Chapter 20
I didn’t reel from bed, instead blinking into the morning with a contented sigh.
I ran my hand through my hair and stared up at the ceiling in awe of it all—of him and his unyielding dedication.
The lives we’d shared. Leeran: my love. My stomach leapt as my fingers caught near my ear, and a smile overcame me.
I twirled the strange little flower about, Leeran’s warm touch feathering across my memory.
I will always be here waiting for you.
Suddenly, I was no longer afraid to fall asleep. I craved it.
I floated from Roxie’s bed—who was still snoring on the far side—jotted a goodbye note, and headed to my room.
After a quick glance around, I found a half-drunk water bottle on the bathroom counter, peeled the label, slid the stem into the bottle, and placed it on my bedside table.
With a final smile, I readied myself for the day, a renewed sense of confidence guiding me as I headed for an early breakfast.
Every step was like gliding on air. Honestly, aside from the sheer unbelievability factor, I should have seen the signs of my previous lives sooner.
Those journals spoke straight to my soul, seamlessly reflecting experiences in my current life.
They were plain as day, black and white.
Accepting the truth in my woken state was as easy as breathing because I knew their faces: Fagan, Lynn, and my father.
They’d existed, and I loved them with my entire being.
It was simple, like looking in a mirror and going, Yup, that’s my reflection!
My body felt sturdier, my steps surer as I replayed the returned memories of my babies.
All this time, I’d believed my life held no significance.
That I meant nothing. Edified nobody’s life.
Now, I knew better. Those little lives, woven together by my own flesh and blood, they’d wanted me.
Needed me. Witnessing the light in Fagan and Lynn’s eyes, their pure innocence, changed me.
They were good, honest, and kind. They radiated hope.
And though it was still hard to accept on some level, I recognized that as the one who’d brought them into the world, taught them, and raised them …
maybe my soul wasn’t as awful as I’d always believed it to be.
Because anyone capable of creating such beauty couldn’t be entirely bad, right?
That newfound revelation ignited a fire in me overnight, the urge to read and learn and discover my past overwhelming in the best way. Finally, I had answers.
I’d been wanted.
Sue eyeballed me as I approached the counter. “I see someone’s in a good mood today.”
My grin widened. “Sure am. And how are you today?”
“Muffins are out, the scent of bacon is in the air, and I had twenty blissfully uninterrupted minutes to sip my coffee with the sunrise. Doesn’t get much better than that!
” She reached for a plate, stacked a heap of bacon with a blueberry muffin on the side and handed it over the counter.
“Now, be careful. That bacon is fresh out of the pan, so don’t burn yourself. ”
“Oh, um … I actually don’t eat meat.” Jack’s disapproval rattled in the back of my head.
“I am so sorry! Here, hand that back over.” She slid the plate down the marble countertop, grabbed a clean one, and dished two big scoops of something concealed in a small black pot on the stove.
“There you are, my dear: tofu scramble with veggies and a blueberry muffin. Or are you vegan? Because I can always whip something up from scratch if—”
“No, no, that’s okay! This is amazing, thank you.”
“The mark of a good chef is the ability to please any palate. I’ll keep this in mind and whip you up some more special dishes in the future.” She winked.
With a final smile, I drifted through the foyer, slipping down the hall to Fhírinne, plate in hand. I found Miss Celine perched along the fountain’s edge with her head back, soaking in the rays of early morning sun seeping through the solarium windows.
“Good morning, Fey,” she greeted without opening her eyes.
I plopped beside her and shook the plate. “Want some?”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m alright. Thank you.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, stuffing a chunk of muffin in my cheek.
“What are you doing down here so early?”
I swallowed, a blueberry nearly catching in my throat. “Wanted to do some reading. You?”
“Needed some peace and quiet.” The light glimmered on her cheeks.
“If I promise to keep quiet, can I stay?”
Her face softened, attention falling on me. “You never have to ask, Fey. You are always welcome here. That’s why I gave you a key, so you could seek solace here whenever you like.”
Warmth spread through me, much the same as the light that’d flooded my bloodstream when I battled those black waters.
The woman with the decapitated arm popped into my head without warning, her haunting voice chasing the warmth from my body.
Deception, she’d moaned. Panic gripped me but dissipated without warning, and I turned in time to see Celine’s wrist flinch.
