Chapter 9 #3
I left my warmth and compassion for them in Monstera Bluff that day too. Right here in this spot, in fact. I will never forgive my uncle’s failures that forced me to go back without her.
Fifteen Years Ago
My phone buzzes in my pants pocket. Looking at the screen, my younger brother Elgar’s name appears.
I walk into the salon and shut the doors as to not disturb Ada, who has been cleaning out her mother’s workshop for hours.
Though I suspect she is lost in her memories and not getting much done.
It is understandable. It has only been a few months since her parents’ deaths.
Each day is still filled with grief. Answering my phone, I greet, “Hello, brother. How goes the day?”
“Not well. I have no easy way to say this, but Uncle Harlok was gravely injured. He will have to step down as the Huntmaster,” Elgar begins, sounding weary.
“Will he live?” My voice is thick, shocked by the news.
“It is likely, though he will be physically impaired when he wakes up. He may never walk again,” he answers.
He draws in a long breath before continuing.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later. He was too old to hunt in such a small party, but he was too stubborn to listen. That side of our family is all the same. Utterly irresponsible. His party encountered several revenants traveling together, an unusual encounter they were unprepared for. Now he is wounded, in a coma. Our healers say his recovery will take months if not years.”
“Was Torman with him?” My voice shakes.
“For better or worse, no. Our cousin rarely hunts now. He dodges all responsibility, and his father looks the other way. Now he is busy trying to take up his father’s mantle, making the proclamation that it is his right to govern in his father’s absence.
But he is still unpopular. The hunters are already deeply divided.
Some are refusing to go out at all. They refuse to elect our cousin.
And I cannot blame them. But they do not want to give me the job either.
They say that I am too young, too untested even though I have led hunts for years.
There will be civil unrest until you get back here,” he speaks adamantly.
“Fire of the frost! My mate is here. I was already told by Harlok and the elders she would not be welcomed into the community. Elect one of those stubborn hunters then if they think you are not fit for it. I am not returning anytime soon,” I say with conviction as I stare out the window.
Bright afternoon sun shines on the mess of flowers in front of the house, so different than the harsh Arctic terrain of my home.
“There is no one better suited for the role of Huntmaster of the True North than you. The other hunters will never agree on who among them to elevate. They bicker enough as it is. Distrust is rampant. To ask them to grant one so much power over the rest will cause a riot. The clan will suffer. You are still our best hunter and now one of our most studied in the ways of the Malefic. They will rally under your rule. You may be the one thing they agree upon, other than their dislike of Harlok and Torman,” Elgar argues.
“By the bluest glacier, this cannot be the only way. There were plenty of hunters of all ages capable of being Huntmaster when I left,” I reply.
“Norrell, you have been gone for three years. Tensions have grown since then. Torman’s laziness has drawn the ire of the hunters.
Harlok’s refusal to bring him into line has caused the hunters to become restless and angry.
Most are calling for you by name to return.
They looked up to you for so many years.
The elders believe it is the only way to bring our clan back together,” he disputes me.
“What about Father? Can he take Harlok’s place until you are deemed ready?” My desperation is evident. The plan sounds weak even to my ears.
“No, that wild work of frost would go nowhere, believe me. I thought of this and already spoke to Father about it. He is even older than Harlok and has not hunted in many years, as is standard for that age.” His voice sounds haggard, full of regret.
“Then I will agree only if I can bring her with,” I declare.
“Only the blue hag of winter knows why, but it would sow the seeds of chaos even deeper. You cannot bring a witch here. Mother and Father accept her. I do too. But we are of a very different mind than the rest of the clan. She will only suffer from their prejudice, their aversion to anyone possessing magick. They will be cruel. Do you want her to bear such a life? Be alone in a hostile environment, unsure of her safety the moment your back is turned? Your union with her will end by necessity if you bring her here,” he states sadly.
“They would never. As my mate, they would have to show her respect.” My voice booms in anger.
“And what of a child? What if your child is a witch and not a yeti? Will you subject your child to such an environment?” he reasons, his voice trailing off to almost nothing. We are both breaking under the weight of these expectations.
“I…” I am at a loss for words. It would take many years, perhaps decades, for their minds to be changed about magick wielders. I could not do that to Ada. Any child we may have. It would not be fair to trap them there.
“I am so sorry, brother. Believe me, I do not want this for you. Your path away from the clan has been forged through your own making and should be honored as such. You should never be asked to give it up. But the future of the North Clan is at stake. Our numbers are so low that we would not survive a rebellion. We would be fighting ourselves while the Malefic Folk grow drunk on power unabated near the True North. It would be the end of everything as we know it.” Elgar sounds defeated.
“The elders…” I try to reach for any alternative. “They must have a plan. They could be the ruling body.”
“That is not our way. They advise and not always unanimously. We need a leader.” The words land like a heavy weight.
“I will be a shell of a male without her. This will cost not just me, but all of us, if I do this.” The grim reality sinks in. Any hope for the future dwindling fast.
“It will. We live by bluest reason. There is no other choice. Do what you must. The clan will not be at peace until you come back.” His voice sounds as hollow as mine.
My mind races with the possibilities of integrating her into our clan, their bigotry be damned.
She could prove to them that magick wielders have a place in our society and that no harm will come to us with connection to outsiders.
Ada’s heart is kind and pure, surely they will all recognize that and eventually accept her.
She would be a good role model to them. Ada would be glad to help me with this.
Show them that magick-wielding Whispered Folk are different from the Malefic that we hunt.
