Chapter 7 #3
“I have no sympathy for the humans or witches, Nuala. As far as I am concerned, they are a vile scourge that has poisoned Uile Breithà and the Four Courts,” I assured her, my voice rough with my fervour.
“But I care about you. My hands are stained with the blood of people I was meant to protect. It is not a burden I would want for you, and you have asked me to be your guardian, so allow me to do this for you. Let me be the monster you need.”
All of her distrust and frustration seemed to sputter out like a choked flame.
I watched in utter fascination as her pinched brows smoothed, and her frown lines softened as her lips parted.
She stared at me with breathtaking eyes, one amber and the other crystalline blue, until I realized how close we were sitting.
As well as the delicate feeling of her slender jaw still gripped in my calloused fingers.
She was… beautiful. But I didn’t understand why that was suddenly occurring to me or why it mattered at all.
I also noticed I was leaning over her in the assertive way that Aodhan used to appreciate.
Except my former lover had been another male fey who was fully capable of fighting back when my frustration manifested physically.
Nuala was a petite, mortal female, fragile and sensitive, who had every reason to be terrified of me.
Except she was not afraid. The pattering of the pulse in her throat was not a fearful reaction any more than the dilation of her pupils.
“What makes you think that I am any less comfortable becoming a monster?” Nuala asked with an arched brow.
“Rian, I am their High Priestess,” she insisted when I did not reply.
“Even if they cannot acknowledge it, that coven is my responsibility, and that means that it is my duty to be the one to tear them out. Root and stem.”
I stared at her as I realized that she was not at all like Aodhan who was often the victim of his own moods and would lash out on a whim. Nuala was much more like me in her temperament: methodical and intentional.
“Please, Rian,” she breathed, my name like a plea that made my flesh prickle with awareness. “I would not be able to bear it if even one Kelley witch survived me.”
I nodded, releasing her jaw and raising both her hands in mine to press gentle kisses to each of her knuckles until her tension was finally alleviated.
“Their lives are yours,” I promised, and she released a soft exhale of relief as she nodded.
“You understand?” she asked hopefully.
“I understand perfectly. Although I cannot say whether it will bring you any consolation,” I warned her.
“I am not sure that there is any consolation to be found for me after everything,” Nuala admitted with an attempt at a smile that did not reach her eyes.
Her desolation made me want to hold her against me so I could absorb some of her anguish. And it made me want to set her world on fire in the hope it might appease her appetite for righteous vengeance.
“You will see your enemies tremble before your wrath, and then we will find your peace,” I promised her.
Even if I had to carve it from the scorched earth that we would leave in our wake.
It took me some time, but I eventually found my uncle at the river with one hand clenched over his chest. Like he was applying pressure to a bleeding wound.
He did not turn, but I could see his eyes were red and swollen, his anguish palpable as he stared across the river toward the Raveina Mountains in the distance. I had to force my feet to carry me the remaining distance to his side when my guilt threatened to suffocate me.
“Are you alright?” he asked before I could even begin to apologize. “Ciaran said they… put Light magic inside of you to burn your shadows away,” he said haltingly.
I wanted to address the loss of his son, but I knew my uncle well enough to know that he would not entertain any other conversation until he knew that I was alright.
“I feel empty. I will replenish myself, but it actually feels rather… peaceful.”
Carrick gave an intrigued grunt and nodded, his eyes never straying from those peaks where his people were.
“Perhaps now is the best time to work through all your losses while you can do so safely,” he suggested with a forced optimism, but I merely grunted. There was no need for me to go into all of that with him right now.
“Carrick—” I began, my voice an emotional croak.
“This was not your fault,” he interrupted firmly.
“But he was my responsibility—”
“Rian,” he said even more sternly before he breathed in deeply and closed his eyes as if he’d regretted his tone.
