Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

E nya woke up with a start, sitting upright on a bed that wasn’t hers, in a room that was only vaguely familiar. At first, disoriented and still in the haze of sleep, she didn’t know what had woken her, but it quickly became clear to her that the source of her sudden awakening was Cillian.

Cillian, who was screaming in his sleep, tossing and turning so violently next to her that all the covers were bunched and wound tightly around him.

Before Enya could do anything about it, Cillian woke up, too, springing up from the bed. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled for air, and his forehead was drenched in sweat, strands of hair sticking to the skin. His grey eyes were wide and fearful as they took in his surroundings, and he only began to calm down when he realized where he was, falling back onto the bed with a weary sigh.

Enya said nothing. She had witnessed his terror and she didn’t think words could offer him any comfort. Instead of speaking, she slowly reached for him and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. At first, she thought he might pull away, but before long, Cillian tightened his grip on her hand, holding onto her for dear life.

For a long time, they stayed like that, in silence. It was near dawn, the very first of the day’s light just peeking in through the window and as Enya waited for him to calm his breathing, the room turned brighter and brighter until she could see the haunted look in his gaze. When Cillian spoke again, his voice was rough and quiet, barely audible over the crackle of the last remnants of the fire.

“I didnae mean tae startle ye,” he said.

“I’m nae concerned about that,” Enya assured him. “Dae ye wish tae tell me what is wrong?”

Once again, Cillian fell silent and Enya thought he wouldn’t tell her what he had seen. This time too, though, he proved her wrong.

“Me sister,” he said. “I had… I had a sister. Isabella. She is long gone, though.”

A pang of pain pierced through Enya’s heart as she looked at Cillian struggle to speak, swelling as though he was trying to push down his grief. She moved a little closer to him, still holding onto his hand, wishing her powers could also fix this kind of pain.

“What happened tae her?”

“She was killed in a raid,” Cillian said. “An’ I… I couldnae save her. I couldnae dae anythin’ fer her. I tried tae but the truth is I failed her, Thora. I failed her an’ there is naethin’ I can dae tae bring her back.”

As he spoke, Enya could see the glint of tears in his eyes, but Cillian was quick to close them and clench his teeth, trying to will them away. His grief was palpable, almost contagious. It seeped into the air around them, weighing down on them both.

Enya was certain there was nothing Cillian could have done to save his sister, otherwise she would be alive. However, the regret was eating him up from the inside, that much was obvious, and she didn’t think reassuring him that he had done his best would be enough or even what he needed at all. She understood him, though. She, too, felt like she had let someone down.

“Some wounds take a long time tae heal,” she said. “Some may never heal completely. We all carry regret with us over the people we have loved and lost.”

Cillian opened his eyes then and looked at her, his gaze so piercing that Enya felt as though she was being flayed wide open. In that moment, she could have sworn that he knew; he knew how she had failed her mother, how she couldn’t save her, how all the siblings had failed to save their parents, though logically, he couldn’t have possibly known. She could have sworn they understood each other perfectly, even without sharing any other words.

“Will it always hurt, then?” Cillian asked.

“It might,” said Enya. “But wounds hurt less every day.”

Nodding, Cillian buried himself deeper under the covers and Enya joined him, lying back down onto the mattress. She watched him for a while, Cillian with his eyes closed, until his breathing evened out. Only then did she close her own eyes, letting sleep claim her once more.

The entire time, neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

When Enya woke a short while later, Cillian was already gone, the bed cold and empty next to her. The storm had passed, though, and though the sky was still cloudy, the day was bright, with no threat of another snowfall. Pushing herself out of bed, she was glad to find that even though it was still a little chilly, the draft that had ravaged the castle the previous day was now gone. She was also surprised to see that someone—most likely Cillian himself—had tossed some wood into the fire so that it still burned, and Enya walked over to the fireplace, her hands rubbing up and down her arms as she traced a short path back and forth.

Through the window, she could hear laughter and shouts, and it was then that it occurred to her that the hunt was meant to take place that very day. It was still early in the morning, just an hour or so past the first light of the day, but Enya dressed quickly and headed out to the courtyard where everyone else was already gathering.

She had already agreed to join the hunt. The thought of killing any living thing for fun was against everything she stood for, but the hunt was a great tradition of the MacDonald Clan. Not only were they famous for their hunters, but they were also proud of them and their skills. If Enya refused to participate, it would be frowned upon by everyone in the clan, not just Cillian.

The words that woman had spoken to her echoed in her ears still, reminding her that she couldn’t let down Cillian’s people even if she was actively trying to anger him. Then again, her plans to infuriate him had been derailed for a while now, ever since she had started becoming fond of him. Belatedly, she realized that in the past few days, she had done nothing to advance her plan as she should have.

This isnae the day fer this. If I must work on this plan, I shall dae so on the morrow.

“Thora! Come!” a familiar voice called and Enya turned to see Duncan gesturing at her to come closer. She approached where he stood along with Cillian and Archibald, but before she could greet any of them, Duncan whipped his hand up and held something over her and Cillian’s head. Upon closer inspection, Enya saw it was a bough of mistletoe and she frowned as everyone else around her froze.

“Put that away,” Cillian demanded through clenched teeth. Next to him, Archibald had that same pinched expression he always did when he sensed he would have to step between the other two men.

“Ye ken the rules, me laird,” said Duncan in a mockingly sweet voice.

“What rules?” Enya asked.