She could never be mistaken for one. My chest constricts as I consider how long that could take.
Harlok, when he recovers, and many other elders would fight every step.
Poison the well against her. Years of shunning and browbeating would cure her of those precious qualities.
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach. Even if she did not live here in Monstera Bluff full-time, she could visit whenever she wanted.
The journey is long, but if she stayed here for weeks at a time it would not be such a burden.
The shop could be managed by someone else.
But if we were to ever have a child… How could I justify being absent from them so much of the time?
How would the clan react to a child who may very well be a witch?
They would treat them horribly, like an outcast, just like their mother.
If I do not bring her to our settlement, how often could I leave and visit here?
A few weeks a year at most. Even with an expiration date on my leadership, she would have to wait for me, put her life on hold, be a single parent, for many years until my brother or someone else can step in.
Though this scenario might be easiest for her, what kind of mate is gone most of the time?
In that moment, I realize I can never tell her why I must go.
She would insist on coming with me, though it would be a prison sentence for her.
She would gladly let go of everything in her life to be lonely.
Under constant watch, constant threat. I would never trust anyone beyond my immediate family with her.
Not even my uncle or cousin. Especially not them.
They would eagerly cast her out for the Malefic to find.
I love her too much to trade her happiness for mine.
The thought of her facing so much pain—shrinking her life to shield herself from some crusty, old yetis who may have to all die off before she will be treated with any degree of civility—makes me sick.
The pain in my chest grows as different scenarios race through my mind.
All the ways they would cut her down until there is nothing left.
Her innate joy ruined. That light that burns so brightly within her snuffed out.
I would not deserve to be her mate if I knowingly put her through that.
In truth, I already put her through too much. I never deserved her.
Collapsing into a chair, my head falls into my hands.
My clan has put me in an impossible position.
It is not fair to me. And it is even worse for Ada.
Pain radiates from my chest into my limbs, my head.
It is unbearable. But it pushes me into a decision.
As soon as I know what must happen, the pain is replaced by a hollowness.
Everything that makes life good has been cored out of me with the realization of what I must do.
She will have a happy, full life in this community, a place where she is so deeply loved and admired.
Her future children deserve a peaceful, loving life.
Her friends and family will continue to lift her up when I leave.
Her future is promising if I am not in it.
The choice comes down to whether I destroy myself or both of us.
The answer feels right now that I have made it. She stays.
With an unwavering resolve, I run upstairs to pack, shoving some clothes, books, and electronics into an oversized duffle bag.
I must go now. If I spend another night with her, I will never leave her arms. And then my clan will fall to ruin.
I do not know what would happen to my family.
What would happen to the world if the Malefic had no barrier to reaching the True North.
I will make this a quick clean break for both our sakes.
If I can convince her I am a ruthless, heartless, terrible male, there is a chance she will love again.
Move on to someone who would never give up the honor of being loved and cared for by her.
I will never move on. Never get over her. Ada will always be my entire world.
Stepping away from the window and the memories of that awful turning point in my life, I consider Elgar’s advice to focus on helping my mate while I am still here.
I feel compelled to, regardless. The clan has been an afterthought this entire week.
It is a relief. Devotion to Ada feels so right, in a way that leading the clan never did.
If she only allows me into her orbit for this fleeting moment, I will make sure she is well taken care of.
Wandering toward Ada’s workshop, I crack open the door.
The memory of her face as I broke the news to her explodes into my mind.
Shocked. Crushed. Betrayed. Like her world had truly ended in that instant.
Mayhap it felt like it had. It did for me too.
But she has thrived here since. I cannot regret that.
Unable to face my shame any longer, I put distance between me and that room, crossing the hallway into the kitchen.
It gives me the strength to push past the bad memories.
I must focus on the present. Her kitchen is clean already, so I step out of the house to her back garden.
It is evident that whatever magick she utilized to control the growth of the grass and landscaping has long since depleted.
It has been looking more overgrown by the day.
The walk downtown is swift. The gardening store has much of what I am looking for to manage the lawn. I will start on it at first light tomorrow. It is one less thing to manage when so much else weighs on her shoulders.
When I walk up to the property, carrying my newly acquired tools, I skirt the edge of the house to hide them at the back of the garden. Hopefully, if I work while she is asleep or out of the house, Ada will not observe me out here.
Returning to the house, I wash my hands and head straight to the laundry room.
With one load of laundry completely done and now folded and placed in the linen closet and the second in the dryer, I return to my room to read until the laundry buzzer sounds.
As always, my mind is on Ada. Pondering all I know of the fae and their powers.
There must have been something in the hundreds of old tomes I read, especially those in the academy library. It just is not coming to me yet.
After I fold and put away that second load of laundry, I wander downstairs to see if the cats have been fed their dinner.
Ada must still be napping. She has not left her room since we briefly spoke.
Their bowls look the same as this morning.
I wash them out quickly in the sink, including their water bowl.
Ada keeps their food in one of the lower kitchen cabinets, so I squat down and inspect any difference in their cans of food.
As if they have a sixth sense, the cats sprint toward me, purring and trying to climb into the cabinet around the short stacks of cans.
“Any preference?” I ask with an amused grin.
Two sets of round eyes look up at me. Vanny chirps once and then they both run over and sit in front of their clean bowls, ready to eat.
They must not be picky. I grab two cans, pulling off the lids and pour them into the bowls.
The cats somehow manage to purr and eat simultaneously, making little vocalizations as they open their mouths to take each new bite.
An unbidden laugh escapes me at their enthusiasm.
These furry little creatures are growing on me.