Chapter Thirty-Two
Shea stumbled into the open courtyard just as a section of the wall collapsed behind her.
An entire wing of the castle lay in ruins.
Crumbled stone battlements slumped together like people returning from war, bones broken and faces streaked with gore.
The green scent of sap hung heavy in the air.
The few surviving windows were cracked like thin ice over a pond.
She’d lost Midir in the chaos. She hadn’t seen Ciara or Daniil since before their game began. Panic jolted her. Where were they? If they hadn’t survived … No, they’d survived. They had to.
In a daze, she shoved through the crowds in search of any familiar face.
Some of the fae were running through the grounds, flurries of cream fabric and wild eyes—either trying to escape or searching for their loved ones.
Others had drawn weapons and stood facing down the central gate as if bracing for an attack.
Some wandered past her like sleepwalkers.
Others wept openly. It seemed Shea was entirely invisible to them, everyone locked in a world all their own.
She made it to the gardens before someone shouted her name. Not Daniil or Ciara but—
“Aideen,” she rasped.
Aideen hurried toward her, her golden hair loose and fluttering behind her. Her white dress was torn and streaked with dust. She threw her arms around Shea and crushed her into a hug. “You’re alive.”
Shea all but collapsed against her, clinging to her as though Aideen was the only thing keeping her upright. “Daniil and Ciara—”
“They’re fine,” Aideen supplied, to Shea’s enormous relief. “Everyone is fine. We split up to look for you. Did you…?”
“Yeah. I won.”
Aideen let out a sound that was half sob and half laughter.
It filled Shea with a pure, childlike pride.
Aideen had never understood a single move she’d ever made, idiotic or brilliant.
It was almost sweet, after all these years, that Aideen still held that same blind faith in her. “Of course you did.”
Aideen let her go and withdrew a step. They stood in uncertain silence. The weight of six years’ absence and yesterday’s argument pressed down heavily on them. It pained Shea. She didn’t know how to fix this. Maybe she couldn’t.
Aideen blurted out, “I’m sorry.”
Shea startled. “For what?”
“I shouldn’t have told you to leave without even trying to speak to you.
You were always so stubborn. I didn’t realize how much worse you’d gotten over the years.
” She smiled ruefully. “It’s true I didn’t want to encourage you.
But I also didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t bear facing you again.
I am a monster. I ruined your life enough already, and—”
“Aideen,” Shea cut in, horrified. “You didn’t ruin my life.”
“But I did.” Her voice broke. “If I’d never been born, Mom would have had a normal life. Maybe she would’ve been a normal parent, and you would’ve had a normal childhood, instead of—”
“If you’d never been born, I probably wouldn’t have been, either.
” Shea’s voice was firm. “And if by some miracle, I’d been the same person, born into better circumstances, nothing about my life would’ve been normal.
I’m a professional chess player. I’m not really normal, either. As you’ve told me.”
“Oh, God.” Aideen paled. “You still remember that.”
“We got dealt a bad hand. You were the only thing that made it bearable. I wouldn’t change that for anything. Besides, I’ve been convinced all this time that I was the one who ruined your life.”
A breeze rustled the branches overhead, sending scattered light across Aideen’s stricken face. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I lost that game to Midir. I thought I failed you.” Shea swiped at the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“All this time, I’ve been trying to make up for it.
I see now that I assumed too much. But I was watching you fade away in front of me.
I saw how afraid you were. I thought it was because of him. ”
She drew in a shuddering breath. She thought of Aideen, sixteen years old and confronted with the enormity of his offer.
“I thought I could fix it for you. I thought if I could make him go away, then you’d be happy.
You wouldn’t have to dread him coming back.
You wouldn’t have to make that decision.
You’ve always looked out for me. The night Midir came for you, I thought that’s what you were doing.
Being brave for my sake. It sounds stupid, I know, but I just wanted to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me. ”
“Shea.” Aideen took Shea by the shoulders. “There is nothing to repay.”
A weight Shea hadn’t realized was there lifted from her. A sense of lightness unfurled through her like the delicate wings of a butterfly.
“You can’t blame yourself,” Aideen went on. “If I’d just told you back then what I planned to do, if I’d told you when you showed up here how I felt, none of this would have happened. I was too ashamed. It felt like I was abandoning you. But I couldn’t bear it anymore. I…”
Her voice broke. Shea didn’t need her to finish to understand: Aideen could never go back to Wayfolk.
“I know.” It felt like a door closing—or maybe opening. For six years, this had been her sole purpose. Shea hardly knew who she was without that drive, or what to do with all this pain that now had nowhere to go. “Just … Tell me you’re happy here. With him.”
Aideen did not answer immediately. There was a stillness to her that she’d never had in the mortal world—a stillness so complete, she might as well have been one of the willow trees surrounding them, growing into and out of the soil of the Otherworld.
“I think I could be happy here if I had the chance. I hardly know what it’s like.
The gates of this castle have been closed for so long.
It’s just as lonely here as it was back home. Midir is very set in his ways.”
“So he is trapping you here,” she said guardedly. “He’s treated you badly.”
