Chapter 16 Ciaran
CIARAN
The path to the lake winds through frost-touched pines, their needles catching the afternoon light like scattered silver.
I adjust the weight of the picnic basket on my shoulder, stealing glances at Brynn as we walk.
She's been quieter than usual since agreeing to this outing, her hazel-green eyes distant in a way that makes my chest tighten with uncertainty.
It took the combined pleading power of both girls to get her to close the shop for the afternoon.
Nya had looked up at her with those wide violet eyes and asked, so softly I almost missed it, if they could "make wishes together like a real family.
" Rhea had immediately seized on the idea, bouncing on her toes as she explained how they'd never been to the lake during Ikuyenda, how it would be perfect with the four of us.
Brynn had looked trapped between their hopeful faces and whatever walls she's been rebuilding since our kiss three nights ago. But something in Nya's quiet request seemed to break through her defenses, and she'd sighed and reached for the "Closed" sign before I could even add my own arguments.
Now she walks beside me in careful silence, her breath visible in small puffs that dissipate quickly in the cold air. She's bundled in her winter cloak, the brown wool bringing out the warm tones in her skin, but there's a tension in her shoulders that speaks to more than just the winter chill.
"Look!" Rhea's voice cuts through my brooding as we crest the last hill. "You can see it!"
The Lake of Wishes spreads before us like polished glass, its surface reflecting the pale winter sky in perfect mirror clarity.
Ancient pines lean close to the water's edge, their dark branches creating intimate alcoves along the shoreline.
In the distance, I can make out the graceful silhouettes of thaliverns—the elegant water birds that nest here year-round—skimming across the shallows with barely a ripple to mark their passage.
"It's beautiful," Nya breathes, her small hand finding mine as we descend toward the water.
Her fingers are warm despite the cold, a sure sign that her magic is responding to her excitement.
It's been doing that more often lately—little flares of protective energy that keep her comfortable when she should be shivering, that ease her breathing when exertion would normally leave her gasping.
I squeeze her hand gently, relief flooding through me at the steady warmth of her skin.
The improvement in her health since we arrived in Eryndral has been remarkable, but I still catch myself watching for signs of strain, for the telltale pallor that means her magic is working too hard to compensate for her damaged lungs.
The shoreline is dotted with other families enjoying the traditional lake visit, their voices carrying across the water in a pleasant murmur of conversation and laughter.
Children chase each other through the shallows while parents spread blankets on the rocky beach, the whole scene suffused with the warm community spirit that defines Ikuyenda.
I find a quiet spot away from the main gathering, a small cove where the pines create natural shelter from the wind. The blanket spreads easily over the smooth stones, and I set the basket down with a satisfied grunt.
"Can we go in the water?" Rhea asks, already tugging at her boots with the impatience of youth.
"It'll be freezing," Brynn warns, but there's fondness in her voice rather than real objection.
"Please?" Nya adds her quiet plea to Rhea's more vocal enthusiasm. "Just for a minute?"
I catch Brynn's eye over their heads, and something passes between us—a moment of shared understanding about the impossibility of denying two determined children their simple joy. She sighs dramatically, but she's fighting a smile.
"Fine. But you warm up by the fire as soon as you're done, understood?"
They're already yanking off shoes and stockings, their excited chatter echoing across the water as they race toward the shallows. Their shrieks of delight at the cold water's bite make me chuckle despite the nerves coiling in my stomach.
Because now it's just Brynn and me on this blanket, with enough privacy for the conversation I've been planning since she pulled away from our kiss. The conversation I need to have if there's any chance of salvaging whatever this thing is between us.
She settles beside me on the blanket, careful to maintain space between us, her attention focused on the girls.
Rhea has convinced Nya to splash in the deeper water, both of them shrieking with laughter as the cold hits their ankles.
But I can see the magic shimmering around Nya like a heat haze, keeping her warm and comfortable despite the freezing temperature.
"Her magic's getting stronger," Brynn observes quietly, and I realize she's noticed it too—the way Nya moves through the water without the bone-deep chill that should have her teeth chattering by now.
"It responds to her emotions," I explain, pulling the small leather pouch of coins from my pocket and setting it between us. "Happiness, excitement—they make it flare. Fear and stress do too, but differently. More defensive."
"Is that why she got so sick in Kyrdonis?"
The question catches me off guard with its perceptiveness. I study Brynn's profile as she watches our daughters play, noting the way she includes Nya so naturally in her concern. Like she's already thinking of her as family.
"Partly," I admit. "The city was overwhelming for her. I just don't think it was the place for her." After a moment, I add, "Or me."
She hums softly, and I know she's not going to say anything more. And I've been trying to be patient. Understanding. To go at her pace. But I need Brynn to see I'm not so easy to scare off.
Which means I think we finally need to talk.
"Brynn." Her name comes out rougher than I intended, and she finally looks at me directly. Those hazel-green eyes are wary but not closed off, and I cling to that distinction like a lifeline. "I know you don't trust dark elves. Given Rhea..."
