Page 78 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“I just don’t understand them,” I admitted, though I wasn’t talking to them but to myself. “For all that they stand for — unity, peace, and acceptance — why are they so violent?”

What if my friends were wrong? What if there was more to the story? And most damning of all, what if my friends knew this and yet still stood firm on their hatred of the Rachainn?

“Well—” Shea slapped her legs before rising to her feet. “Shall we go poke around the preparations?”

With a groan at the thought of somehow descending down the tree, I nodded and let Niamh lift me to my feet.

28

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Shea led the way, Niamh and I trailing behind her as we shimmied our way through Choilltean, aiming to look as unimportant as possible.

“I had a friend, back in the human world,” I said, not truly sure of where I was going with it.

“That’s good. I didn’t doubt that you did.”

“She’s dead, now.”

Niamh tried to hide her shock and hint of pity from her face, but it just ended up contorting her features into something unrecognizable. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

We ducked under a pixie who was carrying half a tree, caring little for how wide the trunk was on the pathway.

“I didn’t think I’d make another friend again, if I’m being honest.”

Niamh only watched me, her head tilted slightly to the right as curiosity flashed in her eyes.

“So I just wanted to thank you, actually.”

Before her mouth could drop completely open, she snapped it up and smiled at me. “If I’m being honest, I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“Me too.”

She tried to resume the skip in her step as we picked up the pace, trying our best not to lose Shea amongst the busy streets.

“Is there anything you wish to see? In your last few days?”

I screeched to a stop. “I have weeks left.”

Shea continued on, not yet noticing that Niamh and I had halted in the middle of the main road.

Niamh took a small step towards me. “Killian didn’t tell you? Raegan wants you sent home before the fighting begins.”

Contemplating that, I let my eyes fall away from Niamh and to the chaos around us. Bodies moved in every direction, some carrying weapons, others carrying materials. People danced around one another, partaking in some silent routine that suggested this was normal, that they had done this a hundred times before. Horses trotted by, harnessed into wagons that heaved a variety of items, driven by pixies with reins of leaves in their hands.

This was their world, their war.

Not mine.

Killian had told me that King Ronan’s tour of chaos had lasted decades. While I didn’t want it to, it was possible this one would as well. Pixies were going to die. Pixies I knew, pixies I had come to care about more than life itself, could die.

They didn’t need me. Killian didn’t need to spend every waking moment wondering about my safety. Raegan didn’t need my judgement lingering over his shoulder with every decision he had to make.

Maybe he was right. I was better off back in the human world, content to pretend this had been nothing more than a dream.

But why wait? They were all busy, that much was obvious. And the thought of having a long, painful goodbye destroyed me