Page 95 of Where Broken Wings Fly

His eyes snapped up to mine. Bright and dark, everything he had ever been all wrapped up in that one look. “I’m angry.”

“You’re allowed to be–”

“At him.” He glared down at the King. “At his death.”

I tried my best to hide the puzzlement on my face, instead pretending to itch my eyebrow.

In a way, I understood. I was angry at Charlotte, too. Once the pain and the anguish faded, I was angry at her for leaving me. For making me walk this earth without her at my side. It’s a selfish emotion, one that you can’t truly understand and one that you feel nothing but guilt for admitting. So I never admitted it, not out loud, not like how Raegan was now.

“He’s damned all of Saoghal. You know what this means, don’t you?”

I was about to say that I did when the throne room doors burst open once more and Killian strode through them, followed by a pixie that looked more their age than any other I had seen.

In every way but literally he looked like the bark of a tree. Such texture spread over every inch of revealed flesh, even his mangled, brown hair was starting to thin, his eyes cloudy and no longer capable of holding a true colour.

When Killian shot me a questioning look I finally rose, taking a large step back away from the King and Raegan, before retreating to Killian’s side and pressing close to him.

“So the rumours are true,” the stranger said.

“It’s already out there?” Raegan frowned, all evidence of vulnerability and sorrow wiped from his face as he rose to his feet. “That’s not good.”

“We will need to perform the rites. And soon, if it is spreading at the rate it is.”

“Tomorrow, Druid.” Raegan straightened, clearing his throat once before continuing. “We shall have rites of the dead performed tomorrow at first light. Proceeding the celebration, let us perform the throne rites.”

“Are you sure, Your–”

“Yes.”

The Druid nodded to Raegan, attempting a bow but only making it halfway before his back cracked and he returned upright. “Very well.”

~

Killian walked with me through the town, neither one of us saying much, just floating from place to place, following the path of fireflies and listening to the world go quiet as the sun dipped down beyond the horizon. While the pixies had been buzzing with the news of their beloved King dying, the streets were now ghostly bare as most retreated to their homes — in the trees, along the streets, or in the burrows — for their various routines of mourning and grief.

Both Killian and I had wanted to stay with Raegan. While I hadn’t been sure before, after seeing his face and listening to his hollow words, I knew he needed us more than ever. But the Prince threw us out of the throne room, threatening Killian with the dungeon when he refused to leave.

So all we could do was wander. We walked past the small cafe that we had sat on that first day, where everything had been magical and magnificent, where the world had felt so large and us so small. Then we made our way down towards the barn, creeping through the blackened woods until we made it to the clearing and saw creatures both familiar and unfamiliar to me.

The absence of Gaoth was as obvious as ever as we moved into the barn, Killian stopping at the fourth stall and looking into it as if his faithful caraid was in there. I said nothing, only stepped to his side and took his hand in mine, squeezing it ever so slightly.

Both Killian and Raegan’s grief had become my own. Stronger than just a bystander or a witness's grief, I felt it within myself as if it was someone I loved that had died. Which was when I finally admitted to myself that these pixies, these friends that I had made, had wormed their way into my rotten heart. In a way, I was somewhat relieved at the thought of the impending memory wipe — at least it wouldn’t hurt when I was torn from them.

But that would always be the thing about loving people, wouldn’t it? Was it better to have never known them, to never have loved them, and not feel the loss? Or was their friendship worth all of the pain that would come?

That was when I let out a deep breath and leant against Killian, my head on his shoulder, hoping I could commit this feeling to memory. Hoping I could remember the curve of his neck, the wild grin on his face at all times, the gleam to his eyes that was childish in every way but pure and innocent. None of it would matter, in the end, but perhaps I could convince my own flesh to remember the feeling. In my darkest of hours, perhaps my body would call that feeling forth, even when I didn’t remember where it had come from.

~

We were almost back to the castle when Killian said the first thing in hours.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

There were so many things that he could have been referring to, so I opted to wait for him to explain before I bothered asking.

“How would the Rachainn have known he would be under-guarded?”

I was afraid I knew the answer to that, already. So I chose not to respond, again.