AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I am not a waterfall,” Tir snapped. “I’m human. Minus a teaspoon.”
“I don’t want to know what you’re doing with the teaspoons. He’s absolutely pining.” Cedric sighed, not unsympathetic, and leaned a shoulder against the wall next to Tir’s already claimed door. “He misses you. Talk to him.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t even talk to him?”
“I love him. I would die for him.”
“You did.”
“I always knew as much.” Tir swatted a compassionate hand away from a touch. “The soothsayers told me. You’ll love a human prince, and you’ll die for him, and that will bring your kingdoms closer together—” And then he looked surprised. No: not surprised. Truly, profoundly, shocked.
Cedric said, “What’s wrong?”
“I said—I wasn’t thinking, and I said—but it didn’t…” Tir touched his temple, a skim of fingers over a non-existent punishment. “Now I completely don’t understand. I thought—I wasn’t done, but…if I’m allowed to say…”
“You’re allowed to tell us,” Cedric echoed, catching up. “Are you?”
“I…don’t know. I really don’t…is it only because I died? Because this body is…new?” Tir looked at his hand, turned it over, examined flesh and bone and thin fingers as if never having known them before. “Maybe the bindings don’t work any longer…but if it’s only that, I still shouldn’t say, in case I make it turn out wrong…”
“I’m confused again.”
“They told me. That I’d die for him—for the prince I fell in love with. And that would bring us closer. As I said. I assume that last part’s why Oliver has magic now.” Tir stopped to breathe. Curled fingertips in. In distress. “I knew I had to die. I never expected to come back. I don’t know what to do next.”
Cedric held up both hands. “Way too metaphysical for me. Way. But I will say this. You need to tell Oliver everything you just told me.”
“Oliver is the last person who can ever know,” Tir retorted. “Oliver deserves a proper future. A real human True Love. The life he was meant to have, without me. Without my interference.”
“He saw you in the Pool! On his Quest!”
“Because I shouldn’t’ve come! I was in the way. I made it go wrong. I don’t know.” With a frustrated absentminded rumpling of hands through hair: “My prophecy said nothing with regard to whether he’d love me back. Nothing. He deserves to try again.”
Cedric stared at him. “You think it didn’t work?”
“I know it didn’t.” Tir turned away, gazed at cavorting naked lovers in the tapestry over Cedric’s bed. “He’s never—it’s not me. It’s never been me. And it shouldn’t have been me. He should’ve seen the person he’ll give his heart to. I know none of your Heirs have ever married a fairy. I understand as much. It’s just that—I can’t even help him, I can’t do enough to protect him, I’m not what I was and I’m not enough—”
“Tir,” Cedric interrupted, with a force he might’ve picked up from voice-projection lessons with the acting-troupe. “Tir, listen. What if he does love you?”
Tir refused to look up, despite Cedric’s hand finally successfully landing on his arm. “Don’t be absurd.”
Oliver’s sight—doubled, veiled, overlain—flickered and rippled. Lifted, dwindling.
That was all right, that was enough—he’d heard it, he’d heard enough, he knew how Tir felt, he knew—
He did not know how he’d deserved this. But he couldn’t doubt it.
He stayed in place for one more second, simply breathing, propped up on his wall, taking it in. The wall gave him a supportive shoulder.
Tir, he thought. Tir—
They could have this. They could be given this: joy, here, after everything.
He wanted to grab it with both hands and never let go. He wanted to paint a masterwork. He wanted to buy Tir a dozen terrible novels. He wanted to sing about love at the top of his lungs.
He dove down the stairs. Reckless abandon.
He hammered at Cedric’s door. His brother opened it, not instantly, doubtless giving Tir time to get out of the way.
