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Chapter 34 ~ A Shattering

Rígan

I stared at Dàibhid without really seeing him.

“Why did you call me that?” My ears rang and my heart thundered, lurching me with every beat.

It was a slip of the tongue. It had to be. I reminded Dàibhid of his childhood friend. It was that simple.

Except he hadn’t taken it back. He would have already if it had been a mistake.

My eyes burned. Shit. I would not cry in front of him, not for this.

“Answer me.”

The corners of his eyes creased like he was in pain. What right did he have to look that way when it was my life teetering on the edge?

“Because I pieced it together the day you left for Tírdorcha. The things you said, the way you acted . . . You still have the same personality. Watching you, interacting with you, it just sort of clicked.”

My breaths turned shallow. I shook my head furiously, refusing to believe the words. Not having any choice but to. “No. Fuck, no.”

I spun on my heels and fled his tent as something cracked. There was a shattering inside me, a tearing down that I couldn’t stop, and I refused to let him see it happen. Refused to hear the speech about how I shouldn’t be here, that he’d have to tell my parents if he was going to maintain good diplomatic relations.

Refused to hear him condemn my life.

I barely caught myself from tripping as I ran, keeping my momentum and striving for the river. I’d found a quiet place the other day, where it seemed no one ever went. I made for it now, hoping I’d been right.

When I found myself alone, I sank to the ground, not caring that my tights were getting soaked with mud. Uncontrollable sobs racked through me, my face surely a disgusting mess, my sleeves following suit.

He’d recognized me. He’d recognized me, when I’d desperately hoped he never would. But I’d grown too comfortable, too familiar, too damn trusting, refusing to listen to my better judgment and stay away from him. And now everything was on the line—I could get sent back to Fenwald. Bryn could get sent back. Bryn deserved to figure herself out here. And who would I even be if I went back?

How could I be me without the people who saw who I really was?

I trembled with nausea, and fear, and absolute anger at myself. I’d been so foolish . Dàibhid and I had been close as children; that sort of bond remains in memory if nowhere else. Of course he would have figured it out one way or another. How could I have been so recklessly, utterly, unbelievably foolish?

Distant laughter resounded from the camp. Was one Bryn’s? I folded my arms around myself. Gods, I wanted her sitting beside me. Another sob rose, my hand flying to stifle the sound, my face damp. I’d have to tell her what we’d lost. Have to tell her all her hopes for being here were slipping. And being with her would only make me want to be with Maya and Lou, and gods knew whether I’d be able to lie my way through that one. I tucked myself against the nearest tree, wiping my cheeks on my knees. How was it that the three people I wanted most were the ones I couldn’t talk to?

No. Four people. I hiccupped on more tears and slammed my fist into the cold ground. Because damn it all if I didn’t want to go back to Dàibhid’s tent and talk to him about it.

There was no way I was making that mistake. I had no idea whether I could trust him, even if part of me believed he deserved the chance.

I stayed there, sitting on the ground until I’d cried all the tears I possibly could. And then I stayed longer for the swelling to die down. By the time I stood, the sun, mostly obscured by clouds, was midway across the sky. My legs were numb, and an empty want sat in my soul. I had no idea what would remedy it, but it wouldn’t be found by staying where I was.

I hobbled toward the village, the numbness in my legs turning to tingling. I let my feet carry me where they would until I stood in front of the bakery. I swung the door open with more force than necessary, finding áine inside. She raised a brow, which I pretended not to see.

“What do we have today?” I asked Pádraig, the man who ran the place. My voice was normal, if not a bit clogged from my still-stuffy nose.

“Bread from this morning. Waiting on some strawberry buns now.” He stopped what he was doing and eyed me appraisingly before softening. “They’re a great comfort food, those strawberry buns. If you wait a few minutes, they’ll be good to go.”

I crossed my arms, gripping them tightly. I would not cry. Pádraig had a young daughter. He was probably reacting with concerned-father instincts, some of my tumultuous emotions slipping through for him to see. His daughter must have been well cared for.

Shit. That brought the stinging back, threatening tears. I’d rarely wanted to seek comfort in my parents since I’d left them, but something about this shattering had me craving their warmth despite hoping I wouldn’t see them any time soon.

I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Pádraig. Those would be lovely.”

He nodded, sensing not to prod further.

áine didn’t get the message.

“What is it?” she asked.

I refused to look her way. “When did you become an emotional support?”

“I didn’t. But there’s something off with you that isn’t normal.” She lowered her voice. “With what we might face, we all need to be at our best. Sharpest.”

“Believe me.” I tightened my grip once more. “I’m sharp.”

She backed off, but didn’t leave my side. Now it was my turn to wonder.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. We don’t do emotional support, remember?”

“Which implies you need some.” I tilted my head. “Pádraig said the buns are a great comfort food.”

She fidgeted her fingers over the hilt of her favorite dagger. “They are.” Her words came out thick.

“I assume you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Just like you don’t.”

Pádraig pulled a tray of pink-tinged buns from the oven. The scent was fresh and sweet, a summer’s hug on the brink of autumn. I inhaled like my life depended on it.

