Chapter Thirty-Three
Eventually, Aideen found Shea in a forgotten corner of the gardens.
Shea sat beneath a trellis of blooming jasmine.
Butterflies in every color flitted around her, settling on her shoulders and nestling into her hair.
On any other day, she might have swatted them away.
Right now, they were oddly comforting. They reminded her of Ciara.
“Will you do one last thing for me?” Aideen asked.
Shea hadn’t expected to see Aideen again so soon—and certainly not looking so calmly determined. “Yeah. Anything.”
Uncertainty stole over her face. It made her look girlish, almost how Shea remembered her. “I should face Fuamnach after all this time. Will you come with me?”
“Why?” Shea asked guardedly.
“Because I’ve dreamt about her almost every single night since I got here.” Aideen wrapped her arms around herself. “I only remember flashes of her and what happened. But I do remember that I was shocked to see her in the castle. Midir never told me he had another wife.”
“Men,” Shea muttered under her breath.
“She was wronged,” Aideen pressed. “I’ve never once spoken to her. I want to hear what she has to say. I think it might give me some closure.”
“You’re a good person,” Shea said flatly. “But I think this is a terrible idea. In my limited experience, she’s a really unpleasant, spiteful person. She’ll only disappoint you.”
Aideen lifted her chin defiantly. “Maybe. But what more could she do to me?”
A lot of things, probably. Shea thought of the way she’d effortlessly transformed Midir’s guards and the deadly sharp points of her nails.
Then, there was the hunger for vengeance that had sustained her for the better part of a thousand years.
But that wasn’t helpful to bring up. Who was she, anyway, to stop Aideen from confronting the one person who haunted her?
Shea was a lot of things, but she tried not to be a hypocrite.
So she sighed and said, “All right.”
They made their way to the tower that housed Fuamnach’s prison.
The stairs had crumbled here and there from Midir’s outburst, which made Shea nervous, but they held fast. Thankfully, the cell carved into the apple tree remained perfectly intact.
Shea stepped into the room, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. Aideen trailed just behind her.
The dark shape slumped on the floor lurched forward with sudden ferocity. Fuamnach’s pale face appeared, her teeth bared in a snarl. Aideen shrank back in surprise.
Fuamnach curled sharp-clawed fingers around the iron bars. She did not flinch as her skin smoked and hissed. For a moment, the two women regarded each other in silence. Then, Fuamnach spat a wad of blood onto Aideen’s face.
Aideen looked stunned, but her expression hardened into impassivity soon enough. She wiped the blood off with the belled sleeve of her gown. The red was garish against the pristine white of the fabric.
It seemed to please Fuamnach. She released the bars and fixed Aideen with a smile that was like a blade parting flesh. “To what do I owe the visit, interloper?”
“You really do hate me,” Aideen said wonderingly, “even after all this time.”
“I don’t hate you, you silly, self-centered girl.
I did, maybe, for a time.” Fuamnach paced a slow, prowling circle around her prison.
“But you did not cast me aside. You did not try to kill me. You did not turn my own children against me. No, I don’t hate you.
But to take you from him again would have destroyed him.
I regret I could not see the job finished. ”
Aideen let out a soft breath. “I thought you would frighten me more. I worried that I might hate you, too. But I only pity you.”
Fuamnach sneered. “Spare me.”
“I was a child when I came to your home.” Aideen’s voice trembled, but she did not back down. “I am not the same girl you met. I didn’t even know you existed. If I had…”
“You would have done the same thing,” Fuamnach finished. “You had little choice in the matter. Your father sold you to him.”
Aideen recoiled. “You know. And still, you’d punish me.”
“If you’re waiting for an apology, you will be disappointed.” She slid back to the ground. Folded in on herself, with her yellow eyes peering out of the darkness, Fuamnach resembled a black cat. Her gaze slid to Shea at last. Clearly, she’d just noticed her. “What news?”
“I won.”
“And what punishment have you devised?”
“You’re in the presence of the new Queen of the Otherworld,” Shea said flatly. “Show some respect.”
Fuamnach’s lips parted. Her pupils dilated as she drank in Aideen’s crown. “I thought I heard the cry of Lia Fáil. It is true.” She shook her head, recovering herself. “Then I expect you intend to execute me properly this time, or else let me rot in here until I forget who I am entirely.”
“I don’t.”
Fuamnach’s expression turned wary. “Then why have you come? To extract some sort of admission of guilt? To—”
“To tell you that I’m leaving him. I thought you might want to know.” Aideen’s gaze was unwavering.
Fuamnach laughed disbelievingly. It was softer than Shea expected—and as rich and dark as wine. “A punishment of his own making, then. His greed and vanity have consequences at last.”
Aideen wrung her hands together. “I also wanted to tell you that you’re free to go.”
“What?” Shea and Fuamnach cried at once. They exchanged a look.
“Aideen,” Shea protested. “You really want to do that, after everything she’s done to you?”
Her own question—and the vehemence of it—startled her.
Did Shea want to see her punished? Part of her felt sorry for Fuamnach, sure.
The other, louder part loathed her for what she’d done.
It was Midir who’d wronged her, not Aideen.
Of course, she’d chosen the easier target, the indirect path to vengeance.
Maybe she’d succeeded in inflicting a thousand years of heartsickness on him, but how many other people had been drowned in the tide of her rage?
“She’s not even sorry,” Shea added. “If you really want someone to blame for the path our lives took, it’s her.”
“I’m tired of this,” Aideen said to Fuamnach. “Aren’t you?”
Fuamnach did not reply, but her eyes shone with some emotion Shea couldn’t place.
