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Chapter 13 ~ The Younger Sister

Rígan

You can call me Dàibhid.

He wanted the title gone, which meant he wanted to be on closer terms. Friendlier terms.

The thought sent me teetering drunkenly into a wall as I tried to relocate the damn garden on my way back from the meeting. Luckily, no one saw. But if they had, I was sure the scowl I sported would have sent them scurrying.

Being his friend again wasn’t part of my plan. It couldn’t be part of my plan, not if I didn’t want to risk my life falling to pieces around me and having my other friends treat me differently.

Despite the few wrong turns and people I smacked into around corners, I found my way back to the garden. Bryn, exactly where I’d left her, stood at the sight of me, though I doubted it was because of my arrival. My cheeks burned—more than likely visibly—and my heart still pounded, the damn thing.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing.” I ignored her knowing look. “I spoke to Dàibhid, and he’s invited you to live here, with us. At least until you figure out if this is what you really want.”

She sat back down, dragging me with her. She bit her lip. “It’s no trouble?”

Sitting with Bryn brought my face back to a normal temperature, my heart to a normal rhythm. “None. We have a little slice of the castle all to ourselves and more bedrooms than necessary.”

She ran a hand down her skirts, trying to subdue what I imagined could have been a large smile. I made sure she saw none of my hesitation, none of my worry about her being here. It had barely made an appearance when I’d first seen her, but the moment we began discussing the Exiles in the meeting, reality had slammed into me. Fenwald was much safer than Cunlaran, and with me, Bryn could become a target. It would even be safer to form her own life here, disconnected from me, even with the Exiles looming. But she’d come here to find herself like I had, which couldn’t have meant she’d be content wandering around a different castle and exploring a different capital city, albeit while posing as a commoner. Nor would she balk at the risk of the Exiles, not if she was that unhappy in Fenwald. And I’d always told her that the best adventures would see us together. That’s what she would be here for—something different, with me, no matter the obstacles.

Still, even if she decided she was on board with my lifestyle for herself, my current sort of adventure involved spying, and lying, and could very well come down to killing. I wasn’t sure if she’d kept up with her training, but even if she had, had she gotten a handle on the thought of injuring someone? She always flinched if she thought she hurt anyone.

But Dàibhid was right. It couldn’t hurt to see what this time between missions brought. Perhaps being here, around actual sellswords and commanders and fighters, would give Bryn a better idea of what she’d walked into. She could decide later if this was what she really wanted. And if she wanted to return to Bergspeer, I’d help her.

But I had to check on one particular detail.

I grasped her hands. “I need to know you’ve truly thought about what this entails. For us, I mean. With the secret.”

She gave a small smile. “If you’re asking if I’m comfortable maintaining your story with others, the answer is unequivocally yes. I’ve never had a hard time keeping your secrets.”

Relief swept over me, even though I’d known that would be her answer. “Thank you. If it does get hard—”

“What?” She poked me. “You’ll send me home?”

I poked her back. “Never. Not if you don’t want to go.”

“Then I suppose you’re stuck with me.”

I rested my head on her shoulder, snuggling in. The angle was awkward, given I was taller than her even sitting down, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to sit like that for a moment.

“Alright, you know our family cover story,” I said. “You know enough about what I’ve been up to. You know your cover name.” She snorted. “I think we’re good to go.”

“Why didn’t you give me a different name?”

“What, wish I’d given you a different kickass name than the one you already have?”

She giggled at the compliment. “Just curious.”

I raised my head, my neck protesting too much to ignore any longer. “I debated it. But I was worried I’d slip and say your real name. Well, nickname, anyway. I’ve never used anything else for you, and Bryn happens to be a popular name here. Not even short for anything. It’s not like you ever met Dàibhid or Brí, so that’s no trouble.”

“How fortunate for me,” she said, content.

I stood, dusting off my dress. Bryn liked her name—I used to envy her that. “Indeed. Oh, Dàibhid will want to ask you some questions about Glaochnamara.”

She stopped short of standing, bent at the waist. “He will?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a test.” When I didn’t elaborate, she finished standing, her mouth twisted and nose wrinkled. I laughed. “Promise. I could even ask you myself right now, but it’s best if Dàibhid is present.”

“How is it? Working with him?” she asked. My cheeks reheated, my ears following suit. She put her hand on my arm. “That’s what you walked over here looking like. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I opened my mouth to deflect, but stopped. I was open with my friends in most regards, but there were things I couldn’t tell them—like the true reason I’d get flustered around Dàibhid and why I’d then be frustrated with myself. But I didn’t have to keep that from Bryn.

Still, where did I start? “It’s complicated.”

“Rígan.”

