Page 5

“I didn’t mean to be so late, I fell asleep,” I said, and regretted it immediately.

“You fell asleep? You fell asleep! Where could you possibly have fallen asleep? It was snowing!”

I could see the fury brimming in his eyes when I dared a glance at him. I kept my gaze on the table, head low.

“Well?! Where did you fall asleep?”

I wished I could shrink into the background as well as my mother did. Wished I could melt into the chair, into the floor, flow away like water. I had no excuse to give, no lie prepared. Even if I had, I’d always been a terrible liar.

“At Sigurd’s,” I finally said, nearly a whisper.

His hand slammed onto the table, startling me. “Gods damn it, Halja! And with a boy, no less! What were you doing there?!”

“Just visiting,” I squeaked.

“Oh, just visiting. Just visiting . I know what young men do when they ‘just visit’ with a woman, Halja. I know!”

He stood and began to pace, then stopped and loomed over me. I shrank further, willing my body to fold into nothing. My palms began to sweat, and my stomach turned with nausea.

“I can’t believe you Halja! Did you– Did you have… Did you sleep with that boy?”

He was too ashamed of the act to even utter the words. That shame coursed through me, seeped into my very bones. Shame I had been born with, raised with, steeped in since the day I arrived. I did not answer.

“Gods be damned, how am I supposed to find you a husband now?! How will I ever get rid of you?”

“Calm down Iagan, times are changing–” my mother began, but he was quick to silence her.

“You stay out of this, Istra! You’ve protected her long enough! It’s time she learns a lesson.”

“So you want to get rid of me now?” I asked.

“Oh, if I could marry you off today, I would in a heartbeat! To any old sucker, any lump with a brain and a cock! If anybody would take you. But no! They won’t! Not with a face and eyes like that. And certainly not after this.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?” I asked quietly, although I knew the answer. I kept my gaze down, but the question was enough to stoke his rage.

“Oh that’s rich, as if you can’t see! Like you don’t know. There’s fae written all over you!” he raged.

“Shut up,” I said quietly.

“What did you say to me?”

“I may have been late last night, but you don’t have to attack me for my looks.”

“How dare you!” he thundered, the air vibrating with his anger. “Talking back to me now! You sneak around like a little whore and then you think you get to talk back to me?”

“Stop it!” I yelled. Fear coursed through me and my heart pounded, but I raised my head and yelled it all the same.

“Shut your mouth! I should have never let you into this house. Never! I should’ve thrown you into the sea the night you were born, gods damn it!

I was too nice, even though I never wanted you.

” He turned on my mother. “I did it for you, took you and your baby even though I knew there was something wrong with her! I was blinded by my love for you!”

My mother gasped, a look of shocked horror on her face.

Silence, then. Heavy and pregnant.

“What did you say?” I asked. It was my turn to be menacingly quiet now.

My father looked away. “You heard what I said.” He spoke the words to the wall.

“You never wanted me?”

“No, of course not!” he snapped, as if the notion were ridiculous, and I could have sworn my ribcage imploded. Crushed like I had dove too deep, as if he really had thrown me into the ocean.

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“You aren’t my child.”

“What?” I breathed.

“Your mother was pregnant when I met her, and I wanted her to stay, wanted to keep her safe, so I kept you too. Despite your… looks. But I’ve had enough.

Enough of you sneaking about, your lies, your trickery!

Enough of your disobedience. I suppose I can’t blame you, not really.

It’s in your blood. Tricky and deceiving and good for nothing fae!

So perhaps you’re right, maybe you can’t help it. Maybe it isn’t your fault.”

I rose on shaky legs and walked slowly out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” he yelled. “I’m not done with you!”

“Oh, I think you are,” I whispered. “You’ve said enough.”

“Get back here!” he called, but changed his tactic when he realized I wasn’t going to obey. “Good, go then! Get out of here! Get out of my house! I should have kicked you out years ago.”

I kept walking toward the room I shared with Noirin. He was no father of mine. And this was no home.

I barely saw what I was doing as I packed. Barely noticed the tears dripping onto everything I grabbed. My mother appeared in the doorway as I shoved clothes, blankets, and all of the money I had saved into a bag. She clutched a small pouch, and her cheeks were tear-streaked.

“Halja, please don’t go,” she said.

