8. Cold feet
Cold feet
The castle was alive with activity when Sorcha arrived, instantly caught in the hurried pace of the attendants.
They bustled past, carrying silks and golden threads, their voices a blend of last-minute preparations.
The air was rich with the scents of incense and honeyed wine, mixed with the faint, welcoming sounds of stringed instruments tuning up for the evening’s celebrations.
The Cait Sidhe had certainly been efficient.
Sorcha pressed onward, making her way through the crowd.
Her steps resounded in the castle’s hallways as she hurried toward the great hall, where Maelan had already been brought.
The doors, slightly open, flooded sunlight into the hall.
Maelan was reclining against the large chair at the room’s head, not quite sitting in it.
One leg was casually draped over an armrest, the other bent, his boot touching the floor.
A wine goblet hung from his fingers. Callan stood nearby, murmuring.
Several elders and high-ranking warriors were gathered, engrossed in a discussion about seating arrangements, ceremonial rituals, and other formalities Maelan appeared to have little interest in.
However, despite the surrounding commotion, his entire focus shifted to her the moment she entered.
His gaze slowly, intentionally, moved over her.
“Thank the gods you’ve arrived,” he said lazily. “I simply can’t make all these decisions by myself.”
“The entire kingdom is in an uproar,” Callan interjected. “And not entirely thanks to the two of you.”
Maelan paid him no mind. “I’ve already dealt with the council, the ceremony is set, and the feast will be ready by dusk. Honestly, it wasn’t such a monumental task.”
Three elders immediately began talking over one another.
“Clearly,” Callan grumbled.
“All that remains is Sorcha’s gown,” Maelan added.
“You’ll have to wait longer. I haven’t decided on one yet,” Sorcha responded.
“Will I?” he wondered, tilting his head. “Firelight, I would wait an eternity for you.”
The goblet turned slowly between his fingers as he watched her. The room teemed with elders, warriors, and attendants rushing in every direction, yet she felt as though they were the only two people in it. Heat crept into her cheeks, a blush that made her wonder when this had started happening.
Callan then loudly cleared his throat, shattering the moment instantly. “Gods above,” he muttered, “they’re already unbearable.”
Callan ushered Sorcha out the door to find Korat, the seamstress for the royal family, somewhere in the castle.
Maelan dismissed the others and the doors clicked shut behind them, leaving Maelan alone in the throne room.
He exhaled, wineglass in hand, and began pacing before the throne.
He was sweating now, a stark contrast to Sorcha’s departure to prepare for the wedding.
All he could do was stand there, pacing like a fool.
A low chuckle broke the silence. The throne room doors had clicked shut minutes ago, but Maelan had been too lost in his thoughts to notice Callan return, leaning lazily against the doorway, arms crossed.
Callan’s head tilted with that infuriating smile, the smirk of a friend who knew too much already.
“What’s got you so worked up, Maelan?” Callan teased, stepping forward. “Is it Little Miss Sunshine?”
Maelan turned and drained the rest of his wine in one go, barely tasting it.
The glass met the throne’s cushion with a soft thunk, hardly regal, but who cared?
“What am I doing, Callan?” The words escaped him before he could stop them.
He ran a hand through his hair. “My mother must be flipping tables in Mag Mell, cursing my name.”
Callan barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Your mother? Please. I think it’s your father who’d be doing the table flipping. Your mother’s probably just... confused.” He raised a brow. “Which, to be fair, so am I. Maelan, why?”
Maelan stilled, his hands flexing at his sides. For the first time, he let the question sink in. “My kingdom must be confused too,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know if I can do this, Callan.”
That got Callan moving. He took the stairs slowly, step by step, watching Maelan carefully, as if he was dissecting him.
“Why her?” Callan pressed. “Why an outsider? If you can make me understand, I can make everyone else understand.”
Maelan was waving his hands as he spoke, as if that might help untangle the mess in his head.
“I was minding my damn business, Callan. I was in the forest when she literally stumbled into me.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “She’s more God than she knows, but her aura shines like pure sunlight. You’ve seen it too, haven’t you?”
