Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [31]
I'd been there an hour or so when a fair-haired lad hobbled into the room leaning on a crutch, one leg in a splint—one of the Academy's scholars whose injury had prevented him from taking part in the raid.
"Oh!" He flushed at the sight of me, having taken a while to notice. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."
I smiled. "I'm good at not being seen."
"You're the—" His flush deepened.
"The witch's daughter?" I suggested.
He laughed self-consciously. "My mother would tan my hide for bad manners. Forgive me. I'm Fionn."
"Moirin," I said.
Despite the crutch, Fionn managed a bow. "Well met, my lady."
He selected a text of his own and for a time we read in companionable silence. I caught him stealing glances at me. As the day wore on, sun slanted through the windows, turning his fair hair to spun gilt. It looked as fine and silken as a girl's, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. I tried not to think it, but that only made it worse.
"Will you be studying here?" he asked politely after a while.
"No." I shook my head. "I think not."
"Pity." Fionn smiled. His lips were not as full as Cillian's, but they had a firm, pleasing shape. "You would be a splendid addition."
I wanted him.
The realization jolted me. It was an impersonal desire—I didn't even know the lad. But he was pretty and well spoken, and the urge to exert the power of my gift over him was there. And in that moment, a deeper awareness took root and blossomed in me. It wasn't only Cillian's life I didn't want. It was his possessiveness. My mother had said it. He wants you, all of you, all to himself.
She was right.
Aislinn was right.
I sat there dumbstruck at the obviousness and simplicity of it. I had no wish to belong to Cillian and Cillian alone. Mayhap it was the prompting of the goddess my unknown father served, or mayhap it was only that I was sly and fickle after all. Whatever the truth, I could never be the wife he wanted, proper or otherwise. And it wasn't fair to string him along like a trout on a line. I needed to let him go. To set him free to find someone who could love him with her whole heart as he deserved.
"Moirin?" Fionn inquired. "What is it?"
I was staring at him without seeing him. "'Tis naught," I said, collecting myself with an effort. "Forgive me, I was woolgathering." I closed the book I had been reading, rose, and replaced it carefully on the shelf where I'd found it. "My thanks," I said, inclining my head. "You've helped me to discover an important truth."
He stared back at me, nicely shaped lips parted. "I have?"
"Aye." I paused beside him to run a lock of his fair hair through my fingers. It felt as nice as it looked. "Aye, you have."
"Wait!" Fionn called after me as I left, reaching for his crutch, but I ignored him. I felt wretched and scared all at once, but I felt something else, too. As much as my heart ached at the thought of losing Cillian forever, in one guilty corner it soared with a newfound sense of freedom. I would wait. I would pass another night here. I wouldn't spoil his triumph. For one more night, I would be his and his alone.
But on the morrow, I would make an end to it.
"Moirin." Lady Caitlin greeted me sourly in the great hall, carrying a basket laden with the rolled bandages Aislinn and I had made.
"My lady." I gave her a rueful smile. "Have no fear, you'll be rid of me soon enough. I mean to leave your son alone."
She, too, stared. "You do?"
"I do," I said. Just saying it gave me a pang. I steeled myself against it, my eyes stinging. "Only grant him this night's happiness, I beg you. Please believe me when I tell you I take no pleasure in breaking your son's heart."
Her throat worked. "I would like to."
"Then do," I said simply.
Ah, stone and sea! I would that our tale, Cillian's and mine, had ended thusly as I'd written it in my head—hurtful, yet fair.
Would that it had.
It didn't.
The raiding party returned