Unbound (25 page)

Eventually,
he shifted and sighed. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning for London.”

Letting
go, he stepped back and looked out over the loch.

“Okay,”
I wrapped my arms around myself and looked with him. They grey surface was a perfect
reflection of the stormy-looking sky.

Bending
down, he picked up a small stone, tested its weight in his hand and then pulled
his arm back. I watched the stone skip once, twice, three times before sinking
quickly.
 
I searched the ground,
looking for a stone the right shape and size. Finding it, I stood and with a
snap of my wrist sent it skidding lightly over the surface of the loch. I
counted five bounces before it plunged heavily into the dark water.
Triumphantly, I smiled at Eaden and held up five fingers.

“Lucky
shot,” he said.

“Luck
has nothing to do with it,” I assured him.

Within
a few seconds we had found two more stones of the right heft. Counting together
we launched them simultaneously and watched as they skipped over the waves side
by side. Laughing as my rock bounced one final bounce after his, I scrambled to
find a few more. We skipped stones until my shoulder ached and even then I was
reluctant to stop, pleased to have found at least one activity where I could
hold my own. Pleased to simply be with him; for a short time able to forget
what was behind us, and what was to come.

We
walked slowly back up to Nanog, hand in hand.

“I
like Stuart,” I said.

He
eyed me sardonically. “He’s hard not to like. But the boy is trouble.”

Boy?
He was 65. “Really?” I laughed, “He
seems rather…hapless.” Like a big friendly dog, Stuart seemed eager and
guileless.

“Oh,
he might be that, too. But trouble just as surely.” Despite his stern words,
there was nothing but fondness in his tone. “I’ve had little peace since he was
assigned to me.” Something mournful swept across his features, however briefly.
“I’d thought he’d be passed along to another, but…” Eaden cleared his throat.
“I’m glad to still have his training.”

The
silence stretched as I realized that Eaden’s feelings for me had changed more
than my own life.

“Do
you know what would be perfect right now?” I asked.

“I
could think of several things,” he said. The twinkle was back in his grey eyes.

“Hot
chocolate,” I said, blithely ignoring the bait. I had no intention of living in
a constant state of sexual frustration. The next time we found ourselves so
entwined, I intended to make sure we finished what we started.

“As
you wish, my lady.” He made a formal leg before opening the heavy door that led
into the hall.

Playing
the part of the princess, I turned my nose up and haughtily stepped inside,
only to come face to face with a tall blonde haired Sister who waited patiently
for us in the front lobby.

She
smiled prettily at him. “Amerlyn sent me. He’d like to speak with you
immediately.”

Eaden
sighed and turned to me, resigned.

“I
know, I know. I’ll see you later.” I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear.
“Bring hot chocolate.”

Grinning,
he nodded and strode off in search of Amerlyn.

Ignoring
the openly curious stare of the blonde sister with the amber-coloured eyes, I
climbed the stairs slowly, not in any great hurry to return to my room alone.

Seeing
the door ajar, my heart fluttered for a moment as my vision clouded with déjà
vu. Pushing open the door, it sped up in earnest as I recognized the person who
stood by my window.

“Hello,
Sannah.”

“Rachel.”
It was not a friendly tone. Her red hair was tied neatly back and she was
dressed more casually than I’d seen before this. She seemed younger in the
small room, without the formal trappings of her position. Beautiful and
self-possessed, but only a woman, after all.

The
green-eyed monster twitched its tail and growled as she walked past me to perch
on the edge of my bed.
Our
bed, I
thought fiercely.

She
eyed me thoughtfully. “He loves you, you know.”

I
guessed that we weren’t going to mess around with social niceties. Good. As
long as I knew the rules, I could play the game.

“Yes,”
I agreed, moving over to sink into the armchair across from her, “he does.” I
would not dissemble in front of her.

“I
wonder if you know what that means,” she said. She peered at me. “You seem
bright enough.”

I
sighed, no longer in the mood for a duel. At any rate, I was pretty sure she
would win. “I’m eighteen years old, Sannah. I’m not a witch or a priestess
– just a girl who’s had a rather unusual week. I won’t pretend I
understand half of what I’ve seen since I left home. Why don’t you just tell me
what it means?”

To
my surprise, her answering smile was not entirely lacking in warmth. “Fair
enough,” she said. “But remember that you asked.”

