggie.
I pull her into my arms and hug her with all the strength I have left. After a
moment, she winds her arms around my chest and holds me close. I don’t know why
I feel this way, but I know she saved me from something. A word to describe her
leaps to my addled brain. It’s the only clear thing in my head.
“Wife,” I whisper in her ear.
It’s a prayer.