“I want to tell you, I do, there’s just so much.” Or maybe things were simpler than I wanted to admit, but I didn’t feel like looking at them too closely.

“Well, if you want help figuring it out, I’m happy to listen.” The wind picked up and she shielded her eyes, the gust rustling our dresses and making our hair fly. “Is this sudden gusting normal?”

“Incredibly.” A few cold droplets of water plunked against my forehead. “As is a sudden onslaught of rain.”

She picked a couple packs off the ground, presumably all she brought with her—I’d need to take her to get more clothes—and spat out a chunk of hair that flew into her mouth. “Maybe we should head inside?”

I led her in, shaking some of the water away as she took in Bailanín’s unique splendor, noticeably different from what we grew up with. Candlelight draped across the walls as rain pelted the large windows that lined the hall leading to the stairs, the flames turning the brown bricks golden. The smell of wood and something ancient was ever-present in the halls, with the sporadic scent of flowers from the gardens spilling in through windows that had yet to be shuttered. Bryn stopped occasionally to study the tapestries and paintings, sending me a knowing smile when we passed a tapestry with Morrígan, the only other depiction in the castle beyond the one I’d seen that first day.

Bryn leaned into me whisper-close. “The name suits you.”

I beamed. She’d told me as much before, but it felt just as good to hear years later.

The door to our apartments came into view, turning my limbs jittery. I’d dreamed of introducing Bryn to my friends for so long; it was surreal to finally bring the three most important people in my life together.

I’d say I paused at the door, waiting for Bryn to catch up, though truthfully, I halted rather abruptly, anticipation mingling with cool ice. Two halves of my life, a Before and After, stood before me. Was I ready for that collision? For what I’d so carefully and lovingly built here to be touched by what I’d left behind when I’d been Nina?

But I’d never left Bryn behind, not really. Maya and Lou knew about her—or the parts of her I chose to share—and knew she was special to me. Knew she’d made me the blanket at the foot of my bed and was my first best friend. Why should I be worried to introduce them?

The ice spread to my limbs, turning my fingers chilly. Bryn was about to be even more implicated in my secret than before. She wouldn’t be once removed; she’d be in the thick of it. Need to maintain my lie to more people.

I tossed the thought away. She’d made the choice to be here, had said she had no problem keeping my secret. She’d known what coming here meant from the start.

And, quite frankly, I wanted this too much.

Bryn stepped beside me, and, banishing the ice, I opened the door.

áine and Brí were the first to see us. Brí had a satchel in her hand, áine a matching one. Brí walked past us with a wave, presumably heading for her room in the royal apartments. áine made for the bedrooms in ours.

Maya and Lou sat on one of the two couches with their backs to us, chatting.

“I found this in the garden,” I said by way of getting their attention.

Both turned at the same time, Maya’s eyes going wide.

“Who do we have here?” she asked, swapping her wide eyes for a lazy smile that sent Bryn blushing. I hoped I wouldn’t have to have a conversation with Maya about casually flirting with Bryn. That was the last thing my hopeless-romantic sister needed right now.

“Lou, Maya, this is Bryn.” I almost choked up saying it.

Lou grinned wide as he stood and advanced on Bryn. I’d told them how much of a hugger my sister was and was unsurprised when Lou threw his arms around her.

“Welcome, Bryn,” he said. Bryn let out a laugh as she hugged him back.

Maya kept smiling, less flirtatious now, purely kind. “It’s nice to meet you, Bryn.”

Unlike Lou, Maya didn’t hug on a first meeting. But the way she took my sister in suggested her kindness wasn’t devoid of that initial intrigue. Perhaps not so casual, after all. Interesting.

“You too.” Bryn was beet red, alternating between avoiding eye contact with Maya and openly staring. I was unsure if I should be uncomfortable or amused.

“What brings you here?” Lou asked, guiding us toward the opposite couch.

“Change of pace?” Bryn let out an uneasy laugh. “Being in one place, without Rígan, no less, started to get to me. I . . .” She bit her lip, clearly unsure how much she should share.

“She wants to figure out who she is. Like I wanted to,” I said. Bryn shot me a grateful smile.

“How will you do that?” Maya asked, crossing an ankle over her thigh. Her trouser-clad thigh. I inhaled sharply, taking in our outfits. Bryn and I, while not the fanciest we’d ever been, wore things we could have worn around Bergspeer or for a stroll in Halkberg. Maya and Lou were in relaxed leathers, easy to train and move about in. I put a lid on the discomfort that visual separation gave me.

“I’m not sure yet.” Bryn tucked a stray curl, still damp and a little windblown, behind her ear. “I was hoping Rígan could help me figure that out.”

“I’m sure we all can,” I said. “Lou was a big help when I first arrived. They’ve been mentored so much that they’ve become a good one themself.”