She
was silent for a few moments, her eyes resting on her elegant hands, which lay
neatly folded in her lap. When she looked back up, I saw the softness that had
been visible, if fleeting, yesterday when we’d arrived. “Eaden is the best of
men – loyal, courageous, honourable.” Her soft expression faltered, her
bitterness undisguised. “But he is still only a man, Rachel. And men are fools
in love. Even you must see how he tortures himself with self-reproach for
revealing himself to you. He is sickened that he placed his needs above
yours…and yet,” she whispered, “he can’t seem to help himself.”

Sannah’s
soft words stabbed sharper than any barb she might have hurled at me. Mostly,
because I knew them for truth. I’d seen what it did to Eaden to love me,
against his better judgement, to try to find some of his own happiness after
denying himself for so long. “I know.”

Her
eyes hardened slightly at my admission. “For him to request the help of the
Sisters of Cailleach, to bring you here, to risk the lives of those who
accompany you...” She shook her head. “It is unlike him. He is not a selfish
man, but like all men, he is capable of acting selfishly. There will be a price
to pay.” She looked directly at me, her gaze unwavering. “If things do not go
well, mark my words, it will destroy him.”

Angry
now, my words were sharp. “I don’t see what other choice we have. Maybe you
have no investment in the world as it is, but I do. There are people I love, mortals
I love, who stand to lose everything if I am given to Amun. I won’t stand by
and watch the world I know be changed beyond recognition.” My voice surged with
conviction, with confidence.

“Oh
dear.” She pressed slim fingers against her lips, shook her head lightly, eyes
muted with pity. “Of course I want to protect the world, Rachel. The same as
you do. Don’t you see? The surest way, the safest way to do that does not
require anyone you or I love to be placed in jeopardy. Not my Sisters, not
Amerlyn, and most importantly to us both, not Eaden.”

Whatever
I had been about to say crumbled in my mouth like dust.

“Eaden
will betray everything he has stood for, everything he believes in, to save
you. If you really love him, as much as he loves you, you will spare him that
agony.” She stood and walked towards the door. Looking back at me, her eyes
were kind. “You are only a brief moment in time in his very long existence. He
will survive the loss of you.”

She
left, gliding quietly out the door and pulling it gently closed behind her.

Staring
blankly at the back of the door, I pulled my knees up to chest and wrapped my arms
around them. With long deep breaths I tried to quell the nausea that had
erupted as surely as the despair that filled me.
 
Rocking slightly, I struggled to tear
apart Sannah’s words, to poke a gaping hole through them, all the while knowing
it was hopeless.

God
help me, she was right, though she hadn’t said the words out loud. Eaden was
fighting to keep me alive, when my death, my utter destruction was the surest
solution to our problem. And I would let him; I wanted him to. Because I didn’t
want to die.

My
tears spilled down my cheeks onto my knees, a dark patch widening into a puddle
on my jeans, my father’s words echoing in my head from a day long ago when I’d
sat at the kitchen table, staring down at the pale yellow exercise book,
picking idly at a metallic star sticker. With perfect penmanship, my teacher
had written “Great Work” at the top of the page, followed by several
exclamation points.

My
chest hurting, I’d put my head down on the table, folding my arms over top of
me. Maybe I was too sick to go to school tomorrow. The table smelt like lemon
furniture polish.

I
heard the chair beside me softly scrape back along the floor and then my
father’s voice. “Having a rough time, Rabbit?” He placed a gentle hand on my
head and let it rest there. “Can I help?”

The
tears that I had been holding back leaked out of the corners of my eyes. I
shook my head imperceptibly. “No.”

He
waited. I could hear the ticking of the stove timer and smell the freshly mown
grass through the open window.

Raising
my head, I wiped a hand across my runny nose and stared mournfully at him. My
father’s eyes were gentle.

Taking
a deep breath, I blurted it out. “Mrs. Woolsey said I had to read my story out
loud tomorrow...to the whole class!”

He
nodded seriously, considering this. It was only the second week of fifth grade.
No way Mrs. Woolsey could have known that public speaking ranked above liver
and onions and vaccinations on the list of things I hated most.

“Did
you tell her that this is hard for you?”

I
sniffled. “I tried, but she didn’t listen.”

“I
see. What are you going to do?”

“I
don’t know!” I wailed. My tears flowed in earnest now.

My
father rubbed my arm. “Shhhh, Rabbit. Tell me what you’re worried about.”

I
glared at him, eyes narrowing. “You know.”

Last
year, my first public-speaking assignment had left me a stuttering, stammering
mess. There was also vomit. A lot of it.

“So
you’re worried that will happen again?”

“Yes.”

“That’s
a big worry,” he agreed. We sat silently together for a time.

