Page 77 of Why Broken Wings Fray

I nodded a few times to signal that I understood, but I didn’t. I would never truly understand the cycle of life, the hours, days, weeks, years spent existing only for it to disappear in only a single blink. It made me wish, more than ever, that Niamh was in Mag Mell, that she was granted her warrior’s rest, an eternity in sanctuary.

“Last Imbolc–” Shea began, smiling to herself and shaking her head to free some blood-red hair from her eyes. “Niamh was in charge of the fire-lighting.” Shea had to stop just to muffle her laughter, yet another thing that sounded wrong coming from her. “She lit half of the Choilltean’s trees on fire, beat herself down with disappointment, then cried for five hours.”

I laughed along with Shea. “That’s awful.”

Shea shrugged. “That was Niamh.”

“I wish she was here,” I admitted, having never actually said the words aloud and immediately regretting it as Shea stiffened her movements at my side.

Shea, finally, touched me. It was a subtle placement of her hand on the bend of my elbow, her fingers tightening ever so slightly. “Me too.”

~

Our group moved through the streets of Cluaineach, Shea and Aisling constantly taking up defensive positions at my side whenever we crossed the path of other pixies. They continued to glare at me, to offer unkind, snarky comments and contemplate ridding the world of my natural evil, but Shea’s low growls and Aisling’s revealed fangs often kept them moving. Only one, a male with bright green hair and near-yellow eyes, decided he would try and pick a fight with my two bodyguards. He lost quickly and embarrassingly. And, to my surprise, it was Aisling that tossed him to the ground like he was a leaf.

Liam and Ciara took up the front of our little party, the two of them guiding us to various buildings made of mushroom stems, fallen and solidified flower petals, or burrows that were built into the natural bend of the earth. For one, we entered to discuss the food that would be served. For another, we spoke of who would like to play the jigs. The most recent one was to what I could only describe as a seamstress, who knew Raegan’s measurements and nodded when Shea gave her the directions for what he would wear.

Four hours later, my stomach grumbling and my body exhausted at the thought of enduring much more party planning, the five of us found a small, empty space in Cluaineach and collapsed down in the grass.

Ciara and Liam had been bickering back and forth about whether or not it was appropriate to host Imbolc, considering we were a few months past the traditional holiday and it seemed insulting to host it late. Aisling and Shea were taking quiet bets on if Liam and Ciara were soon to get into a fist-fight. I, on the other hand, lay flat on my back, stared up at the blue sky above, and watched as clouds floated to-and-fro, each of them with their own unique shapes and stories.

“You are coming tomorrow, right?” Aisling asked as she slid away from her conversation with Shea, pushing her bubblegum-pink hair from her shoulders as she shimmied down into a position at my side.

“Of course.”

“I don’t think she has a choice,” Liam added, taking to the other side of me and fitting himself there where he, too, looked up at the sky. “Our King doesn’t seem to want to spend more than five minutes out of her company.”

Shea growled from where she sat at our feet, going so far as to punch Liam’s shin. He only snickered and pulled his knees up.

“It’s good,” Ciara said. “That he’s getting out and about, I mean. I was hoping one of these days he would spend a few nights out with Killian.”

One brow flicked up, I pulled my chin to my chest to see Ciara where she stood against the horizon. “Why?”

A bitter laugh fell from her as she twirled some hair around her finger. “Rumour has it, he’s taken to a life of abstinence as of late. It’s a whisper across the kingdom, that it has been an age since he even dared look at a female, let alone commit to bedding one.”

I frowned at that. I wasn’t the only one frustrated with her commentary, as Shea picked up a small rock and hurled it at Ciara. “That is my King you speak of.”

Ciara threw her hands up, cackled, and rolled her eyes.

I could still feel Raegan’s lips on me, the softness of his skin along my mouth, down my neck, across my shoulders. And there, if I looked, I would still be able to see the faint outline of his fangs.

“Ignore them,” Aisling muttered, her pink eyes full of evil as she glared at the two females who had taken to arguing. “I think it is great. I believe that Raegan has long deserved to find enjoyable company.”

“You are fond of him?”

“Absolutely. It took a while for me to get over… Well, what he did. But I had always dreamed of being in his ceadan, even while he resided in Choilltean. What a great honour, I mean! To serve him.”

My cheeks flushed, my mind diving into the early hours of my day and the less-than-pure ways I would have begged to serve him.

“You will stay? As long as you can?” Aisling’s voice cut through my thoughts, severing that brief daydream and the heat it flooded my body with.

“Yes. If I can be honest with you, Aisling, I don’t think I can leave.”

She turned onto her side, the grass beneath us bordering her fuchsia-tinted features. “What do you mean?”

“Raegan… He – well, I – oh, I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Her eyes, big, round, and animated, blinked at me.