Page 20

M cColl

I cut a piece of roast chicken and put it in my mouth. It tastes delicious. I only wish that my stomach wasn’t so tied in knots.

The only sounds around the table are of cutlery against crockery. Or of a glass being put down.

I know this stilted silence is all because of me.

It’s clear that Xander and Thesha – particularly his wife – do not trust me.

I suppose it was to be expected. I am a witch.

We are not welcomed outside of the Regana Mountains, just like we don’t welcome others.

I’m not sure why I expected it to be any different just because Kian and I have struck up an understanding… a friendship of sorts.

Kian has been decidedly quiet since returning from his conversation with Thesha and Xander. Since then, there have been quiet whispers between them. Kian is caught in between.

I swallow down the tender chicken, taking a sip of my water to clear my dry throat. It’s nerves.

“So…um…Maya…” I attempt a smile. “Do you think you’re having a boy or a girl?” I glance over at Orion, who keeps his eyes on his food.

“I have absolutely no idea.” She shakes her head, smiling wistfully. “It’s going to be a surprise. Orion and I don’t mind either way. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Orion makes a noise of agreement around his food.

We sit in silence for a while. I concentrate on my food, trying hard to enjoy it despite the growing tension.

I hate this.

“So, McColl,” Maya says, shifting in her chair and placing a protective hand over her swollen belly, “what is your favorite color?” She lifts her brows like she’s truly interested.

It’s the second or third such question she’s asked me. I know she’s trying to make conversation, just like I am, too. I’m grateful and throw her a smile.

“It has to be yellow, for the sun. I pray to the goddess for a day when it shines again.”

I catch Thesha rolling her eyes but ignore it.

“I agree.” Kyrie nods, cutting a slice off her chicken breast. “The moon, too. Oh, how I long to see the stars.”

“That would be amazing,” Maya adds, taking a drink of her water.

“I heard that the land sickness has not affected Witch Mountain, where you live. Is that true?” Thesha asks in a way that is almost accusing. She stabs her fork into a piece of chicken.

I nod. “We use magic to keep the sickness at bay; the haze above, too.”

“So, you’re not affected like we are?” she asks, taking a sip of her wine.

“Not in the same way, no, but we are affected…all of us are affected, Thesha. Make no mistake about that. Even the fae.” I take a bite of my roast potato, tasting nothing. I may as well be eating dirt at this point. It’s the first time Thesha has spoken since the three of them returned.

“More wine, anyone?” Kyrie asks, holding up the bottle. I am grateful for the change of subject. She seems to be trying to keep the peace as well, and I’m grateful to her, too.

Everyone declines, so Kyrie trickles a little into her glass. So little that it’s clear she didn’t want a refill; she was helping me out.

Damon’s jaw tightens visibly when I reach for the water pitcher, filling my own glass.

Thesha’s dark eyes never leave my face, calculating and cold.

Each time our gazes meet, she doesn’t look away or try to hide her suspicion.

If anything, she seems to want me to know I’m being evaluated and found wanting.

I’m used to it, but it still stings.

Maya tries to include me again, asking about the different types of magic I’ve studied, but even her kindness feels strained, careful. I can tell she’s torn between wanting to be welcoming and wanting to side with her friends…her husband, too.

Kian’s shoulders grow more rigid as the evening progresses.

“This is delicious, Kyrie.” His voice is clipped.

His plate is also still half-full, even though it feels like we’ve been eating for an age.

Despite my gnawing hunger when we arrived, I have to work to finish the food on my plate, not wanting to waste anything.

As soon as I push away my empty plate, I practically leap at the chance to escape outside.

“If no one minds, I’d like to go and clean my teeth before bed,” I say, not meeting anyone’s eyes as I stand, picking up my plate and glass.

“Of course we don’t mind,” Kian says. “Leave those. I’ll wash up.” He gives me a tight smile.

“Thanks.” I leave the dishes, then head out before anyone can stop me. I’m tired. I need some rest. I’m sure things will be better come morning. They usually are.

I take a lantern as I leave and walk down to the lake.

It’s quiet out. The night air is crisp and clean, a blessed relief after the suffocating atmosphere inside.

