Page 45

Kael remained standing at the edge of the Enclave awhile after the púca had gone. His mind was at once both flooded and depleted, both overwhelmingly loud and terrifyingly silent. It was only the bone-deep ache in his exhausted body that finally drove him back towards the cairn.

Rodney lay reclined with his pack beneath his head, legs splayed out across the dirt floor.

Raif was crouched beside the fire, idly sharpening the blade Kael knew the soldier carried tucked in his boot.

Kael’s eyes swept the space for Aisling, but she wasn’t with the others.

Before he could ask, Rodney nodded toward a doorway on the opposite side of the chamber.

Aisling was sitting against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest when Kael entered. He had to duck his head beneath the lower ceiling. Without saying anything, he unfastened the cloak from around his neck and held it out to her. She looked up at it, eyes glassy and only half-focused.

“So you don’t have to lay on the bare ground,” he explained.

“Thank you.” She took the cloak and tucked it into her lap, holding it between her knees and chest. She looked so small, curled up as she was. As though she were trying to take up as little space as she could. Kael’s throat tightened, but he cleared it so he could speak again.

“Would you like me to lay it out for you?”

Aisling hugged it tighter to herself and shook her head. “That’s okay.”

Kael eased himself down the uneven stone wall to sit beside her.

He held his breath, waiting for her to send him away.

When she didn’t, he reached out almost on instinct and ran the tip of one finger tentatively over the dark circles beneath Aisling’s eyes.

She didn’t lean into the contact, but she didn’t pull away either.

Quietly, afraid to break whatever spell was keeping her still beneath his touch, Kael murmured, “You’re tired. ”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Her eyes briefly fluttered closed when he withdrew his hand.

“She hasn’t been sleeping, period,” Rodney chimed in from the adjacent chamber. Aisling glowered in the direction of the doorway.

“I hate your new ears,” she grumbled, just loud enough for those ears to hear. Rodney huffed.

“Aisling,” Kael said, drawing her attention back to him. “You need to rest.”

The hardness she wore on her face faltered just enough for him to see a flash of pain and fear cloud her expression.

“I can’t—” She paused to draw a shaky breath, her fingers curling tightly around the cuffs of Rodney’s sweater, then said again, “I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see…”

Kael didn’t let her finish, instead reaching out his hand once more to tip her chin up. “Then look into mine,” he said fiercely. “Look into my eyes now while I tell you, swear to you, that I’m alright. That I’m here.”

She did for a moment, before the intensity of his gaze forced her to look away. “What about you? Have you slept?”

He considered her question, unable to determine when he’d last rested. The void-like blackness that came before the visions was the closest he’d come to peace since his arrival in Elowas, but he didn’t say as much. “I am not sure.”

When she didn’t respond, Kael swept a gentle hand over the crown of Aisling’s head then rose and quietly left her to her thoughts.

He felt out of his depths, attempting to provide her comfort as she continued to pull away.

So for now, just for tonight, he allowed his fear of facing more truths drive him away from raising the questions they both knew he needed to ask.

Kael returned to the center chamber and sat beside Raif near the fire. He couldn't feel its warmth the way he could Aisling's.

“The púca believes Lyre to be dead,” Kael said to the flames.

“Dead or captured,” Raif responded, matter-of-fact. “And either way, no great loss to me.”

Kael almost smirked at the soldier’s frank assessment. “You have never liked the Prelates.”

“Neither liked nor trusted. Do you think they—”

Kael could tell where Raif’s mind had gone and cut him off before he could finish: “No. They didn’t know. To them—to all of us—the Low One was real.”

“Was?” Raif’s question didn’t sound like a challenge or judgement; more so a genuine effort to understand his friend.

Was. Would Kael give up his god so easily?

The paintings on the cairn wall were older than his knowledge, older than his devotion.

Even if he could convince himself that Aisling was wrong, he couldn’t deny that sort of history.

And he couldn’t deny the cruelty Yalde had shown him—a cruelty disproportionate with what he believed the Low One would be capable of.

He nodded tightly and said again, “Was.”

Raif studied Kael’s stony expression for a moment more before he rose. “Rest. I'll sit watch awhile.” The soldier tucked his blade back into his boot and moved toward the cairn’s entrance.

Stiffly, Kael shifted down to lay on his side.

He had half a mind to find a separate chamber, if only to escape the púca’s quiet snoring.

But he preferred to stay where he could keep an eye on the entrance, where he could respond quickly should Raif call out.

And where he could still see a sliver of dark, star-specked sky.