“I thought about you a lot, in the years since I returned to Tír nAill. What would drive someone to this? That pain had to be unbearable to last you this long. Maybe it makes me na?ve, but I’ve seen enough to think that maybe revenge isn’t worth it.
” Aideen spoke quietly, almost self-consciously.
She paused only to pull a key from her sleeve.
She hesitated, staring down at the key cradled in her palm.
Then, she blew out a breath and drew back her shoulders.
She unlocked the door, then grabbed hold of the iron bars and wrenched them open.
Fuamnach emerged from the shadows; they parted like a curtain as she stepped out into the light. Shea’s breath hitched at the sight of her: cruelly, darkly beautiful in full glare of the sun.
Fuamnach took Aideen’s face in one hand, tilting up her chin to look her in the eye.
Aideen did not shrink or cower, but Shea could hear the high, thready sound of her breaths.
Her own heart roared in her ears. Aideen and Fuamnach stared at one another for what felt like an eternity.
And then, Fuamnach let her go. It was as though she’d set down the weight of the world.
Lowly, she said, “As much as I hate to admit it, I owe you a life-debt. What will you have of me?”
“Only that we lay this to rest. Let there be no more bad blood between us,” said Aideen. “That’s all.”
“You will have that softness beaten out of you eventually, child. I hope that day is far away.” Fuamnach brushed past Aideen and headed toward the window.
“Wait,” Aideen called.
Fuamnach paused and turned the sharp line of her profile to Aideen.
“Where will you go now?”
“I do not know. I think I will remain in Tír nAill. Return to my foster father’s house if he still lives.
I have spent too long on the other side of the Veil.
I tire of hiding. I tire of loss. I tire of mortals and their small, inconsequential problems—their inability to learn and their inability to surrender.
You can only watch a society destroy and rebuild itself so many times.
” Fuamnach pinned Shea with that ancient, wolfish stare.
“You should know that a faerie lover is not an easy one to keep.”
I do not want unchanging beauty, Ciara had told her. I cannot become mortal, but I think you might make me human.
Shea shrugged. “I’ve never known a love that was easy.”
Fuamnach gave her a lingering, mysterious smile. Whether Shea pleased her or not, she couldn’t tell. She only said, “Good luck.”
“Goodbye.”
A breeze sighed through the ruined battlements, carrying with it the scents of brine and sweet decay. When she blinked, Fuamnach was gone. In the distance, Shea heard the mournful cry of a crow. She shivered at the feeling of profound and sudden desolation.
“Thank you,” Aideen whispered.
Shea glanced over at her. “For what?”
Aideen stood in a thin column of light. She carefully removed the crown from her head and traced its filigreed surface with a fingertip. “For giving me this chance.”
“Of course.” Her throat constricted. “I wish I could say it was entirely selfless, but I…”
“What is it?”
“My friends had wishes, too. I didn’t know how else to make it work for everyone. I should’ve asked before I—”
“No. Don’t feel guilty.” Aideen twirled the crown in her hands.
Sunlight flashed across the engravings: interlocking patterns of waves and cranes.
A smile played on her lips. “You don’t know how happy it makes me, to know you have friends who matter so much to you.
I worried about you while I was gone, you know. ”
“You don’t have to worry anymore. I think I’m going to be okay.”
For the first time, Shea believed her own words.
“Okay. Good.” Aideen’s voice wobbled. “Then, you have an audience with the Queen. What can I do for you?”
The Queen. Shea hadn’t been able to believe it as a child, when Midir first hailed her as such. She could hardly believe it now. But looking at her sister, ethereal and attentive in the soft glow of day, she knew that it would suit her.
“Daniil’s sister, Irina, is being kept in thrall by the Lord of Mag Mar.”
“I’ll have her released at once,” Aideen replied, without hesitation.
“But he’ll be angry, won’t he?”
“Maybe. But I can frame it as recompense for Daniil’s loss to Fuamnach in the semifinal round. I heard he made quite an impression on the gatekeepers. I think some of the fae are afraid of him now.”
Shea couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah. They should be.”
“And I will, of course,” Aideen went on, “try to negotiate for Ciara to reside across the Veil.”
“How did you—”
Aideen smiled with all the mischief Shea remembered her for. “Don’t look so surprised. She would ask me about the mortal world from time to time. Sometimes she even asked me about you.”
“Great. Thanks. I think that’s everything.” Shea’s face burned with embarrassment. “What will you do now?”
Aideen hummed pensively. “I don’t know, exactly. For so long, all I’ve wanted was the chance to make my own decisions. But it’s overwhelming, isn’t it? All the possibility?”
“I know what you mean. None of this ended the way I thought I wanted it to. I hardly know what to do with myself now.”
“Will you keep playing chess?”
“I think so,” Shea said, as casually as she could. To do anything else would make her maudlin. She couldn’t bear any more crying for at least a week. “We’ll see.”
Aideen gave her a soft, knowing half smile. “I’m glad.”
In the companionate silence, Shea listened to the soft rush of the wind through the stone. She couldn’t think of anything more to say, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave if this really would be the last time they ever spoke.
“So,” she said thickly—and immediately winced. So much for not crying for a week. “I guess I should get going soon.”
“Shea.” Aideen laid a hand on her arm. “You do know you’re always welcome here, don’t you?”
“Really? Is that even allowed?”
She took her hand and squeezed it. “I think it’s time the rules changed. Don’t you? Until then, I’m sure we can bend them a bit.”
From the window, Shea stared out at the horizon. In the play of light and shadow, all the world seemed to her a chessboard. On it, with all its endless possibilities, they were finally free.