“Yes and no,” Aideen replied quietly. “I do love him, but some things are hard to forgive.”
Shea held her silence.
“Things could be different. Tír nAill could be different. I know it could. Less divided, less controlled. I am powerless here, but if I wasn’t, I could…” Aideen trailed off, as though catching herself speaking something forbidden aloud.
“I don’t know what I could do. All I know is that I want to know my subjects.
I want to see the place where I grew up in another life.
I want to swim in the sea and run on the sand.
I want to dance and meet new people. I never gave up on all those childish things.
” Aideen tipped her face back to the faint sunlight.
It played on the planes of her lovely face and made her golden hair shine.
“I want to know who I am, outside of being compared to someone else, some ideal, some role someone else has written for me. I want to live.”
I want to know who I am. I want to live.
Let me give us both that chance, Shea thought.
Just then, Shea caught a glimpse of Midir over Aideen’s shoulder.
He stood on the opposite side of a pond, framed by the flowering branches of a cherry tree.
Aideen—sensing either his gaze or Shea’s drifting attention—turned to look at him.
Shea saw as much as she heard Aideen’s sharp intake of breath.
Her sister was frozen, like a hare at the end of a huntsman’s bow.
An entire conversation seemed to pass between Midir and Aideen as they stared across the water at one another.
Grief transformed his face into something soft and vulnerable.
It was as though his hundreds of years had caught up to him all at once.
A short bridge, painted white and scattered with loose petals, arced over the pond. The three of them met at its center. With great reluctance, Midir offered his hand to Shea. “Congratulations are in order.”
Surprised, Shea accepted his hand. “Thank you.”
“And now,” he continued, his voice tight, “you are owed a boon.”
He seemed to be stalling. Shea tilted her head. “So I am.”
“I will hear your request presently. Only…” With no other formality to draw upon, his composure splintered. “Only allow me to ask one thing of you. I beg of you, do not take her from me.”
And then, the High King of the Irish Otherworld—Midir of Bri Leith and the Silver Eye and Golden Hair and the Thousand Talents and God knew what else—dropped to his knees before her.
Shea stared down at him with complete and utter mortification.
What if someone saw him like this? Did he have no pride left to lose?
“Get up,” she said hastily.
Slowly, Midir lifted his head and blinked as though rousing from a dream. He did what she asked, then readjusted his mantle with an air of self-consciousness. Clearly, both of them were beyond ready to move on.
“I’m not going to take her from you,” Shea said. “She’s not some prize pony to exchange between us.”
“No. She is not.” His gratitude gave way to wariness. She could see the unspoken question in his eye: What do you want, then?
When she hadn’t been drowning in theory, this was the exact question she’d turned over.
How could everyone win in a zero-sum game?
How could she set all of them free? Now that she’d spoken to Aideen, the answer seemed so simple.
“Give your crown and your title—and all the powers they come with—to Aideen. Name her the ruler of the Irish Otherworld.”
This, he obviously did not expect. Midir reeled back as though she’d slapped him across the face. “Name another prize.”
Shea glanced at Aideen. Her sister stared back at her with plain shock—and a hope that made her entire being seem to glow. Emboldened, Shea said, “No.”
“There must be something else you desire,” he countered, with an edge of desperation to his voice. “Riches or immortality. A magical ability of your choosing. Name anything, no matter how trivial or seemingly impossible. Name it, and it is yours.”
“I already have. I want my sister on your throne.”
Midir cast his gaze about helplessly, willing someone to come and wake him from this nightmare.
When nothing materialized, he removed his crown.
Shea could not even begin to guess what he was thinking as he stared down at it.
How long had he worn it? How much longer had he expected to?
Then, with newfound resolve, he approached his wife.
“Aideen Echraide,” he said hoarsely. Then, he amended, “Aideen Fury. Be Find. Dearest and gentlest and loveliest.” He spoke as though every word were simultaneously extracted under torture and plucked from a poem.
He spoke with reverence and terror and awe, like an acolyte before his cruel goddess.
“Sovereign Queen of the Irish Elfmounds.”
He set the crown atop her head, a band of bright gold and silver branches against her flaxen hair.
Once he did, the very earth trembled in recognition.
The wind gusted, carrying with it some ancient, primal voice.
It did not speak, only screamed, but Shea understood it all the same: All Hail Aideen, Queen of Tír nAill.
In the distance, Shea could hear the faint shouting of the crowd. They’d have to be addressed soon enough. For now, Midir and Aideen seemed to be the last two people on earth.
“What will be your first decree?” he asked brokenly. “Will you command me to go?”
“No, but I will ask you to,” Aideen said softly. “I have some things I need to figure out. Will you wait until I do?”
“Of course.”
“Even if it takes me a thousand years?”
“Aideen.” Midir took Aideen’s face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that had begun to fall. “I have loved you for a hundred lifetimes. I will love you for a hundred more.”
She did not reply. She only laid her hand atop his, then pressed a kiss to his palm. Shea couldn’t bring herself to watch anymore. Without a word, she slipped away and left the two of them to their goodbyes.