“What else can I do? Stay here? After that?”

“We can work it out, your father didn’t mean–”

“That man is not my father,” I snapped, pointing accusingly toward the kitchen. “I am not his child and so this is not my home. I’m leaving.”

I expected more of an argument, but my mother was only quiet. Then she said with a faint, haunted voice, “I understand.”

A deep longing sounded in those two words, like they were spoken from the depths of an empty cave.

A melancholic reservation to a life of confinement, a resignation of freedom, the surrender of a past I could not even guess at.

I saw in her eyes, heard in her voice, all the pain of a story I had never even known.

Never even pondered. A whole life, a whole mystery before my existence.

We stood there, looking at each other, black eyed mother and black eyed daughter.

But the rage and pain of my father’s words still rang in my head. I had no choice left now. I continued to pack.

“Take this,” my mother said. She pressed the small, weighty pouch into my hands. I peeked inside and saw it was full of glinting coins.

“This is too much,” I argued.

“Take it, Halja. It’s all I can do to help you now. I am… I am so sorry.”

Another tear slipped from her eye, and I looked away so my resolve would not crumble.

I did not ask any questions, did not press any more, although the mystery of my lineage already weighed on me.

All I could think of was escape. I only wanted to flee this place, to feel the wind in my hair, hear the thunder of hooves. I needed to run.

I pulled my mother into a tight hug, felt the tension in her body as she battled tears. Felt the same in my own.

“I love you, Hal. Be safe, please.”

“I love you, Mother,” I said. “I will. You stay safe too.”

I pulled back to look her in the eye. She gave me a single nod, and I walked out the door.

∞∞∞

“Noirin!” I called in the yard. “Noir!”

“What!” she yelled back from the barn, where I was heading.

I rushed in and pulled her into a tight hug. She dropped the bucket she held.

“What in the hells is going on?” she asked, hugging me back only loosely in her confusion.

“I’m leaving. Right now. Help me saddle the new horse.”

“You’re leaving? To where?”

“I have no idea. Away from here.”

I felt her eyes on me as she helped me ready the blue roan. I knew she had questions, but I had too many questions myself to be answering hers. And I could not stay here to untangle this history now.

I cinched down my saddlebags and shoved a foot in one stirrup, then stepped down and pulled Noirin into an embrace again.

“Be safe here, Noir,” I said. “Keep your head up. Don’t let Father get you down. Stand up for yourself, and for Mother. She needs it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, confused. “You’re coming back, right?”

“Not for a long time, I think. But I’ll see you again,” I said. “I’ll find you.”

“Hal, wait…” She trailed off. Then tears sprang to her eyes. I hugged her again.

“I’ll see you again, Noir,” I repeated. “Promise. Take care of yourself.”

I stepped into the stirrup and swung my leg over the saddle. The blue roan danced with anticipation, reading my frantic, flighty energy.

“Goodbye, Noirin,” I said, spurring the horse into a gallop toward the open gate as her goodbye drifted behind me through the cold.

∞∞∞

I thundered through the gate to Sigurd’s family’s steading, leaped off of my mount, and threw the reins over a hitching rail by the stable. I marched up the stairs to the house and knocked on the door. Mureal answered.

“Halja! What a surprise. Are you… Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Is Sigurd here? I need to speak to him.”

“Of course.” She regarded me with concern and a hint of suspicion. “I’ll get him. Would you like to come in?”

“No,’ I answered, too quickly. “Uh, my boots are muddy, and I’ll only be a moment.”

“Alright then.” She smiled and disappeared back into the house.

My heart pounded, and I paced in the yard as I waited.

“Hey,” Sigurd called from the doorway with his usual easy smile. He tugged on his boots and came out. “You alright?” he asked as he approached.

“Yes, I… Oh, I didn’t really plan what to say.” I pushed my wild hair back with my hands, trying to smooth down my flyaways, and my flyaway emotions with them.

“What?” he asked.

“Sigurd, I…,” I stumbled. “I want to get away from here. This place isn’t for me, isn’t for us. I want to start a life with you. Build our own home. Somewhere else.”

“Halja, what are you saying?”

“I want to leave, Sigurd. Get out of here, go to Skeioholm maybe. Find a place all our own.” I grabbed his hands in mine and squeezed. “Come with me.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“What do you mean? We’ve talked about this. Our future, what we’ll do together. And I think now’s the time.”

