Chapter Twenty #3
“I meant what I told you earlier. That loss consumed me. There was a part of me that could not fathom being bested by a mortal in anything. It was my duty, after all, to prove the superiority of Tír nAill. I intended to carry it out. I’d lost before, of course, but never to someone my age—and never in such an embarrassing fashion.
I suppose I was afraid of losing, too, when I believed I could get my brother to pay attention to me if I played well enough. ”
Ciara had told her all of this before, but she looked at Shea imploringly, as though beseeching her to let her finish. Shea could find no reason to object, and so, she held her silence.
“When I was clearheaded enough, I asked about her and got my hands on many of her games. I’d never seen anything quite like them.
They were brutal—brilliant. Here was someone who came from nothing and fought her way to the top.
Someone who changed her circumstances through sheer force of will.
Someone who seemingly wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.
I admired that. Yes, it consumed me. First with humiliation, then with a kind of …
obsession. It felt to me like one of the doomed, romantic stories I longed to experience myself.
A faerie royal, taken with the talent of a mortal maiden. ”
Ciara laughed self-deprecatingly. “When I finally got the opportunity to know her, she surprised me. Her success was not owed to any kind of ruthless ambition. It was because she was fighting for someone she loved. Her bravery was not because she wasn’t afraid of anything, but because fear seemed an inconsequential thing entirely.
When it came to the people she loved, there was nothing she would not do.
Beneath all that bluster and impulsivity, she had a remarkably kind heart.
She made me want to believe I could be someone worthy of that kind of devotion. ”
Shea could only stare at her. It was … mortifying, to hear this flattering account of herself. Even more mortifying to imagine herself a character in a faerie story. That was Aideen’s domain, not hers. And yet, heat crawled up her face. Her heart felt full to bursting.
“More than anything, I realized how lonely she was,” Ciara said quietly.
“As lonely as I was. Once, I believed that chess would be the path to earning if not affection, then attention. But the more I played, the more I understood that talent isolates you. At these heights, it is so cold. Sometimes I wonder if that must be so.”
Shea thought of how Ciara had reacted when she threatened to quit. Well, then, what am I supposed to do? Shea’s voice wobbled when she asked, “What the hell are you saying?”
“If it is not abundantly clear by now, I am wretchedly fond of you. Worse, I fear there is no one in this realm or any other, mortal or fae, that is capable of understanding or challenging me as you do.”
“But the tournament…”
“Shea.” Ciara’s voice rooted her in place. “The tournament is the very last thing on my mind.”
Her hand rested atop Shea’s, where it clung desperately to the swing’s rope.
Her gold-lidded eyes were molten and as black as deep water.
The desire shining out of them was all-consuming, almost desperate.
It made heat pool deep within Shea. It made her ache until she could think of little else but eliminating every inch of space between them.
Ciara leaned closer, until Shea she could feel Ciara’s breath against her lips with every word she spoke: “You feel it, too. I know you do. Tell me I am delusional, or give me what I want.”
Huskily, Shea replied, “You’re delusional.”
Ciara smiled, dark and inviting. Very delicately, she skimmed her fingers against Shea’s cheek until they cradled her jaw.
Shea could feel the gentle rasp of her calluses where her weapon fit in her hand.
The softness and strength of Ciara’s touch sent shivers through her.
Ciara angled her chin up with reverence.
And then, Ciara kissed her.
It felt like taking a bite of faerie fruit, like following a song through the ghostly mist, like running full tilt through the windswept heath. Wild and sweet and dangerous. How had she ever lived without this? This was far better than arguing with her.
Ciara kissed her with a languid hunger that set Shea ablaze.
Her lips tasted like honey, and her teeth grazed Shea’s lower lip, drawing a sound from low in Shea’s throat.
She needed her closer. She needed to erase any space between them.
She lifted Ciara by the waist and guided her into her lap.
Her weight settled over her, deliciously heavy.
Shea let her hands wander along Ciara’s ribs, her hips, the tops of her thighs.
She savored every hitch of her breath, every soft sigh.
If this was an enchantment, she never wanted to resurface.
When they at last pulled apart, Ciara leaned her forehead against Shea’s. The curtain of her hair fell around them, filtering the dying sunlight. Shea’s world burned a glorious, hazy red. She twisted one of Ciara’s curls through her fingers.
“You’re so beautiful,” Shea whispered.
Ciara smiled almost shyly. “I know.”
Clearly, Shea was delusional, too. There was no world in which this would work. But right now, with nothing but the sound of gulls and water lapping the shore, with Ciara’s weight settled so comfortably against her, Shea could not bring herself to care.