Immortal Game
It had been two years since Midir’s first appearance, and today was Aideen’s eighteenth birthday. In the early afternoon, Aideen called Shea up into her room.
Shea hadn’t been here in a while and was surprised at the transformation.
Aideen had painted over the floral mural she’d done and removed the mirrors from the walls.
The vision boards—collages of photos and magazine clippings—had been stripped from the corkboard above her desk.
At least the fairy lights remained, a glowing tangle of wires above her headboard.
Aideen sat nestled among the monogrammed pillows on her bed, dressed all in black like a mourner.
Over the years, she’d never lost her penchant for theater.
“Come here,” she said. “Let me braid your hair.”
Shea made a face, but she didn’t complain. It wasn’t often that Aideen actually wanted company. They sprawled on her bed, talking about nothing, as Aideen braided their hair together. When she finished, she tied the ends together.
“There,” Aideen said. “What do you think?”
The one mirror that Aideen had left alone was the full-length one mounted on her bedroom door. Shea peered at their reflection. They sat shoulder to shoulder, bound together by a neat, elegant plait. Aideen’s golden hair twined into Shea’s pale blond.
“I don’t know. It’s a little impractical.”
Aideen shoved her shoulder playfully, which only sent them toppling over together. Both of them laughed.
“Do you want to do anything today?” Shea dared to ask.
Aideen’s expression grew somber. “No.”
“Nothing?” Shea pressed. It wasn’t unusual. Aideen didn’t like going out anymore, but in years past, there had been some acknowledgment of the occasion. Making a new recipe she’d dug up in a book. A night swim. A movie.
“There’s nothing to celebrate.”
“It is your birthday.”
Aideen groaned. “More like a death day. Eighteen is the end of the road for me.”
“Okay,” Shea said skeptically. “I feel like it’s just the start for most people.”
“Yeah, for most people. For normal people. But I’m not normal.”
Shea supposed she wasn’t. Still, she didn’t like the self-loathing she’d thrown behind that word. “You’re normal to me.”
Aideen clenched her fists in her lap. “Yeah, well, normal people don’t look like me. They can’t do what I can do. And it’s not even that. You’re my only friend, and you’re…”
Shea arched a brow. “Not normal, either?”
My sister, the chess whiz. Aideen had always said it with affection, but maybe there was some ridicule there, too.
Shea knew very well she wasn’t what most people called normal, either.
Normal kids didn’t spend hours reading dense tomes on pawn structure.
They didn’t travel internationally to play board games at a professional level.
They didn’t make their older sisters quiz them on the move order of a game Korchnoi and Karpov played in 1978.
Shea had never been bothered by others’ judgment or her own difference.
It stung a little when her own sister said it.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t.”
“It’s fine,” Shea mumbled.
“I’m just…” Aideen sighed fretfully. “I’m just so afraid I’m making the wrong decisions—or like I’m not making a decision at all. Sometimes it feels like I don’t belong to myself. Like I’m in a story someone else has written.”
The wrong decision. Shea frowned. “What do you mean?”
Just then, the door swung open. They both jolted, and the braid linking them together tugged painfully against Shea’s scalp.
Their mother stood in the doorway. “Hey, gals. Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” Shea said flatly.
“Good.” With that, Kara marched toward Aideen’s closet and flung open the doors. “I have a date tonight. Will you help me pick something out?”
Aideen hastily began unfastening the braid. “Mom, stop rummaging.”
“Relax. It’s not like you wear any of this stuff.
Honestly, you look so drab these days, Aideen.
” There was an edge of vindication in her voice as she riffled through the hangers, each of which held one of Aideen’s old dresses.
She brought one out—a sundress patterned in soft blues—and held it up to herself.
“This might fit me better than you, actually.”
Shea’s entire body coiled tight. Another fight was brewing. She could feel it like a shift in the atmosphere before a storm.
“Mom,” Aideen said. “Seriously. Stop.”
Kara smiled, and her eyes glinted like knifepoints. “Oh, I get it. You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”
“No.” At last, Aideen tugged herself free from the braid. “I just don’t want you going through my things.”
“I can go through your things if I want. This is my house.”
Kara flung open one of the dresser drawers. The malevolent glee drained from her, replaced by genuine shock. Shea half expected her to pull out some contraband, like vodka or a box of condoms. Instead, Kara lifted out a chain of delicate gold.
Shea was surprised, too. The last time she checked, there wasn’t any money missing from her account.
And as far as she knew, Aideen didn’t have a job.
Even if she did, no part-time gig could earn her something as nice as that.
She glanced at Aideen from the corner of her eye. Her sister had gone deathly pale.
“What,” Kara asked quietly, “is this?”
“Nothing,” Aideen blurted out. “Put it back.”
Kara laughed incredulously. She opened another drawer as Aideen made a strangled noise of protest. In seething silence, Kara unearthed a veritable dragon’s hoard of jewelry.
A silver comb inlaid with gems. A necklace of beaten gold.
Brooches and hairpins, rings and bracelets.
It had to be Aideen’s weight in gold and in silver.
Kara deposited it all onto the bed. “And where did you get all this?”
Aideen glared at her. “Nowhere.”
“Who gave it to you?”
Aideen’s voice trembled now. “No one.”
Unlike the fae, Aideen could lie. But she’d always been terrible at it. Shea stiffened to hear it in her voice now.
“You will not end up like me,” Kara said lowly. “I had no choice in the matter. But if you’re making stupid decisions—”
“Oh, believe me, I will not end up like you.”
Kara’s face twisted as the insult hit its mark. She planted a hand on her hip. “So you stole it.”
“No!” Aideen choked out. “No. I don’t know. I don’t know where it came from.”
“Well.” Kara fished a ring out of the pile of gold. “Then you won’t miss it.”
“You can’t let me have one thing for myself, can you? Just take it, then. Take it all. I don’t care anymore. Just go, okay?”
Kara slipped the ring over her finger. Coolly, she replied, “You’ll be sorry for treating me like this when I’m dead.”
“And you’ll be sorry when I’m gone!”
Kara snatched the sundress, then stormed out. The entire room shook when she slammed the door behind her. Shea let out a shaky breath, relieved, but Aideen’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. She buried her face in her hands.
Very softly, Shea said, “You got all this from him. Didn’t you?”
She didn’t need to specify who she meant. Midir.
Aideen lifted her eyes to Shea, and Aideen’s expression nearly gutted her. It was one of a girl completely beyond her depth. “Yes.”
Shea swallowed down her dread. “He’s been back here.”
Aideen only nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have—”
“I don’t know, Shea.” Aideen’s shoulders hunched. “There’s nothing to tell. Nothing you’d have been interested in. He brings gifts. He writes poetry. He sings to me. He’ll ask me to leave with him soon enough. I know it. And when he does…”
When, not if. It was sensible to assume, of course. The fae were not known for giving up what they believed was theirs. He’d promised that he would return to woo her again, after all. Obviously, he’d been busy.
Shea was quiet for a time. All their lives, Aideen had protected Shea.
It was almost time she returned the favor.
Shea was thirteen now. Old enough to be an adult, practically.
Old enough to have put some thought into things.
She had money now—enough that they’d be able to run away together and start a new life.
Better yet, she had knowledge of the High King of the Irish Otherworld and the kinds of games he liked to play.
She’d been preparing for this for a long time.
Shea laid her hand on Aideen’s forearm. “It’ll be okay, Aideen. I promise.”