I make my way down to the water, grateful for the solitude.

The water is cold but refreshing as I splash it on my face and hands, washing away the grime of travel.

Above me, the sky is black. I know that the thick haze is there, even though I can’t see it.

It blocks out everything. Then again, I crane my neck, seeing what looks like a blink of a single star.

There for a few moments and then gone. I smile.

Here, in this pocket of preserved life, even the night sky seems more alive than usual.

I hope that the lost kings can bring the realm back to life and take down the queen.

I will do everything in my power to help them, even if they don’t trust me.

I take my time, reluctant to return to the cabin and more awkward conversation. But eventually, the cold drives me back, my damp hair clinging to my shoulders.

The main room is empty except for Kian. I sigh in relief.

He has changed into fresh clothes, which comprise clean brown breeches and a cream-colored tunic that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders and the defined muscles of his chest. His blond hair is damp from washing, and he is freshly shaven, revealing the strong line of his jaw.

My breath catches in my throat. Kakara preserve me, but he’s handsome.

I’ve been trying not to notice, trying to focus on survival and getting home, but here in the warm lamplight, he’s…

striking. The way the tunic clings to his frame, the casual way he runs a hand through his golden hair, the vivid green of his eyes when they meet mine. I would have to be blind not to see it.

I want to take him in some more but force myself to look away before he catches me staring. I pretend to look out of the window, even though there is nothing to see but pitch blackness.

“The others have retired for the evening,” he says, his voice carefully neutral. “That isn’t a barn outside but rather their sleeping quarters.”

I turn to face him. The cabin suddenly feels very small with just the two of us here.

“Kyrie left these for you.” He gestures to a pile of folded garments on the table. “A dress and a clean chemise. She thought they might fit.”

My heart warms when I look at the clothing. Moreover, at the color of the dress. It is a beautiful pale yellow, my favorite color. Perhaps I am not as unwanted as I thought. Maya and Kyrie are trying; that much is clear.

“That is very kind of her.” I touch a hand to my neck, absently feeling for the amulet that is no longer there.

I wore it for so long that it almost became a part of me.

Then I lift the simple dress, which looks to be about my size.

The smock is made from clean linen, soft to the touch.

After days in my torn and muddy clothes, the prospect of something clean and whole is almost overwhelming.

Kian turns his back to me, facing the wall. “Go ahead and change. I won't look, I promise.”

I hesitate for a moment, then quickly strip out of my soiled clothes and into the fresh ones. The dress fits well, if a bit loose in places where I’ve lost weight during our ordeal. The fabric is soft against my skin, and I have to bite back a sigh of relief.

“You can turn around now.”

He does as I say, his eyes raking over me from head to toe. I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

He swallows and looks away.

“Where are we sleeping?” I ask to diffuse the tension that has crept into the room, making the air thick and my undergarments prickly against my skin.

His gaze moves to mine, and he gets this look.

“That’s the thing,” Kian says. “The sleeping arrangements are…they’re…a bit of a problem. There’s only one pallet here in the cabin,” he gestures to the bed, “since the others are using the barn, and…” He trails off.

“And?” I urge him on, even though I know exactly where this is going.

There is definite conflict written across his features. “We’ll have to share the cabin. There’s nowhere else except the chicken coop.”

I laugh. “The coop?” I shake my head. “I don’t think that will work.”

“Me neither, which means we have to share, McColl.”

My heart does something strange in my chest. Share a cabin. With him. Alone.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he says quickly, as if reading my thoughts. “I’ll take a blanket, and…I’ll be just fine.”

I frown. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The words come out sharper than I intended. I soften my tone. “We’ve been sleeping rough for days. There’s no need for either of us to be uncomfortable when there’s a perfectly good bed right there.”

His eyes widen slightly. “McColl, I don’t think that’s—”

“What’s the big deal?” I shrug. “I mean, we’re both adults.” By the goddess, it feels like my cheeks are on fire. “We can share a bed without anything…improper happening.”

He looks like he wants to argue, like he’s wrestling with some internal battle. His jaw works silently for a long moment, and I can see the tension in his shoulders.

“I can trust you, can’t I? Not to—”

“Of course,” he snaps, giving a small snort.

