On Fallen Wings (31 page)

Cael shoved the sword into his pouch and stared at the mountain. He opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but closed it and shook his head. He stomped past Leila and me, toward the trail to Nia’s home.

“I’m sorry, Cael,” I said, calling out to him.

He gave a dismissive wave and continued walking.

“What’s going on, Rhiannon?” asked Leila. “Why did you let that man escape? You said he was the bandit.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” I stared at the empty road for a moment and then turned to her. “Is that so wrong?”

“No,” said Leila, shaking her head. “I suppose not. How did you know it was him?”

Then, as she spoke, Cael stopped walking, and turned to face us. His face was flushed. “I have something for you,” he said. “When you didn’t come to visit, I decided to see if you were still committed to helping me.”

“You were sneaking off to see Cael,” said Leila. “I knew it.”

“Okay,” I said, annoyed at the sudden revelation of my plot. “Go home, Leila. Go tell Mother how smart you are.”

Leila scoffed at me and stomped her foot.

“Hey, Rhiannon, you don’t have to be mean.” Cael walked back to us and patted Leila on the head. “Are you trying to insult the entire village?” He lowered his hand, revealing a bloody palm. “Or tear us apart?”

“Cael, she doesn’t need to be here,” I said, aiming a request with my eyes. I ignored his retort. I didn’t want him to tell her what I had agreed to do.

“Your sister has been helping me,” he said to Leila. He turned her by her shoulders and faced away, allowing me to see her face.

Leila smirked, mocking me over his shoulder.

My heart began to pound. This was a risky game Cael was playing. I didn’t like it, but followed his lead. “And why wouldn’t I help my future brother?” I wasn’t sure of what Cael intended.

Leila stopped making faces at me and stared at him. “What is she helping you with?” she asked.

Cael reached inside his coat and produced a velvet pouch tied with a small leather chord. He dangled it in the air. “I was injured,” he said, “and Rhiannon helped to heal me.” He motioned to his face with his other hand. “Her soft fingers carry the gift of the Fae. And for her kindness, I have a gift for her.”

“Oh,” said Leila, smirking. “I knew that.”

I sighed, relieved that he hadn’t revealed our plan. I didn’t care what he had in the pouch. “Okay, thank you, Cael,” I said, offering my hand. “Leila, you can leave now.”

“What’s inside?” she said, snatching the sack from my hand.

“No!” In a flash of red, Cael snatched the pouch from her. He placed it gently in my hand—it was heavy. “This is a gift for your sister,” he said to Leila. “She can’t show it to anyone else.” He pointed to his ear—it was still bleeding—and turned to face me completely. “You’re dangerous,” he told me, “and I might scar for the pain you’ve caused.”

“But Cael, I—”

Cael shook his head and pressed a finger to my mouth. “This is something that you wanted.” He turned back to Leila and kissed her forehead. Then he walked down the twisting trail toward Nia’s home. Before he reached the nearest turn, he yelled back to us, “I leave my destiny in your hands, Rhiannon.”

I bounced the heavy pouch up and down and rubbed its soft velvet with my fingers while watching him leave. When he disappeared behind the barren trees, I turned back toward the field.

“What’s in there?” asked Leila, reaching her hand out, as if expecting me to offer my gift to her.

“I don’t know.” I tucked it into the safety of my cloak pocket. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Yes, you do,” said Leila, prodding my ribs. “He said it was something you wanted. What did you want from him?”

“I didn’t want anything!” I said, snapping back at her. “Will you please leave me alone?”

I didn’t mean to yell, but Leila had pushed me to the limit of my patience. If she hadn’t followed me, I wouldn’t have seen Darian, I wouldn’t have chased him, and I wouldn’t have endured the painful mocking of Cael—and his pretend gift. I hated it already. If my plan had worked, I would have met Cael and arranged to get the ruby key. Then I could go retrieve the scrolls and save Sean.