áine stepped forward to take a bag of them, but hesitated. “Do you want to be alone, or do you want company?”

Now I hesitated. The river was calling my name again, but so was the village. But any of the people I didn’t want to see could be wandering around, and if Maya or Lou saw me, they’d only pull things out of me I’d tried so hard to keep from them, and the thought of them changing around me, of looking at me differently . . .

But being alone would only result in wallowing. I didn’t feel like doing any more of that for the moment. áine didn’t ask questions, and when she did, accepted no as a full sentence. And right now, she seemed warm. Accepting. Supportive. I needed that.

“I think I’d like company.”

áine led us away from the bakery to the edge of the village center, close enough to see and hear the regular comings and goings of those around us but far enough away to imply we didn’t want anyone joining. I took a seat on a bench, accepting the bun she extended.

Though the first bite was exactly how I’d imagined—sweet and fluffy and delectably warm—it did little to ease my aching bones. If anything, it made me want to unleash my pent-up words more. I shoved them down with the bun.

áine’s expression was colder than usual, her mouth tight. I nudged her shoulder with mine. It drew a quirk from her lips, and she returned the nudge with a gentle one of her own.

When I bit into my third bun, Brí walked into view. Though she didn’t notice us, her presence shifted something within me.

“You’re tense,” áine said, pointing to my hand. My strawberry bun was thoroughly smooshed, two blobs of dough sticking out from either end of my fist. I ripped off a piece and chewed more forcefully than normal, my jaw clicking with the strained motion.

I rolled my neck, forcing it loose. “It’s nothing.”

“If you and Brí are still going at it—”

“We aren’t,” I said. Visions of Brí as a girl flashed when I blinked, swapping out for the previous night when she’d appeared before me and Dàibhid.

“ Something has you in a rage. Is it going to be a problem?”

I scoffed. “You’re always angry, áine. It’s never a problem for you.”

“That’s different. Yours isn’t just anger.”

“And yours is?” I wasn’t sure what made me say it. But being angry at áine was easier than letting myself grieve over what might be ending spectacularly around me.

She flinched like I’d hit a mark.

“Sorry.” I stared at my feet.

She stayed quiet, settling into her former position. I took that as forgiveness.

But with those few words released, I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. I needed actual conversation, not silence, and my inner turmoil was about to get the best of me.

“How do you do it? How do you keep everything on a tight leash all the time?”

“No emotional support, remember?”

Except my entire being felt like imploding, and I needed to know how I could keep it to myself, if only for a little while longer. “I just—”

“No. No justs or buts. I’m happy to sit with you as we both deal with our shit, but don’t talk to me about leashing pain, not today.”

I blinked. I hadn’t mentioned pain.

She tore a strawberry bun in half, then squished the halves together like she wanted to take the action back. “You want to know what I do? I suck it up. So whatever is going on with you? Suck. It. Up .”

It was my turn to flinch. I knew she could be cold, but the bite behind her words was something else, much too disproportionate for the conversation.

“You started it,” I mumbled, fighting unease.

She breathed in deeply through her nose. “My mistake.”

She bit into her bun, the moment over. I tried to ease myself, but missed the mark. Her words ricocheted too strongly. Suck it up .

What if things were about to end? How could I pretend like that wasn’t a likely possibility? It was too much. Dàibhid would send me to Fenwald, and I’d have to explain to my parents what I’d been doing, how I’d lied to them for three years. How I didn’t feel like myself when I was Princess Nina. How I hated the name and what it represented.

By the Faith, that would break my mother’s heart. I’d be spitting on her favorite name, the one she believed she’d fatefully saved for me, her youngest and final child. And how would my father react? He wasn’t generally prone to anger, especially with his family, but this . . . I wasn’t sure.

And Bryn would have to go with me. There’s no way she could escape that. And she’d truly started finding her voice here. Had found friends within mine, completing the group I’d dreamed of for years. We’d both lose Lou and Maya.

Who didn’t know either of us were royalty. I was Rígan to them, not Nina, and I couldn’t become Nina. Certainly not Princess Nina.

And what of him ? When did he plan on telling my parents? When he wrote to Fenwald for aid? When he explained that a war could be coming? That would definitely result in us going back.

But not in going home. That was here, in Cunlaran.

Fuck. Maybe áine was right. Things were undoubtedly shitty, but I still had a job to do, a home to look after. I came here to protect others. I found my place, my people, and I’d be damned if I didn’t fight for them. I couldn’t wallow in sadness when things went sideways.

My parents didn’t know yet. A letter couldn’t reach them for a couple weeks, one at best. The response would take the same amount of time. And if Dàibhid waited to tell them until he sent the letter to request aid, whenever that might be? That would take even longer. There was no guarantee anyone else here, in the Grove, would learn about my identity. Maybe Dàibhid wanted to keep it under wraps, make sure a scandal didn’t break out. It was the smart choice. Which meant nothing was stopping me from forging ahead like nothing had changed.

I still had time to protect the people I’d sworn to look after long before Dàibhid had hired us. Long before I’d even arrived in Cunlaran, when it had been a vow whispered to a single sister in a faraway castle. Protecting people was why I was here.

And it was what I would keep doing.