“Dae ye nae have this tradition in yer clan?” Duncan asked and he looked so pleased with himself that Enya could only guess whatever the tradition was, it couldn’t possibly be good. “This is called a kissin’ bough. If ye find yerself underneath one, ye must kiss the person next tae ye.”

Enya glanced at Cillian in horror before she could stop herself. The thought of kissing him had been plaguing her for days, but now that Duncan had orchestrated this, she couldn’t even consider the possibility of going along with it. They were all standing in the middle of the courtyard along with everyone else. So many eyes were glued on them, watching their every move, and Enya didn’t know how Duncan expected her to kiss Cillian in front of all those people for the first time.

Besides, Cillian seemed just as unwilling to kiss her as she was.

“It doesnae count when ye dae it on purpose,” he told Duncan. “I said put it away.”

Instead of answering Cillian, Duncan turned to Archibald. “What dae ye think? Does it count?”

“Dinnae involve me in this,” Archibald said, ever the diplomat. “Figure it out amongst yerselves, but dae it fast. We must begin the hunt.”

Cillian and Duncan stared each other down, neither man willing to compromise. The clansmen and women were also staring expectantly at them, waiting to see what would happen, and for Enya, stalling was much more excruciating than anything else. She felt as though all eyes were on her, everyone’s attention hanging heavy on her shoulders.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she stood on her tiptoes and gave Cillian a quick, innocent peck on the corner of his lips. The contact was brief, barely felt, but Cillian gasped against her and when Enya pulled back, her lips still tingled with the ghost of that kiss.

Her cheeks heated under the coos of the crowd, but Cillian, Duncan, and Archibald were all still frozen as none of them had expected her to do such a thing. None of them knew what to say and if she were honest, Enya didn’t know either, so instead of lingering, she fled the scene and busied herself with the last preparations for the hunt. It was the only way she could keep herself sane. If she stayed around Cillian, she didn’t know what terrible confession might come out of her mouth.

Why did I dae that? I should have simply left!

Now, she felt flushed despite the cold and yet she still trembled, dreading the moment she would have to face Cillian again. She could still hear that gasp in her mind, that soft sound he had made when her lips touched his, and she was certain it would haunt her forever.

Was Cillian thrown into the same panic, she wondered? Surely not. A small kiss like that could not possibly cause him the same turmoil it had caused Enya and that knowledge frustrated her even more.

Damn Duncan!

“Me lady,” one of the men involved in the hunt called and Enya jumped, fingers slipping from where she was securing the saddle on her horse. She turned to face the man with a questioning smile, though she was certain her expression was more of a grimace of pain. “Are ye ready? It is time tae depart.”

“Aye,” Enya said. “I’ll be ready in a few moments.”

Once she had her saddle secured, their large party left the castle to head into the woods where the hunt would take place. After a short ride, they reached a large clearing where the servants had already set up tables and benches, along with food and drink, and even a large tent in case they needed shelter. Enya dismounted her horse, handing it to the stable boy until it would be time for the hunt, but when she turned around to join the other hunters, she fell into a wall of muscle.

Though she was not proud of it, she screamed. In her defense, though, Cillian had snuck up to her, remaining silent and unseen until the very last moment, when she couldn’t escape him.

“Good luck,” he told her with a sharp nod of his head.

“I dinnae need luck.”

She spoke those words before she could even think better of it, her first reflex to go against whatever Cillian was saying. Afterwards, the air around them shifted immediately, Cillian’s mood souring as it always did when Enya was being combative.

“Is that so?” he asked, straightening up to his full height as he placed his hands on his hips and stared down at her. “Ye’re very confident ye will bring somethin’ back.”

Now it was Enya’s turn to feel that first spark of irritation, her lips pursing into a thin line. She was no hunter, but she knew how to use a bow and an arrow, and her aim had always been good, if not quite perfect. Cillian was only doubting her abilities because he saw her as nothing but a spoiled noble girl and knew nothing about who she truly was.

I suppose that is me fault.

She had been the one to construct this idea of her as a spoiled girl, someone quick to demands and anger, someone naive and even simple-minded, but he had seen through her from the start. He should know better than to think she couldn’t bring even a single rabbit back.

“I will bet on it,” she said with a smug smile and that seemed to capture Cillian’s attention. He leaned a little closer to her, inquiring eyes peering into hers.

“Will ye?” he asked. “An’ what dae ye desire if ye win?”

“I desire ye tae declare in front o’ everyone that ye were wrong tae doubt me,” Enya said. “An’ an apology in front o’ the clan.”

“Very well,” said Cillian without any hint of hesitation, which could only mean he didn’t think he would lose this bet even for a minute. “Dae ye wish tae ken what I desire?”

“What?” Enya said, already so worked up that it came out as a clipped bark, the sound of her own voice foreign in her ears.

“A kiss.”

For a moment, Enya thought she must have misheard Cillian. Surely, he couldn’t mean it. And yet there he was, looking at her with all the smugness of a man who knew what he wanted and knew he was going to get it.

It was a bad idea. Of course, it was, and yet Enya was not about to back down from a challenge. She would simply have to make sure that she brought something back from the hunt.

“Fine,” she bit out. “But ye’ll be disappointed when I win.”

Cillian only smiled at her and turned on his heel to walk away, which was a much more infuriating response than anything he could have said in return. For a while, Enya could only stand there, seething, while everyone else ate and drank and gathered their arrows, celebrating the holiday and the start of the hunt. She couldn’t find it in herself to celebrate—not only had her interaction with Cillian made her simmer with anger, but she also had a task on which she had to focus. Losing the bet was not an option.