The more I walked, the longer my festering thoughts had a chance to build their annoyance. By the time we reached the fence, I was glaring at my sister, although she walked behind me, and I dared her to say one more thing to bother me. I wanted a reason to yell again.

“And one more thing,” I said, neglecting the lack of a reason. “Don’t tell anyone what happened today.”

Leila was crying, but I didn’t care. All the fear, pain, and the stress of the past weeks were molding me into someone I didn’t recognize.

I jabbed a pointed finger at the space between us. “Because if you do, I’ll tell Mother about your secret meetings with Michael. That will end your curious wanderings. You can grow up alone, without a boyfriend.”

Now furious, I climbed between the rails of the fence. Without another word, I leapt onto Maeia’s back and made her gallop back to the stable. Out of habit, not wanting, I removed the saddle and harness, replaced them in the stable, and collected a buck of fresh water from the well. While Maeia drank heartily, I sat on a pile of hay and pulled the velvet pouch from the pocket in my cloak. I loosened the leather strap and emptied its contents onto my open palm.

The Aspen Grove

My life spun in wide circles as I stared at the ruby star in my hand. Cael had given me the altar key. Until this moment, my decision to surrender the scrolls in exchange for Sean had felt like a dream, like something from an ancient story. Now a wave of reality rushed over me, forcing the air from my lungs.

How had he done this?
I was certain that Gaelle wouldn’t give him the key voluntarily—she wasn’t allowed to part with it. Still, Cael had fulfilled my need, and I was certain that he expected me to keep my promise. His last words to me echoed in my head, leaving a ringing in my ears that refused to cease.

I glanced around the stable and quickly replaced the star inside its velvet purse. I tucked it deep into my cloak pocket and ran to the house. Expecting Mother to be at her usual spot, I hurried past the kitchen, but stopped short when I realized she wasn’t there.

“Mother?”

Unsure of where she was, I stepped softly while navigating the steep stairs to my bedroom. When I reached the top, I heard singing from the bathing room. Mother was inside. I dashed toward the safety of my bedroom.

“Rhiannon, are you there?”

I stopped at my door. “Yes, Mother.”

“How was your visit with Nia?”

I lied. “Pleasant.”

Mother leaned her head out of the doorway. Her hair was dripping onto a towel around her neck. “Did Leila find you? I hope she wasn’t a burden.”

My face burned but I hoped Mother wouldn’t notice in the dim light. I shifted my weight to the opposite foot. Leila had known all along.
What did Mother know?

“She wasn’t a bother,” I replied. “Nia and Thomas are looking for a home.” I was hoping that much information would provide a cover for my story. “They’ll live in DarMattey once they’re married.”

“Near her sister?” Mother dried her hair with the towel.

“I—I’m not certain,” I answered. “Why don’t you finish in there? I want to change my clothes. We’ll talk after we’re both decent.”

“Okay, dear,” she said, ducking out of sight.

I rushed into my bedroom and closed my door lightly, hoping to avoid revealing my eagerness by slamming it shut. I looked out the window. Down at the field, Father and Ethan stood in front of the barn talking to Leila—who was perched on the back of Liam, waving her hands with excitement.

“The little beast,” I muttered, suspecting that she hadn’t feared my warning. I turned back to my bed and knelt down.

Every girl has a place in her room where her most cherished memories are stored. Mine was under my bed, behind a board I had loosened many years ago. In the tiny keep, I tucked the velvet bag next to a wrinkled piece of parchment—Sean’s attempt at a letter. I smiled with reflection and pulled the paper out to view. The ink was faded and scratched, and the symbols Sean had created were uneven and illegible, but I knew what they meant.

“It says, ‘our love follows fate’,” Sean had told me with pride, when presenting me the letter as a gift two years ago. He had never learned to write and, like most of the villagers in Aisling, he couldn’t read the symbols of the Fae. It had been a beautiful gesture, and the scribbles remained priceless, to me, for the memory they carried.

I opened my eyes and released myself from recollection. I folded the paper and tucked it safely back under my bed.

