By the Light of the Moon (34 page)

“So you stopped them when they wanted to do it to me?” Moira continued and her mother nodded.

“I tried. I didn’t get there in time. They’d taken you when I tried to bring you Lakeside, away from all of it. I got you back, but I couldn’t take you along. You were so little, and afraid and we had to hide all the time. And all the while, I didn’t know if they had broken you like they had Iris; I was afraid to find out, I think.” Maeve looked down at the floor and rubbed her feet on the ground. “I thought it would be safer here, it’s … not hard to deceive humans. Rochmond took you, I thought here at least you’d have education and … and you wouldn’t have to be some drunk farmer’s wife by the age of fourteen. I tried. I promise … ”

Moira swallowed. She breathed in deeply through her nose. A shiver went through her body and she wanted to sit down, wanted to curl herself into bed and be alone. It was too much to think about all at once, so many thoughts and feelings. She sniffed then and opened her mouth just as a first tear rolled down her cheek.

“I … ” she started but then flinched when the door opened again and Owain came in, looking harried but giving them both a little smile.

“We have to hurry; there’s a change of guards at four. We should be out before then, because they’ll check the cells.” He walked over to Moira, aware that he had walked in on an emotional moment. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair.

“Here, I found you a pack. I also went down to the armory and got us overnight bags. They are for soldiers but we’ll be fine, something to sleep in if we have to hide in the wild.” He nuzzled her head a moment longer and then his eyes fell on her lyre. A sad smile washed over his face but he didn’t say anything.

“Let me take the heavy things into my pack. There’s some room in there left.”

Exhaling again, Moira smiled up at Owain, when the tension melted away from her body at his touch and the gentle sound of his voice. Even if they weren’t forced to leave, she knew the decision would have been an easy one; to stay with the one person who made her feel normal, who made her feel human and good.

“I’m going to take Moira with me on the horse,” Maeve explained for Owain’s benefit. “I can make her look like Iris for a few minutes, I still have enough power; it won’t arouse suspicion. We’d been sent here to retrieve something and we have, a very simple story. As for you … ”

“I can find my own way out,” Owain assured her. Moira noticed that his voice sounded different when he was talking to the woman who was her mother. The trust and the warmth wasn’t there. It wasn’t fair, she knew but it made her feel good that that special tone was hers alone.

“You can go through the kitchens,” Moira told him with a crooked smile. “I used to go through there.”

“And get us some food for the way,” he smiled back with a nod. “I’ll be right behind you, I promise. I’ll meet you at the edge of the forest. We shouldn’t be seen in the village, none of us.”

Nodding, Moira continued to pack clothes and other items into her pack. She wrapped the lyre into its leather case and it only just fit when she let its neck show, sticking out at the top. It didn’t seem to matter. Not then.

“Do you have a warm coat?” Owain asked, looking down at her in a dress he knew wouldn’t be warm enough for a human and Moira nodded with a wry smile, indicating a beautiful fur-lined one hanging by the door. She knew it made her look too fine, but for the moment, she knew she needed it outside.

“Are we ready?” Maeve asked, nervously looking out at the window. Throwing his pack onto his back, Owain nodded.

“Keep her safe,” he said quietly and even Moira could hear the hint of warning in his voice. Maeve did too. She nodded with a wry smile and placed her hand on Moira’s face. It glowed and the next moment, Owain jumped a little, staring.

Moira looked down at her aged hands and took a deep breath herself. When she looked up again, her mother was gone and in her place stood a strapping soldier wearing Fairester’s colors. Owain smiled wryly, as though seeing an old acquaintance, and then turned back to Moira.

He cupped her shoulders in his hands and breathed her in deeply before he let his lips descend on hers.

“I’ll be right with you.”

“I know. Be safe.”

“And you.” Leaning his forehead against hers, he made himself smile, kissed her nose and pushed himself away. He would have to trust them and just keep himself safe for the moment.

Much like Maeve had predicted, it was easy to get past the guards. They offered a hint of friendly banter, wished them all a good journey back to the capital and a healthy stomach on the ship. Moira, not quite trusting the disguise, didn’t say anything. She made herself look tired and offered a little smile and a wave when they crossed the drawbridge on Maeve’s stolen horse.