“You use magic,” I stated, because it wasn’t a question. Not anymore.
Her face flushed. “Why would you say that? You know magic isn’t—”
“Please don’t lie to me. I’ve had enough of that in my life.”
She shifted in her seat, fiddled with her talisman. “All right. I hadn’t planned to tell you quite this soon, but … yes. I do.”
“Quite so soon? So, you planned to tell me in the first place?” I swallowed hard. Something about Celine and her magic was altogether other. Cillian’s affinity buzzed with this solid feel to it somehow, but hers … Well, I didn’t really know, it was just different.
She shifted to face me. “I planned to tell you when you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
She’s different this time.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “I—I’ve met you before, haven’t I?”
She scoffed, a foreign gesture for a woman so poised. “Before Saint Peter’s? I hardly think—”
“Why are you lying?” My lungs shrunk, the dots connecting. “Wait, are you and Cillian in on this together? Is that why he’s been avoiding me?”
She rose, rested a hand on my elbow, and my body stilled like a violent ocean devoid of wind. “It’s nothing like that, I promise. Cillian and I just don’t want to overwhelm you. The lives we lead are … difficult.”
“And what about the lives I’ve led? They seemed pretty difficult too.” I pointed to the cabinet and folded my arms. Whatever they thought they were protecting me from wasn’t doing me any damn favors. The unknown—that’s what overwhelmed me. The guesswork.
Her body stiffened. “You know about your past lives? How?”
I looked her over and my stomach twisted.
Leeran hadn’t said our relationship was a secret, yet something deep inside said to keep it quiet.
To omit. It was only fair, given that they’d both done the same to me, right?
Most likely still were. I met her gaze. “It wasn’t hard deciphering the journals. ”
“You put that together from the journals alone?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Well, it wasn’t from any helpful insight on you and Cillian’s part, that’s for sure.”
“Fey …” She reached for me again, but I pulled away. Her face tightened, eyes drifting back and forth across my face. “We never wanted to keep things from you. It’s just … your mind, it’s fragile.”
And there it was: the truth. Like Jack and Glenda, they thought I was breakable and overly sensitive.
That’s how they excused the lies. The deception.
Whatever information they held, I decided right then and there that I didn’t want to know.
While they might think me weak, Leeran …
he’d called me powerful; believed me capable of great things.
“I’d rather be fragile than a liar,” I bit through my teeth, turned, and headed for the door without so much as a glance behind.
“Fey, please! We only wanted to protect you. You have to understand—”
“No, I don’t!”
I’d had enough of Cillian’s avoidance, of Celine’s well-mannered lies disguised as kindness.
If they’d truly meant to help me, they would have explained the Shroud’s existence before this and spared me those restless nights I sat up wondering if I’d gone insane.
All I wanted was Leeran: his truths, his support. Cillian and Celine be damned.
I didn’t need them and most certainly didn’t need more excuses.
Roxie did her best to cheer me up for the rest of the day, and I did my best to pretend it was working. But come nightfall, she’d finally run out of ideas.
“All right,” she said from across the dining room table. “What’s really wrong?”
I pushed a pea around my plate. “I told you, I’m just not feeling well.”
“Says the woman who showed up here bruised and dead tired after packing up her entire apartment in a night, then driving eight hours, and still managed to devour all her food.” She leaned closer and set a hand on my forehead.
“No fever … Come on, Fey, you know you can tell me anything. What’s going on with you? ”
What was I supposed to say? That Celine and Cillian used magic?
That my dreams were some kind of alternate reality?
Of course, I couldn’t. But I could talk about one part at least, maybe get a little of the weight off my chest. I bit my cheek, the iron spill across my tongue sharp and metallic.
I referenced Sam and Josh wrapped in close conversation and turned back to her with pursed lips. “So … I have these nightmares, right?”
“Yeah.” She folded her hands under her chin expectantly.
“Well, they’ve gotten out of control. Sometimes I can’t handle staying in my room after one hits. I’ve got to walk around and get it out, you know?”
She nodded.
“One of my first nights here I had a really brutal one, and I went down to the library to clear my head. While I was there, I—” The words lodged in my throat. Why was it so hard to talk about him? It’s not like he was the damn love of my life or something. “I ran into Cillian.”
She sat up straight. “Oh … what happened?”