I trail off, letting her fill in whatever details she's comfortable sharing.
I've pieced together enough to know that some bastard abandoned them both, left Brynn to raise a half-blood daughter alone in a world that doesn't always welcome such children kindly.
But I won't push for specifics she's not ready to give.
"I understand why you pulled away the other night," I continue when she doesn't respond. "Why you've been keeping your distance. And I want you to know that I'm not asking you to forget whatever he did to you. I'm not asking you to trust me because I think I've somehow earned it in a matter weeks."
Her mouth tightens slightly, and I can see her preparing to deflect, to build those walls higher. But I press on before she can retreat completely.
"But I know what it feels like to be in similar shoes.
" That seems to give her pause so I keep going.
"I married Syrelle for all the wrong reasons," I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
"She was noble-born, from a family with connections I needed.
I was a mid-level poet with talent but no status, no way to advance my career beyond writing penny novels for the masses. "
Brynn's eyebrows rise slightly at the admission, but she doesn't interrupt.
"The marriage was supposed to be practical. Beneficial for both of us. She got access to the money my writing brought in, I got access to her family's social circles. It seemed... reasonable."
"But it wasn't."
"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend, carrying years of frustration and disappointment.
"Nothing was ever enough for her. Not the money, not the status, not the parties or the clothes or the endless stream of admirers she collected like trophies.
She was always chasing the next high, the next thrill, the next thing that might fill whatever void was eating at her from the inside. "
I pause, watching a thalvern skim across the water's surface, its wings barely disturbing the perfect reflection. The girls' laughter drifts back to us, a bright counterpoint to the weight of old memories.
"The aviid powder started as a party drug," I continue, forcing myself to meet Brynn's eyes.
"Something to enhance the experience at those glittering salon gatherings she lived for.
But it became more than that. An escape, an addiction, a way to avoid dealing with the reality that nothing in her life actually made her happy. "
I see her muscles tense. I don't think Brynn will ever get over the fact that Nya was hurt in the process because of that.
I have to look away to keep going. "Even when she was pregnant.
She saw Nya as an inconvenience, something that would interfere with her lifestyle.
The pregnancy made her angry, resentful.
She used more during those months, not less.
and then it kept going until she finally took too much one night.
" I rub at my face. "Chasing that high finally killed her. "
Brynn is quiet for a long moment, processing. When she speaks, her voice is softer than I expected. "Did you love her?"
"No." The admission should feel like a betrayal, but it only brings relief.
"I tried to. Thought I could learn to, given time.
But she made it impossible. Every conversation was about her wants, her needs, her disappointments.
Every interaction was calculated to get something from me—money, attention, validation.
I was never a person to her, just a resource to be exploited. "
"That must have been lonely."
The understanding in her voice nearly undoes me.
Because yes, it was lonely. Desperately, achingly lonely, to be married to someone who saw me as nothing more than a means to an end.
To know that no matter what I achieved or provided, it would never be enough to make her see me as worthy of genuine affection.
"I know what it's like," I say quietly, "to not be enough for someone. To watch them look past you, through you, always searching for something better just beyond your reach. I know what it feels like to be abandoned because, for some reason, they are always reaching for something more."
Brynn's hands are clenched in her lap, her knuckles white against the wool of her cloak. I can see the recognition in her eyes, the way my words are hitting home in ways I hadn't expected.
"But I also know what it feels like to find something real," I continue, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Something worth staying for. Worth fighting for."
I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and cover one of her clenched hands with mine. Her skin is cold despite her gloves, and I can feel the fine tremor running through her fingers.
"I see you, Brynn," I say, putting everything I feel into the words.
"Not as a convenience or a distraction or something to pass the time until better options come along.
I see your strength, your kindness, the way you've built a life and a home for yourself and Rhea against all odds.
I see how you protect the people you love, how you've carved out space for joy and beauty even when the world tried to take it from you. "
Her breath catches, and I can see the wall she's built around her heart beginning to crack. The girls' voices seem to fade into the background, the whole world narrowing to this moment, this choice, this fragile thing growing between us.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her, meaning every word. "Not unless you ask me to. Not because I get bored or restless or because something shinier catches my eye. I want to be here, with you, with both girls. I want to build something real, something lasting. Something that matters."
A tear slips down her cheek, and she doesn't bother to wipe it away. When she finally speaks, her voice is rough with emotion.
"I'm scared," she whispers.
"I know." I squeeze her hand gently, feeling some of the tension leave her fingers. "I'm scared too. But maybe... maybe we can be scared together."
She's quiet for a moment, and I wonder if I pushed too far. But then she softly sighs, "Maybe."
And then she leans into my side, my magic settling over us to keep us warm as the girls coming running up. I cast the heat over them, too, speeding up the fire's drying process.
We might not be quite there, yet, but I can feel it. Brynn is trying to trust me. It's just hard for her.
But I'll earn it. Each day, bit by bit, I'll show her I'm worth it.