Lou brushed the comment off. “Nah, you were already well on your way without me.”

“That’s sweet. But seriously, you helped me find my place here. You both did.”

Maya tossed a walnut from a dish into her mouth. “Damn right we did.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. But it was true—I’d felt braver because of her, despite already wielding a hefty amount of confidence, and I’d felt more sure of myself because of Lou.

Perhaps they could do the same for Bryn. My sister wasn’t cowardly or weak by any means, but she wasn’t always good at making herself heard where her own interests were concerned. Believed everyone else deserved to come first. Maybe being around us would help with that.

Maya stuck her tongue back out at me, and contentment washed through me. Surrounded by my family, having this job . . . I was so proud of it all. This was the life I’d always dreamed of.

We talked until our first signs of hunger, an hour before dinner would be ready.

“But lunch was so filling,” Lou bemoaned.

“So I can have your helping at dinner?” I asked.

“Not a chance.”

“Damn.” I turned to Bryn. “I suppose we should find you a room before dinner.” To my friends, I said, “Dàibhid said she can stay here with us.”

Maya’s eyebrows shot up. “Dàibhid, huh?”

“When did that happen?” Lou asked.

I shrugged like it was nothing. “He asked me to call him by his name after the meeting ended.”

Maya’s lips twitched. “Did he now?”

I groaned. “Stop it.”

She didn’t, so I threw a pillow at her face.

She threw one right back. “Has Rígan told you, Bryn, how she wants to scandalize His Majesty?” Maya dodged my next pillow, grinning.

“I never said that!”

“You basically did.”

Bryn giggled into her fist. I, on the other hand, wanted to punch Maya. Lightly, of course. Especially after she sent another pillow flying at me.

Lou threw pillows at both of us. “Honestly. Why am I the responsible one all the time?”

“ All the time?” Maya and I said.

“You’re remarkably easily distracted,” I added. “It doesn’t make for complete responsibility at all hours.”

They smirked. “Fine, most of the time.”

I chuckled and smoothed my tousled hair. Smoothed the bodice of my dress for good measure. Tapped my feet when I remembered the look Dàibhid gave me when he saw me in it. All heat and admiration that sent tingles over my skin and made me feel sexier than I already felt. Made him sexier, too.

You can call me Dàibhid.

I bit my cheek as my friends teased each other, cursing Maya for bringing him back to the forefront of my mind. I shouldn’t have been thinking about him like that.

Then again . . . why not? What was the harm in admiring him and appreciating the way he admired me? It didn’t have to mean anything. I was a flirtatious person; it was bound to slip out, and he had to know that was part of my charm by now. If I stopped admiring, if I stopped acknowledging his admiring, he’d notice and question it, finding cause to check in on me given his considerate nature. And we couldn’t have that, now, could we?

Friendlier terms didn’t have to mean friendship. So what if he wanted the title gone? I understood how that felt all too well.

Bryn claimed the room opposite mine. I followed her inside, shutting the door behind us.

“I like them for you,” Bryn said, sitting on the bed and dropping her packs on the floor. “In general, really.”

“I thought you would.”

“It feels nice calling you Rígan in front of others.”

“It feels nice hearing it.” She’d only called me it in private before, when we weren’t at risk of being overheard. The decision to change my name would have hurt my mother, and I hadn’t wanted my sisters to either take her side or pity me.

“What did you tell them? Mother and Father.”

Bryn loosed a sigh and fell onto her back. “I told them I needed to get away. That the search for a suitor was wearing me thin. Which was true.” Her eyes shone, tears moments from falling. She squeezed them shut. “I told them Lady Grace was going on a tour of the southern continent. That I wanted to go with her. They allowed it.”

“And Lady Grace?” She was a Fenwaldan countess, a matronly woman who never married and had no children. When she’d come to visit our mother to discuss the women in her county, she would always dote on the youngest of us like a loving aunt.

“I asked her to trust me. And to not say anything.”

Lady Grace was kind and never asked too many questions; I always thought she could tell something was off with me, but, in her all-seeing way, knew not to tell my parents. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she saw Bryn’s desperation to get away and thought of nothing beyond how to help. Still . . .

“That’s a precarious way to go about this, Bryn.”

She heaved another sigh. “I know. It was hard enough weaving a lie for Mother and Father. Going beyond that . . .”

“I understand.” I flopped down beside her. I was the conniving one of the two of us. Telling Bryn what story needed to be told was one thing, but getting her to come up with an elaborate one of her own was something else.

I laced my fingers through Bryn’s. I scooted until our hips touched, instinctively seeking a form of comfort, of safety, I hadn’t had in three years. In that moment, I felt like the younger sister, and I wasn’t upset about it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She laid her head against mine. “Me too.”