Page 47 of Crownless Heirs

Kyron’s fist connected with Maelan’s arm. Maelan hit him back. Within seconds, it turned into a childish back and forth, neither willing to back down until they were both cursing. Sorcha watched in disbelief as they dissolved into full-blown hysteria, punching each other between gasps for air.

She tried to keep a straight face, but they were a disaster. Maelan had doubled over, tears in his eyes, while Kyron shoved him hard enough to tip him back in his chair and himself.

Thud. Thud.

Maelan hit the floor, wheezing, his face red from laughing so hard. Kyron was just as bad, still sprawled on the ground, his laughter echoing through the cafe. Sorcha had no idea what to do with these two. And then, she couldn’t help it. She started laughing. Other patrons in the little cafe turned to stare, whispering to one another, but none of them cared. They all needed this moment. And Sorcha let herself take it all in.

23

Sleepover

Leaving the cafe, the night air hung sweet around them; a blend of flowers, spice, and murmured conversation. Kyron, Maelan, and Sorcha walked side by side. Kyron and Maelan stealing glances at her, their usual easy chatter turning hesitant and fragmented, as if they were suddenly unsure of how to navigate her presence. So much had happened, and yet no one knew how to approach the conversation; they simply carried on following the winding mountain path toward the home of the Goddess Áine. When they reached the overlook, the landscape stretched wide beneath a velvet sky, where stars reflected in the dew-dappled light. Flowers swayed gently in the night breeze, their colors softened by the darkness. Together, they turned and stepped inside, where Aine was waiting.

The home was even more breathtaking in the night’s glow. Sorcha’s gaze landed on a bouquet; their petals illuminated the room with a faint white light. She let her eyes roam, taking in the details: ivy curling along the staircase, glowing blooms entwined between its vines, and lanterns dripping silver sap that cast a soft shimmer across the walls. The sweet scent of hawthorn blossoms from the tree dominating the entrance perfumed the air. Sorcha inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth of the moment. It felt as if they had stepped into a painting, a dream spun from the most perfect summer night.

Aine greeted them with a quiet smile, and Sorcha struggled to reconcile what she was seeing with what she had heard. The goddess was breathtaking, possessing a flawless beauty so stark it felt unnatural. Firelight caught the soft glow of her skin and the elegance of her features; it was the kind of grace that simply didn’t belong to mortals. Sorcha had heard whispers that Áine’s sisters were even more beautiful, but looking at her now, she couldn’t begin to imagine how.

Áine’s gaze settled on her, lingering. Sorcha felt the heavy weight of it as those piercing eyes moved over her, taking in every detail of the woman standing before her.

Kyron shifted beside her, about to step forward, when Aine finally spoke.

“Welcome. Welcome. It has been an age since anyone from beyond these walls has stayed for a visit.” She gestured toward the room behind her, where the warmth of a great hearth flickered in the dim light.

They stepped inside the chamber; it stretched wide and circular, its walls lined with towering shelves filled with books. Glowing vines wove through the wooden beams overhead, casting a soft, silver light across the space. At its center, a fire burned in the massive stone hearth. As Sorcha watched, a log from the pile beside it shifted, rolling into the fire without a single hand touching it. Aine motioned for them to take their seats in the plush chairs and sofas arranged around a small, ornate table at the center of the room. With a flick of her fingers, a tray of tea appeared. Gold and porcelain teacups gleamed under the soft glow of lantern light, the matching teapot levitating as it poured steaming liquid into each cup. One by one, the cups floated toward them.

Sorcha hesitated for a moment before taking hers, the rich scents of cinnamon and vanilla flooding her senses. Across from her, Kyron and Maelan lifted their cups, sipping quietly. Maelan lounged comfortably, shoulders at ease, entirely at home in this space. In contrast, Kyron looked as though he might bolt at any moment. His eyes remained locked on his mother, his foot shifting against the floor, one leg bouncing ever so slightly. Sorcha studied them both, her fingers wrapped around the delicate teacup as she took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through her palms.

Aine stood before the hearth, the golden light flickering against her features as she turned to face them.

“I understand you’ll be staying the night before departing tomorrow,” she said, her gaze sweeping over them. “So I’d like to go over the ground rules.”

She paused, making sure everyone was listening.

“Each of you has your own room. There will be no mingling under my roof. I’d rather not tempt fate, unless, of course, the married couple objects.”

Sorcha choked on her tea. Maelan coughed violently, barely keeping his drink from spilling. Kyron shot his mother a look, his expression caught between exasperation and embarrassment.

Aine waved a hand dismissively, already moving on.

“As for the rest of the house, you’re free to explore and help yourselves to anything within, except for the plants. Do not cut them; do not take them. Otherwise, be at ease.”

She whistled a melodic sound that echoed through the chamber. A moment later, a great swan glided into the room, its snowy wings folding neatly against its sides.

“This little bird,” Aine said smoothly, nodding toward the creature, “will guide you to your rooms. You’ll see others like it throughout the house. They’ll keep an eye on you and assist if needed.”

The swan lifted its head. When it spoke, its voice was smooth and articulate. “If you require anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Maelan set his cup down, studying the bird with interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be one of the Children of Lir, would you?”

Aine and the swan exchanged a glance before Aine chuckled softly.

Maelan’s smile widened as he picked up his tea once more. “How interesting,” he purred, taking a slow sip.

Sorcha watched as the swan exited the room, its elegant form disappearing beyond the doorway. Aine smiled again, her gaze settling on Sorcha.

“I’d like to say it has been a pleasure meeting you, Sorcha. Would you care to join me for a walk around the grounds?”

Kyron shot to his feet. The sudden movement sent a jolt through the room, his chair scraping against the floor. He strode toward his mother, leaning in to whisper only she could hear. Sorcha couldn’t make out the words, but the way Aine’s expression changed made the space around them feel suddenly unsettled.