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I clenched my jaw. “They did that often.”
“I knew it could be dangerous to give you something of his. I knew there was a chance she would take it from you and neither of us would ever see it again… but I couldn’t bear the thought of you not having even a tiny piece of your father to keep with you. So I gave it to you and told you to keep it a secret. I told you it belonged to him. And then I stayed with you until a staff member unlocked the kitchen door and you could go back inside.”
Tiny bits of memory started creeping back as I fought hard to remember. “You kept me warm.”
“It is a moment I cherish.” Sloga ducked his head. “I was desperate to know you, but my presence was a bitter reminder to the Carlin that she hadn’t succeeded in breaking Faulis fully. It only made her angrier. Made her treat you worse. But that brief time with you in the snow, being able to keep you warm and safe for those few moments, meant everything to me.”
I swallowed, my throat thick, looking down at the portrait of my father again. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“I don’t deserve your thanks, and I don’t ask for it.” Sloga seemed to try and compose himself, taking a deep breath and carefully rifling through the papers again. “Now, would you like to see the rest?”
It was dawn when we finally stopped talking. I was beyond the point of exhaustion, but Sloga still told me, with gentle sternness, to get some sleep as he led me to a fur-lined pallet.
“You will be alone,” he assured me. “This is where Idony sleeps when she stays. I am going to sit outside and enjoy the sunrise. No one will disturb you while you rest.”
I nodded, sinking down heavily onto the side of the bed. “I appreciate it.”
“Would you like…” Sloga twisted his long, spindly fingers together. “Would you like some of his clothes to wear when you wake? Yours look a little worse for wear. Especially your boots.”
Yes. I was desperate to have anything of his that I could. But I forced myself to politely say, “I don’t want to take his things from you.”
“I have plenty, Lonan. And I want you to have them. He would want you to have anything of his. Let me fetch them.”
He disappeared through an arched doorway that seemed to lead deeper into the earth. When he returned, he was carrying a stack of clothing and a pair of worn black leather boots with copper eyelets.
I stood and took them, running my fingers over the neatly folded cream muslin shirt. “I’ll take care of them.”
“I know you will.” Sloga gently grasped my shoulder, then dropped his hand as he turned to leave. “There is a washroom through that door when you wake. Sleep well, Lonan.”
Once he was gone, I carefully set the clothing down and pulled off my ruined boots, then set my weapons down beside the pallet. My feet ached, and my skin and hair felt grimy, but I crawled into the furs, turned my back on the dying fire, and promptly passed out before my mind could start turning over everything I had learned.
When I woke, I could hear faint, muffled voices outside the sidhe. I tensed, already reaching for a sword before I realised they were both familiar. Sloga’s deep rumble was followed by the higher-pitched lilt of Idony.
I was still groggy as I sat up and pushed my lank hair back from my face, but the gnawing ache of thirst and hunger was gone. Sloga had fed me a constant supply of dried meat, cheese and fruits as he told me about my father, and I had eaten and drunk by rote as I listened to him with rapt attention.
The fire had died, but the sidhe was still warm as I stood and stretched out my limbs. After using the washroom, I carefully unfolded my father’s clothes and put them on. The cream muslin shirt, a pair of brown leather trousers, and some grey cotton socks that had been darned more than once. After tugging on the boots and lacing them, I stared down at my frame. I didn’t look like myself—these weren’t colours I usually wore—but… it felt like I had suddenly shed a skin of my own. One thick and heavy and oily. One that had been weighing me down.
I felt lighter.
“There is our sleeping prince,” Idony teased as I left the sidhe, tying my hair back from my face. “Gods, you look like him.”
“Did you sleep well, Lonan?” Sloga asked. The pair of them were picking blackberries, a small willow trug on the ground between them, already a quarter full.
“Yes.” I hovered awkwardly, not sure what to do. Idony’s basket from yesterday was resting by the sidhe door, its contents covered by a scrap of cloth with fraying edges.
She saw me notice and nodded at it. “I brought breakfast. Well, lunch now. You must have needed the sleep.”
“I kept him up all night sharing stories.” Sloga chuckled and dropped several blackberries into the trug.
“I miss those days.” Idony sucked blackberry juice off her thumb as she made her way over to pick up the basket. She grinned at me. “There’s nothing quite like being drunk on wine and hearing stories of when time began from this one. Maybe once you’re settled again, we can do it. The three of us.”
“Yes,” I said desperately before I could stop myself. “And Ash. Ash would love that.”
Idony rolled her eyes. “Oh, alright. I suppose I’d better ‘watch my mouth’ around the seelie king, eh?”
I flushed, feeling like a petulant child for saying that to her when she was far older than me and had been friends with my father. I stiffly said, “Apologies. I was tired and on edge—”
“Don’t fret over it, prince.” She patted my arm. “Now, lunch. Shall we eat out here?”