She only realized she was shaking when Maeve leaned back against her and commented on it.

“It’s all right, we’re safe now. We’re out. We locked your door, and they won’t come looking for you for hours.”

Moira nodded, exhaling her warm breath into the freezing air. She had always loved snow, but her heart couldn’t quite appreciate it that day, with no idea where they would spend the next night or how her life would be. Owain would be there. That was all she knew, and it made her smile, made her shaking body calm a little.

“Days probably,” Moira admitted a little embarrassed. “I … I sometimes lock … used to lock myself in my room for a long time. Father … Lord Rochmond, made them break the door in once or twice to try and console me or … to check if I was still alive. I don’t know. It could be a while, maybe.”

Maeve nodded but didn’t comment and Moira felt the wind harsher on her flushed and heated cheeks.

“I … sometimes I wondered about you. What your life was like, if you had other children. If I looked like you or … whether you were like me, a little bit, I don’t know. Never thought you were … ”

“Fae?” Maeve asked with a smile, speaking loud enough to sound over the muffled hoof beats on the snow. She was concentrating on getting them down the slippery serpentines of the rock and even Moira jumped a little now and again when the horse’s hoofs slipped a few feet.

“Yes, Fae.” Moira affirmed more quietly and shrugged. “Iris doesn’t like me very much, does she?”

“Iris … ” Maeve started and then stopped, navigating another dangerous slope before she continued. “Iris has a hard time liking anyone,” she said sadly and Moira didn’t know what to say. Maybe they were a lot more alike than she thought, maybe in forty years, it would be her who was old and bitter and alone. In that moment she ached for Owain more than she ever had, even in those endless days after he’d left her bed.

“I know I didn’t save you from all of it,” Maeve finally continued when they were on even ground and the horse was having an easier timing finding its way along the dark path, snow swirling all around them. “But … When I see you with Owain, I feel happy.”

For a long moment neither of them said a word but Moira felt it too, deep inside of her, that glowing warmth and she almost turned around to look for him in the darkness.

“He is … he is good,” she finally said, feeling a little sheepish. “Brock said … is it true that Fae … that they dislike what he is?”

Maeve exhaled a throaty almost chuckle. She made a clicking sound with her tongue and gently led the horse onto the path that led to the forest, away from Lake Coru and the village.

“You have to understand that we live a long time. Some say forever. It becomes meaningless at some stage. For you, the wars are something you hear about in stories. Something that happened generations ago. For us, we were there. Most of us, anyway. It’s harder to forgive for us.”

“For you, too?”

“Not in the same way,” Maeve said and her voice sounded ancient then. When Moira closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she was on this horse behind her mother and a tiny glimmer of warmth started to glow in an empty, cold, and hurting place.

“Not all of us wanted to go to war with humans. Not all of us wanted to create a race of soldiers to fight our wars. I don’t think we should keep the blood ourselves and I definitely don’t think that someone like Owain is to be blame for what his ancestors did. But then … you heard Brock. I’m an anarchist.”

Maeve chuckled without much humor in her voice but there was a sense of pride and hurt. Moira wondered what her life had been like, always on the run, having two daughters but nobody to be with all the time, nobody who shared her life.

“You said … the rest of you … of the Fae, they wouldn’t be happy about what Brock is doing?” Moira asked finally, quite unable still to express her feelings toward the stranger who was her mother in any other way than to continue to talk to her.

“Well,” she answered, seemingly content to be answering questions. “Surely, there are those who think he has the right ideas about Lakeside. But there are enough of us who disagree. Some just want to keep the peace, others disagree more openly.”

Moira had a vague feeling where they were going despite the dark. Maeve was glowing a little; at first it had been disconcerting but now there was something comforting about the light and the warmth in it. Still, she could sense the forest was getting closer.

“But Fae are very different from humans. Most of us don’t fight amongst each other. Brock would never have attacked me, nor I him. We talk and negotiate however long it takes, but we don’t fight. We don’t hurt or kill one another. Decisions, if made at all, take a long time. Too long, for some of us.”