“Ciaran told me what happened. I know there was nothing you could have done. You fought hard, risked your life, and we almost lost you too. I know that you feel like your shoulders should bear every burden alone, but this was not your failing. And… I do not have the heart to argue the point until you believe me. So please, for my sake, could you accept my word for it this time?” he pleaded.
His voice had just enough of a hint of weary humour that I knew he was trying desperately to soften the impact of his words on me, but I was still shocked. It had never occurred to me that my penchant for self-deprecation might be taking that kind of a toll on my uncle.
“Alright. I am sorry if—”
“Do not apologize. You know that I am always happy to help you work through your feelings. Just…”
Just not today.
Determined to offer my uncle the same unconditional support that he always gave me, I repressed the part of me that craved his reassurance.
I stepped closer to him and pulled him into a hug with the same confidence that he typically used with me.
And to my relief, he let me, releasing a harsh breath and melting into my embrace for several moments.
Words of reassurance and promise were on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back in favour of comforting and listening to him instead.
“I cannot bear the thought of going home to tell Asha that our son is gone,” he eventually admitted.
“I will go to her with you,” I said in spite of the dread that always filled me at the prospect of being surrounded by our people. I hated the way they always looked at me with a mixture of admiration, expectation, and fear.
“If you can. And I think it would be good for Ornella to come home with me,” Carrick told me.
“No,” I said immediately, and he finally pulled away to look at me with watery green eyes. “Her place is here with the Wild Hunt. We need her to help get Sage back.”
“Are you sure he is alive?” he asked, looking reluctant to entertain hope as he released me and quickly swiped at the tears clinging to his lower lashes.
“They must have wanted him for something or they would have killed him outright in the Vale,” I told him.
I had to believe that.
“I just hope they are not… hurting him if that is indeed the case,” Carrick said haltingly and averted his eyes back toward those faraway mountains.
I quickly shut down the dark thoughts that tried to take root in my heart. It would not do me any good to dwell on such morbid possibilities when I needed to be focused on my next moves for getting Sage back.
“Alright. What do you need from me?” Carrick asked, raising his head determinedly.
“You need to be with your family—”
“I want to be here when you get him back,” my uncle asserted firmly.
“And you will be! But there is a lot of work to do—”
“Then I could be useful!” he tried to point out.
“You would be more useful to Asha, Shay, and Rory.”
Carrick looked reluctant, but eventually he nodded in agreement with me and turned his eyes back toward the peaks of the mountains behind me.
“Are you certain Ornella should stay here? She is more familiar with our family. She may be more comfortable with us than with you and… the other riders.”
He meant Ciaran. He did not have to say it aloud for me to understand his concerns, but he did not understand dryads the way I did.
“I am sure,” I insisted confidently. “I might not know Ornella personally, but I did know her brother, and I have experience with how their people deal with their grief. She is unlikely to welcome any comfort. She will struggle with how to deal with our pain on top of her own.”
Carrick seemed to consider my prediction a moment before he regained his conviction. Stubborn to the end.
“At least let me see her before I go. I want to ask her. Just to be sure,” he bargained.
“As long as I speak to her before you,” I maintained, and this time, he frowned at me. “Just trust me, Carrick, she will lash out if you go in there now, and then she will feel terrible guilt over her words.”
He was unconvinced, but I was determined to protect them both, so I held my ground with him. I was relieved when he finally conceded and gave a reluctant nod.
“If you think that is necessary.”
“I do,” I advised him. No one understood the volatile moods of dryads better than I did.
Once I finished speaking to my uncle, I spent the rest of the morning with Ciaran and our best scouts.
We pored over every map we had of the Vale to devise a plan to try and help the Spring fey reach our undercover agents who would help conceal them.
After so many decades of using guerrilla warfare tactics against the griffins, we’d become quite good at moving undetected through their kingdom.
And I hoped that expertise would pay off now.
When we were done strategizing, I left Ciaran behind to organize everything and returned to my tent to check on Nuala. My Seer had spent the morning looking into the flames at my request in the hopes of giving us a direction. We needed to know which enemy to deal with first.