“You can trust me, too. We’re friends…that’s all.” I don’t think friends are supposed to notice each other like I notice him…but I’m running with it. “Kian?” I prompt when he doesn’t respond.

“Of course, you’re absolutely right…friends,” he says finally, but his reluctance is clear. “If you’re sure, then I’m fine with it, too.”

I’m not sure of anything, but I nod anyway. “I’m sure.”

We prepare for bed in awkward silence. I braid my damp hair while he banks the fire and checks that the door is secured. The pallet is narrow – barely wide enough for two people – and I can’t help but think about how close we’ll be lying together.

It will be fine. I’m being silly.

When there is nothing left to do but sleep, we approach the bed from opposite sides. Kian hesitates at the edge, and for a moment, I think he’s going to change his mind and take the floor after all.

But then he lies down, careful to stay as far to his side as possible. I do the same, leaving as much space between us as the narrow mattress allows.

It’s not enough.

Even with the gap between us, I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His scent is of clean male with a hint of wood smoke, which fills my nostrils with every breath. I’m acutely aware of every small movement he makes, every shift and sigh.

This was a terrible idea.

I stare up at the ceiling, my body rigid with the effort of staying as far away from him as I can. I can hear his breathing, steady but not quite relaxed. He’s as affected by this as I am, but perhaps not in the same way.

My skin feels too tight, too warm. Every nerve ending seems to be reaching toward him, drawn by some invisible force I can’t control or understand.

“McColl?” His voice is deep and yet quiet in the darkness.

“Yes?” I whisper.

“Are you alright? You seem…tense.”

I almost laugh at the understatement. “I’m fine. Just…it’s been a long day.”

“It has.” A pause. “I’m sorry about…the others. They’re normally not so…” He stops talking. I think he’s trying to find the right word to use.

“Suspicious? Hostile?” I say, smiling, even though it isn’t something to smile about.

He pushes out a heavy breath. “I would go with protective,” he says carefully. I think he might be smiling too. “We’ve all lost so much. It’s made us wary of trusting anyone new, especially…” He lets the sentence trail off.

“A witch?”

“Someone different. I happen to like different.” He’s definitely smiling.

I smile, too. “I really do understand.” And I do, even if it stings. “I’ve never fit in. Not even with my own people…I’ve never been powerful enough, I guess.” I’m going off in a different direction and veer back on track. “They care about you. I can see that, and it’s a good thing.”

“They do. But that doesn’t excuse their treatment of you.” There’s a hint of anger in his voice now. It warms me that he wants to stick up for me.

“They don’t know me,” I say softly. “All they see is a witch. An enemy. I can’t blame them for that.”

“I can.” His voice is fierce. “I wish they would listen to me. If they can’t trust you, they should trust me, but they say that my judgment is clouded.”

“Why would your judgment be clouded?” I frown.

“Because we went through a lot. When two people are put in the tough situations we had to face, it brings them together. They say I’m blinded by that.”

It feels like he’s keeping something from me, but I don’t push.

“They’re wrong, though,” he adds when I don’t say anything.

“Like I said, you can’t blame them for being suspicious of a witch,” I say instead.

“I guess, as long as you know they’re good people, they just need time to see what I see in you.”

And what do you see? I want to ask, but I don’t dare.

The silence stretches between us again, heavy with things we’re not saying. I can feel him breathing beside me, feel the mattress dip slightly with his weight.

“It’s up to me to change their minds through my actions,” I tell him. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“Good night, McColl.”

“Good night,” I reply as I turn onto my side, facing away from him. I wish I weren’t so aware of him. Of the curve of his body so close to mine, the warmth of his breath stirring the air near my neck.

Sleep, I tell myself firmly.

Just go to sleep!

But sleep is a long time coming. I lie there in the darkness, listening to the soft sounds of his breathing. Trying not to acknowledge the growing certainty that what I feel for this fae king is far more dangerous than any enemy I’ve ever faced.

I like him.

I like him more than I should, and it could get me into trouble. A witch and a fae are like oil and water. We don’t belong together, and we never will.

Thankfully, despite my muddled thoughts, I finally drift off.