“But I just saw you, last night. We just… you know. And you seemed fine! You didn’t say anything about this.”

“Yes, and it was really good!” I squeezed his hands again.

He eyed me suspiciously and I sighed. “I got into it with my father and he said some, uh, hurtful things. And he doesn’t want me around anymore and I don’t want to be around, so I’m leaving.

I want you to come with me. You know, be my family. Like you said.”

He dropped my hands and stepped back, heaving a long sigh as he ran a hand through his blond hair. “So you want to just leave? Hal… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“This is my home, Halja.” He gestured around him. “The only place I’ve ever lived. My family, my inheritance. This steading will become mine. It’s where I always thought I’d raise my own kids, you know? I can’t just… just leave.”

“But you said I was your family. You said that.” I felt the tears threatening and I began to panic. This was all going wrong. So, so wrong.

“I know, I know. And I meant it. I just… Hal, we’re not even married.”

“We could change that though. If that’s important to you, we can change that right away.” I stepped toward him, but he stepped back. The motion hit me like a slap.

“No, Hal. Not like this. This isn’t what I pictured. This isn’t what I want.”

“What do you mean?” I heard the desperation in my own quavering voice. I sounded pathetic.

“This isn’t what I want,” he repeated. “I want something normal, something easy. I want to take my time and build my home here with someone. I don’t want some big, dramatic escape.”

I was stunned into silence. I had not prepared myself for this.

“I’m sorry, Halja. Really, I am. But you just…

You’re always in some crisis, you know? You’re always dealing with shit from your family and it’s always some big problem with you.

Always so much of a burden. It’s too much.

I just don’t want to deal with it anymore.

You just… You aren’t what I’m looking for. ”

Where his action had struck me before, those words finished the job.

Deep, unfettered pain ripped through my ribcage.

I felt my heart breaking, every crack, every tear palpable as it did.

It was everything I had always feared being.

Everything I’d fought not to be –– a burden, a mess, an inconvenience.

And straight from the lips of the man I loved.

“I’m sorry, Hal, really. I am.” He shook his head and backed away.

“But you said… You told me I was your family, Sigurd. You don’t just say that to someone. You don’t. You have to mean that.”

He flinched as the tears spilled down my face. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what to say. I stood dumbfounded in the yard as a light snow began to fall, as Sigurd continued to back away.

“Wait,” I said, and began pulling the hair beads he had so recently given me from my braids.

“No, keep those. Please, they were a gift.”

“I don’t want your gifts!” I yelled. “I don’t want anything from you, take them back.”

“But they’re–”

“Take them!” But he didn’t move to take them from me, so I began throwing them into the mud at his feet, one by one, as I cried.

“Halja, come on, don’t do this.”

“I told you I don’t want them, so come get them!”

He finally walked back over and took the rest from my hand, picking up the few from the mud. “Good luck, Hal,” he said. “Be careful out there. Take care of yourself.”

I choked out a sob as he turned and walked back toward the house.

For a long time I was frozen there, watching him go, until I finally uprooted my boots from the snow and ran to the blue roan.

I was overwhelmed with rage and shame. Deep, heavy, idiotic shame.

All I wanted was to be far, far away from Sigurd.

I yanked up the reins and turned for the gate, urging the horse into a gallop.

Tears streamed down my face as we raced toward the forest. How could I have been so stupid? So shortsighted? Of course he didn’t want to go! Of course he wouldn’t leave his home here for someone like me! Of course he didn’t love me! How could he? How could he ever love someone like me?

The whole scene played over and over in my head. His words, the feelings, the desperation, the loss. I was a burden. I was too much. I beat myself with the fresh, sharp memory of it, again and again.

I was coming apart, unraveling at my edges, my seams. All the stories that had made me, the memories that had cobbled me together, were flying away in the wind as I rode.

Peeling and shedding in painful, ragged pieces.

Dissolving as I fled the false, broken scene of my childhood.

I was terrified. I did not know what would be left of me, what would remain at my core, when all this coming apart ended, or if it ever would.

My hair whipped back behind me, braids unraveling and flying loose without the beads to hold them as the shame within me grew more monstrous. I must have been a feral visage, hair, tears, and snow flying as we raced headlong into the coming winter.