“I’ll bring you home, Sean,” I whispered, wiping my eyes. I replaced the board, pressing it firmly into place. “Tonight.”

“Rhiannon?” Mother entered my room.

“Yes?” I jumped at the surprise.

“Are you okay?”

I sniffled and answered. “I will be.” I hustled to my feet to give the illusion that everything was normal. As I saw Mother’s caring face, another impulse of emotion struck me. “I love you, Mother,” I said. I rushed to her arms and squeezed her tight.

“Let’s go downstairs and bake something.” Mother stroked my hair with her fingers. “It will help you to feel better.”

~ O ~

I spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening avoiding conversations with my family, despite Mother’s prodding while we worked in the kitchen. After all, what would I tell them? My stomach wrenched when my thoughts drifted to the horrible act I was planning. There was no escape; I couldn’t evade the demons inside me. I would either fail at living my promises, or die of despair.

It appeared that Leila hadn’t told Father what had happened earlier in the day. When the topic didn’t come up at dinner, and Ethan failed to reveal any hint of trouble, I relaxed my nerves and tried to enjoy the evening. I still wouldn’t talk to her, and Leila avoided looking at me altogether. If my family noticed, they didn’t say anything.

After cleanup, I excused myself and retreated to the comfort and solitude of my bedroom, where I stayed dressed while lying in bed. If Mother came to say goodnight, she would assume that I had cried myself to sleep, which, sadly, had become a habit of mine during Sean’s absence.

Falling asleep must have been easy, because I didn’t remember much of the night alone in the dark. When I awoke, I lay with my arm extended straight and hanging over my bed. My pillow was moist. I listened to the night, unable to focus in the dark. Father’s snoring rattled the hinges on my parents’ bedroom door across the hall.

I had never been a villain, nor did I pretend to be; however, I employed every method of stealth that I could imagine, while preparing for my exit. Unfortunately, each creaking board in my room made my heart pound louder, and every breath that I took echoed callously off the walls. Even my thoughts resounded in my head like thunder, causing me to wonder if I was speaking or just thinking too loud. I couldn’t escape the noise; it came from everywhere, including the pulse in my fingers. Fully prepared to begin my plot, I stood by my closed door and dared myself to twist the knob.

My body refused to cooperate. My arm wouldn’t reach out. My hand wouldn’t grasp the knob and open the door. I shook my head and took a bracing breath.
You can do this
, I told myself.
Do this for Sean.

I realized that, in my panicked haste, I had forgotten the ruby key. I scolded myself with thundering thoughts and crept back to my bed. As I knelt down to reach underneath, I felt the weight of my necklace tug on the back of my neck. It felt strangely heavy, as if warning me to stay. I felt inside my cache for the soft velvet pouch and pulled it out. I examined it with my hands to ensure that it held the altar key. Satisfied, I tucked it into the pocket of my cloak.

I gave my diamond charm a quick touch, silently begging Sean to give me courage. I didn’t wait for a response. I rushed back to my bedroom door, pulled it open with one strong swing, and waited in the darkness for my family to call out my name. They would force me to stop. I held my breath.

Father continued snoring.

I staged a few carefully placed steps into the hall and balanced on one foot, ready to rush back into my bedroom. I forced an exhale while my heart counted the moments in loud bangs against my chest.

Nothing.

Then I stepped as lightly as I could across the hall to the top of the stairs. There, I hugged the wall, placing my feet along the edges to avoid the center of the worn timber, and counted each step while scaling down. I couldn’t see, and was terrified—not of being caught—of falling down.

When I reached what I thought was the bottom, I took an extra step to be certain, and stumbled into the front door.
Someone’s certain to have heard me
, I thought. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable curses as my father awoke to the commotion.

Nothing.

As I shifted my stance, the fabric of my cloak crinkled and yelled, calling to my family to wake and discover my sneaking plight.
Why did my clothing have to be so loud?
Abandoning my feeble attempts to be stealthy, I ran down the hall and ducked around the corner, holding perfectly still for several moments while I strained my ears listening for any stirring from above.