“I
wish I were brave,” I mumbled.

My
father smiled. “I think you are.”

I
shook my head stubbornly. “That’s because you’re my dad.”

“Do
you remember Atticus Finch?”

I
stared sullenly, not entirely willing to be mollified so easily. “Scout’s dad.”

“Yes.
I’ll never forget what Atticus said about being brave. He said that real
courage is knowing that you’re licked before you start, and starting anyway.”

We
had read
To Kill a Mockingbird
together over the summer. I had wanted to be just like Scout. And I thought my
dad was like Atticus.

“Rabbit,”
he said, “being brave is about being scared and still trying. Don’t you see?
That’s you.”

“I
wish I were brave,” I whispered to the empty room at
Tír na nÓg
. The truth was, I wanted to live. More than that, I
wanted a life with Eaden. And I would try, even knowing that we were licked.
But if it wasn’t possible to have that, then what I wanted was for Eaden to be
okay. The truth of Sannah’s words cut deeply. Eaden would not be okay if saving
my life meant the destruction of all others. Was I brave enough to face that?

Hearing
the door, I lifted my head quickly and tried to brush the tears away.

Too
late.

Deep
concern lining his brow, he moved swiftly to crouch in front of me. His hand
brushed the curtain of long hair back from my face. “
Mo cridhe
, what is it, what’s wrong?”

I
shook my head, tried to smile, but traitorous tears continued to roll down my
face. “Nothing, I’m okay.”

His
grey eyes filled with tenderness.
 
“You’re not okay. Tell me what happened.” He looked around the room searching
for some clue to my distress.

“No,
I’m fine.” I struggled to stop my tears, to push down the hopelessness that had
settled on me like a blanket. Feeling foolish, I realized that Sannah had
pointed out what must have been obvious to everyone else. I’d been considering
only two outcomes if we left the decision to the Council. We would convince
them not to use me to breed more
Mafte’ach
or we would not. The third option, the one Sannah had so skilfully presented,
removed not only this uncertainty, but the risk to all others, both mortal and
immortal. It would also end my life.

“Rachel,
please, tell me what’s wrong.” He was pleading now, his eyes searching mine to
gain some understanding, his hands gripping my arms. My tears came in earnest
then, because I did want to tell him. I wanted him to make this all better, to
convince me that Sannah was wrong, that this would work out, that we really did
have all the time in the world to love each other. I wanted Eaden to be my
knight, my saviour, my angel. Which wasn’t fair at all, because Eaden was
immortal, but he wasn’t omnipotent.

“Please.”
His voice was strained. “I can’t bear to see you like this.”

And
I could see that this was true. My pain wounded him, adding insult to injury in
a life filled with sacrifice. It was what I needed. Steeling myself, I took a
long, shuddering breath and wiped away my tears. If I wasn’t yet strong enough
for anyone else, I could at least be strong enough for Eaden. I could hope for
the chance to live the happy life I’d only begun to imagine, and if that wasn’t
possible, I would make the right decision, even if he couldn’t. Tucking this
thought safely away from him, I took the easiest path I could find. “I miss my
friends, Eaden, I miss my Mom.”

 
This was not really a lie. Unexpectedly,
I did miss my mother right now. She knew something of loss. Of injustice.
Suddenly, I longed to have her hold me as she might once have, if her own grief
hadn’t destroyed the best part of her. If she’d been allowed to keep the men
she’d loved.

Sympathy
washed away the concern that was etched into his expression and relief pulsed
steadily through his eyes with the realization that this was only the
homesickness of a naïve young woman, far away from all that was familiar to
her.
 
“Of course you do.” He gently
kissed my fingers. “Forgive me, Rachel, I forget how strange this all must be
for you.” He tilted his head. “Does it help to know that I asked Mara to listen
in on them? Everyone is okay.”

I
sat up quickly. “She can do that?” I had no idea her power was so precise.

“She
can listen to anyone in the world, as long as she knows who they are.” He
grinned suddenly. “She got a real kick out of Lacey, by the way. Something
about karaoke...”

“Sounds
like Lacey.” I took a deep breath. “Is my mom okay?”

Eaden
patted my knee reassuringly. “Your mother and your grandmother are fine. A bit
worried, but they’re both doing well.”

He
looked like he was about to say something else, but then stopped.

“What?”
My heart, ever eager to race, sped up for a few beats in anticipation of bad
news.

He
looked irritated. “It’s getting harder and harder to keep things from you.”

“Eaden!”

“It’s
good news,” he reassured me. “I just wasn’t sure if it would make you more
homesick.”