He gestured to the room, as if it could somehow contain the magnitude of her presence.
“Mortals can’t see it, but we can.”
Callan remained silent, watching.
“She’s extraordinary.”
The words just fell out of his mouth, but they were the truth.
“I had to know why a God was walking around the mortal realm, dressing like one, acting like one.” And then she kept surprising me. She’s connected to all this destruction. The darkness that here—calls to her, but I don’t know why yet. What I know is that she’s important.”
Maelan turned away, gripping the edge of the throne. His fingers curled too tightly.
“And I can’t let her go.”
A long silence hung between them. Then, Callan sighed and rested a firm hand on Maelan’s shoulder. “I think it’s more than that.”
Maelan swallowed, not answering because Callan was right. There was more.
“Am I doing the right thing here, Callan?” His voice dropped, as if speaking the words too loudly might make them real.
“I think she’ll make a great queen. I’d never ask if I didn’t believe she’d lay her life down for our people.
But for gods’ sake,” he dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head, “she thought I was a pet.”
Callan froze. Then he burst out laughing. “You let yourself be treated as a pet?! Maelan, are you serious?!”
“That never leaves this room,” Maelan snapped, leveling him with a deadly glare. “I swear, Callan, if you breathe a word of this, I will tie you up and leave you to be eaten by the riddle tree.”
But Callan was already gone, bent over, clutching his stomach, laughter rolling out of him in wheezes. “You! Oh gods, you slept at her feet?! Did you eat from a bowl?! How about a belly rub?”
Then Callan’s eyes lit up, and he could barely keep himself together. “Maelan, did you… please tell me you didn’t use a box!”
Maelan turned bright red, mortified. “No, I didn’t, Callan! I have some dignity!”
Callan couldn’t stop laughing. He tried, he really did, but every time he looked at Maelan’s face, it sent him wheezing all over again. Maelan had enough. He punched Callan’s arm.
“Ow! What the fuck, Maelan?!” Callan yelped, still laughing as he rubbed his arm.
So he punched Maelan back. That was all it took. Suddenly, they were chasing each other around the throne, taking wild swings. Maelan vaulted over a small table. Callan tripped over it, sending it crashing to the floor in a spectacular mess.
“Too bad you’re too Slo—”Maelan started right before Callan punched him straight in the stomach.
As Callan’s laughter reverberated through the throne room, Maelan doubled over.
Just then the doors to the throne opened and Kyron walked into the room.
Callan straightened, his face cold as he spoke “What do you think your doing in here?”
Callan began to approach Kyron when Maelan grabbed him by the shoulder. “It’s okay, Can you give us a moment?”
Callan started to object, but Maelan’s glare indicated the matter wasn’t open for discussion. With a slow nod, he made his exit.
Maelan sat on the step before the throne and suspiciously eyed Kyron as the doors shut. “Why have you come here?
“Sorcha,” Kyron said as he walked the stairs.
Maelan let out a loud sigh and said, “I won’t stop fighting for her.”
"I won’t either. Where does that leave us, Maelan?” Kyron stood just a few steps away.
“Do you love her?” Maelan asked him with sincerity.
“With my whole being.” Kyron replied without hesitation.
Kyron sat by Maelan’s side as Maelan rubbed his jaw in thought. “The decision is hers. If it means I can also love her, I’m okay with her loving you.”
Before replying, Kyron remained seated with his elbows on his knees, lost in thought. “If she loves me, and you love her, and I love her, then I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. I'm not okay with this marriage but I'll deal with it.“
Maelan nodded, "I'm not forcing her to do anything. If she wanted to end it now, I would walk away from the kingdom tonight."
Kyron let a sharp, frustrated exhale. It was maddening. Kyron wanted a rival he could despise, someone arrogant or cruel. Instead he was stuck with this. "Must you be so disgustingly kind hearted?" he muttered. "How am I supposed to properly hate you when you're so gods damned noble?"
Maelan laughed a full belly laugh and nudged Kyron with his elbow, “I could say the same about you."