“What would happen to you if they caught you?” Moira asked, confused for a moment.

“I would be given a chance to bow to the laws that govern our lives and bring you in myself. Failing to do so, I would be put under arrest and I wouldn’t fight it. I would stay under arrest until they talked and coerced me into agreeing. It’s a consequence of the magical connection. It is hard to stand up against a larger number of us when you are alone. Everything inside of you seeks that … perfection, that unity, the harmony.”

Maeve’s voice faltered and she fell silent. The snow stung Moira’s cheeks and she felt sad and shaky again.

“Sounds like … like you’re lonely.” It just bubbled out of Moira, who immediately flushed, wondering if she had crossed a line that hadn’t been hers to cross. When Maeve didn’t answer for a long time, she felt sure of it, swallowing hard and trying not to think of the fact that she was sitting so close to her, that every movement of the horse was brushing their bodies against each other.

“I’m sorry … ” she tried, but Maeve shook her head, uttering a short dismissive sound.

“Some things are more important,” she said quietly, “You’ll see. You’re leaving your life for him, aren’t you? I know that Brock offered you a chance.”

This time, it was Moira’s turn to sink into silence, thinking about the truth in that statement. Without Owain, she would have accepted Fairester, would have accepted Brock’s offer, too. Without Owain, she wouldn’t have known there was any other choice to make.

“You loved someone,” she said quietly and Maeve offered only a quiet hum in return. The feeling of the forest was stronger now and the next moment, the snow stopped falling so heavily as they rode under a canopy of trees. Maeve seemed to know where to go even though Moira kept turning around, looking for Owain.

“He is over there,” Maeve finally said, pointing forward. Moira stretched herself to look over her mother’s shoulder and there did seem to be a small light in the distance. She didn’t realize she exhaled a sigh of relief until Maeve chuckled.

• • •

The light turned out to be a very small fire. Owain was standing at the edge of the illuminated area. His face, too, showed obvious relief when he came closer and offered his hands to lift Moira off the horse. He gave her a strange smile and then looked up at Maeve who was finding her own rather more graceful way off the animal.

“Can I have my girl back now?” he asked, a careful smile on his face.

Moira looked down at her still-wrinkled hands and brought them to her face. It wasn’t hers and she remembered with a sheepish look. His girl. She was his Momo and she understood now, she understood that she’d had a choice and she had made it.

“Come here, child,” Maeve replied and gently placed her glowing palm on Moira’s face again until Moira could feel that golden light spread through her veins, warm and tingling and powerful. When she opened her eyes again, a little short of breath, she beamed at the man who pulled her into his arms and led them toward the fire.

“How long have you been here?” Moira asked, seeing the low soldier’s tent on the ground and the fire burning merrily.

“Blaidyn are fast,” Maeve remarked, eying the man. She had gone out to try and find someone who would protect her daughter; but her daughter had found him all by herself.

“Not so long,” he assured them both, pulling Moira onto a log next to him and wrapping his arms around her. They were both wet and smelled like snow but the fire felt good on her frozen hands.

“I thought you could catch a few hours of sleep before we head out in the morning.” Owain said, seeing her look at the tent. He knew she wasn’t used to sleeping anywhere but a richly stuffed bed and there was a hint of shame in offering the old sleeping place of a soldier. But it was almost washed away when she smiled at him, wide and sweet and he pressed his lips against her hair and her scalp and breathed her in. She was his beautiful girl and he would keep her safe, would keep her warm; even in an old grimy tent if he had to.

“Where will we go?” Moira asked then, looking from Owain to her mother. Both of them eyed her as though the answer was hers, but Maeve just raised her brows and carefully plucked a snowflake from her hair, watching it melt on her fingers.

“You will go where it is safe for you to go. Stay outside larger cities for a while, until some grass has grown over everything.”

“Aren’t you … coming with us?” Moira couldn’t help but utter, once again feeling foolish. She still didn’t know how she felt about her mother but she thought she had much to learn from her. And about her.