I
gestured impatiently.

He
smiled. “Jane had a baby boy.”

My
hand flew up to my mouth.
A baby boy
!
I burst into tears again.

Looking
panicked, Eaden swore grimly in Gaelic. “I’m sorry, I thought –”

“It’s
okay,” I interrupted him. “These are happy tears.”

“Really?”
He looked exasperated. “How might one tell?”

Unravelling
myself from the chair, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed tightly.

“Thank
you.”

Pulling
me all the way to my feet, he hugged me back. “You are most welcome,
mo cridhe
. I would reach up and pull the
moon down if I thought it would make you smile.”

My
stomach flipped at his words. Yes, that was the problem.

He
pulled back to look at me. “A few of the Sisters have congregated downstairs.
They’ve asked for the pleasure of your company. Are you feeling up to it?”

I
eyed him doubtfully. “My company? You mean they want to see you.”

“No,”
he laughed, “It’s you they want. You’re quite an enigma for them, Rachel. I’m
not sure you realize how rarely mortals visit Nanog.”

Despite
his assurances, I suspected that the Sisters were far more curious about me
because
of him. Now that I understood
more of his history with Sannah, the cynical part of me wondered if they were
simply trying to understand what on earth had attracted him to me in the first
place. I couldn’t really blame them.

I
nodded. “I think I can handle a little more interrogation today.”

After
I splashed water on my face, we headed downstairs hand-in-hand to join the
Sisters in the Great Hall. The room had been hastily re-arranged, the big stone
table now pushed over to one side and two long benches pulled up around it to
allow for conversation. A few more chairs and pillows had been placed in front
of the hearth, which now held a roaring fire. The result was a much more
intimate ambience than I’d experienced this morning.
 
The Sisters were sprawled throughout the
room, laughing and chatting, nothing in their appearances marking them as
extraordinary beyond the intensely vivid eyes they all shared.

Spotting
Mara and Elora talking quietly beside the fire, I thought to head in that
direction and then stopped, something in Mara’s posture alerting me that
company was not what they needed at this moment. She leaned forward with
intense concentration as Elora spoke, her brilliant violet gaze fixed steadily
on the young women across from her, a small subtle smile playing around the
corners of her mouth. As I watched, she laughed at something Elora said and
then reached up to tuck her jet black hair behind her ear, looking slyly down
and then back up. I knew flirting when I saw it.

Following
the direction of my gaze, Eaden glanced at the two women seated close to the
fire. His eyes lit up with something akin to delight and he smiled knowingly at
me. “Perhaps we’ll speak to Mara a little later.”

Instead,
Eaden led me towards the table where more Sisters sat chatting amiably
together. Stuart’s red hair like a beacon, I was filled pleasure for my new
friend when I noticed that Sita sat close beside him. She looked up as we
approached and waved us over to sit with them.

 
“Eaden, Rachel! I’m so glad you joined
us. Isn’t this wonderful?” She beamed as she looked around the room. “Stuart
suggested we throw a bon voyage party for ourselves.” Her lilting Hindi accent
made her words more like a song than a statement.

“Yes,
how very clever of you, Stuart,” Eaden raised an eyebrow, acknowledging his
young pupil wryly.

“Sit
down, Rachel, please.” Sita gestured to an empty spot beside her. “I’ll be
right back.”

As
Eaden and I sat on the long wooden bench opposite Stuart, one of the Sisters I
hadn’t met yet smiled in welcome and passed us each an empty mug. Sita returned
a moment later with a jug to pour dark brown liquid into our mugs.

Raising
a questioning eyebrow at Stuart, I stared uncertainly at the sluggish brown
froth in front of me, no idea what it was.

“Guinness,”
he supplied happily and took a long pull from his mug. Wiping the foam from his
upper lip with his sleeve, he grinned wickedly. “It’ll put hair on your chest.”
All of a sudden it was not so hard to picture him as the trouble-making young
man Eaden had alluded to.

Smelling
the yeasty brown liquid first, I took a quick sip and swallowed, hoping not to
embarrass myself with any choking or spluttering. Although very strong, it was
reminiscent of one of the
coffee-chocolate
combinations I drank from Starbucks, and I managed to get my first mouthful
down easily.

Chatting easily, the four of us quickly polished off
the first pitcher and were well into our second before I realized how relaxed I
felt. Not entirely due to the Guinness. Looking around the room of women from
under my eyelashes, I noted that although every so often one or two of the
Sisters would glance curiously in my direction, they did seem truly accepting
of my presence.