Chapter 29

DUN RINGILL CASTLE - SEPTEMBER 20, 1385

L éo had refused to talk to her beyond basic polite conversation for days. Each twilight Moira invited him to join her at Albhainn Pond to train, but he made excuses and apologies and wouldn't go. Each morning he saw her into the care of Isobel while he went to store the harvests with Gordon, and each afternoon he sat stoically reading in Niall's solar, keeping steadfast vigil over her when she must interact with Fingon and Malvina. Each night, he waited for her to slip inside her room and bolt the door before going to bed.

His heart had closed to her, and now no matter how hard she knocked, he wouldn't open it again. Today, after a week of distance, she decided to confront him. Rising before lauds, she slipped down to the kitchens to wait for him to wake. She eased the door open, endeavoring not to rouse Isobel sleeping next door.

The glow of a single candle wavered at the table. She froze. Léo sat, his head bowed, his hair fisted in his hands. Beside him, still dressed in her chemise, white hair plaited down her back, Isobel listened, her hand on his large shoulder. "You need to tell her, Léo. She should know."

Moira tried to decide if she should announce herself or keep listening. Even if she wanted to announce herself, she couldn't. Was this the secret he was keeping from her ?

"How would you tell someone that their father isn't their father? I can't. If she doesn't know it will destroy her."

"It may be why she still doesn't trust you. Perhaps if you tell her how much her father wanted you to take care of her, she would listen. You have to."

"What am I supposed to say? He said he loved her as if she were his own. But whose is she? She'll want answers. No, I can't crush her. It's better left unsaid."

Moira was frozen in disbelief. The words of her father that Léo had kept secret…but he'd kept it from her to save her from hurting. Her hand came to her heart, her chest heaving. Oh Léo, I know he's not my real father. I'm the one keeping a secret from you.

"But he charged you to protect her and help her find her family."

"She doesn't want me to protect her, Isobel. She wants to protect herself. To make her own decisions, even if they hurt me."

Hurt? She wasn't trying to hurt him.

"Now Son, don't give up hope."

"It's no use. She's everything to me, Isobel." His voice broke and broke her heart in two. "But to her, I'm not enough."

Yes he was . After everything she'd done to help him, how could he feel this way?

Isobel wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders. "That's not true. I see the way she looks at you. I know she loves you."

"I know she cares for me, but she's flying away from me. All I can offer is to be my wife and mother to Gabriel. But she doesn't want to be held back."

Isobel's voice wavered with confusion. "What else could she want?"

The Shield. Flying through trees, working on missions. She loved him, but why must she give up the missions God had given her the talents to complete? Why couldn't she have both?

He gave a wet sniff and she realized he was crying. "More than what I can offer. I have to think about Gabriel. He needs a mother who's constant, not in and out of his life, or who may not come home at all. He's already lost one mother."

Isobel rubbed his back, clearly not understanding his meaning. "Lad, it'll be all right. "

In her heart, Moira knew he was right. What kind of mother went on nighttime raids and shot flaming arrows? What kind of mother would risk not coming home to her children? And yet…that was the wife and mother she would be.

"How?"

Isobel blew out a breath. "I dinnae ken. Niall will'nae let her go."

"I need to accept that it's over. We won't be together. But I can't stomach watching her fly away."

No, Léo . Unexpectedly, the chains around her heart clattered to the ground and her stomach clenched. They must be together. It had to work out in the end, didn't it? It couldn't be over. They had to figure out a way.

"Son, it'll be all right. You'll love again."

Walking backward toward the kitchen door, Moira opened it and closed it again, announcing that she was there. Movement sounded on the other side of the wall and she walked into the kitchen, looking at Léo's back, his head still hanging, his hair still in his hands. Heart pounding, she took a step toward him.

Isobel stepped into her path. "Moira, love. Good morning."

Moira nodded and signed good morning, taking a step toward Léo. Isobel sidestepped between her and Léo, a protective look in her eye, and rested her hand on the back of his shoulder. "Is there something you need?"

Moira shook her head and moved to walk around her, but Isobel moved into her path again.

"If there's nothing you want, lass, perhaps you can wait in my room. We're having a private chat."

Of all the people she expected to challenge her to a fight, she didn't expect sweet Isobel. Moira eyed the kitchen and knew she could easily get around the auld woman, but a congested sniff from behind her hunched back made Moira reconsider.

Léo didn't want to see her. He didn't want to end it, but she instinctively knew he would the next time they talked. She couldn't call to him, couldn't explain herself.

Forever silent, all she could do was nod, turn, and walk away.

It took Moira all day to come to terms with the knowledge that her great love was slipping away from her. Léo wanted her to be his wife, and she knew in her heart she couldn't give up her position on the team. How could she give up what had set her free and given her purpose? A purpose she felt born for?

Sitting at her table, she looked out over Loch Slapin as a flock of shelducks landed on the glassy surface, casting a V-shaped ripple behind them. Guilt crushed her. How had she been so careless? While she'd been preoccupied blaming Léo for the ways he'd hurt her, she'd hurt him as thoroughly as he'd hurt her. Perhaps worse.

Yet in the grief for what she would lose, there was a glimmer of relief that he was strong enough to end things. The feeling unsettled her, but it was there nonetheless. She couldn't turn away from the mission God had given her, not even for Léo. God had given her these talents and she had a responsibility to him, and to the team that was relying on her to aid them in stopping the Wolf. How could she let them down?

She touched the Psalter and the dried tops of the Michaelmas daisies. If he knew the secret of who she was, would he understand why she had to do this? Would he understand why she had to see what was at the end of this path? Why she had to find out what she was made of? She flipped open the cover of the Psalter and pulled out the charcoal note.

Léonid - I love you with all of my heart. I trust that you'll never let me fall. I'm yours forever and ever. The black splotch where she'd crossed out the secret assailed her conscience. She didn't trust him with the truth. Picking up the notes, she walked to the fire, feeding it into the embers alongside his.

Perhaps the reason things weren't working was the lie she lived each day. She couldn't be fully Léo's, couldn't fully give her heart when it contained a deep secret. How much did she love him? How much did she not want to lose him? How could she decide to end things, when for Aileen, they'd never truly begun? Inking a quill, she sat down at her table and began to lay herself bare.

My beloved, Léonid ? —

My earliest memory is being in a boat, out on the open sea. I remember begging my family to let me go along, and being told no. I was only four years old. But I snuck aboard the boat anyway—hiding under an oilcloth. I remember revealing myself when we were out to sea and someone being angry, though I can't remember who.

The next thing I remember is the sound of raised voices, and the glossy back of a dolphin swimming over quick, rippling waves beside our boat. I looked at the creature and said, "Good morning, dolphin." They were the last words I ever spoke.

The next thing I remember is reaching out to touch its back. And then, black, sucking waves. I went under fast, and it felt as though someone pulled me through the tide. I came up a few minutes later and collided with a branch. I held on, and kept holding on for two days.

On the third day, my branch collided with a boat—a man's boat. He plucked me out of the tide, my throat ragged from crying and screaming. My throat was on fire. He told me I could call him Father Allen, but I couldn't speak. He took me home, and his wife, Joan, healed me, but my voice never returned.

I couldn't tell them my name, or about my family, or how I came to cling to a branch, or how long I'd bobbed in the water. They kept me anyway, and named me Moira. They told me I was an answer to their prayers. By the time I learned to read, to write, to sign, I'd been Moira for years. They loved and cared for me so much, I couldn't tell them my true name. I wanted to be theirs, to belong to someone, so I never told them. And now…they're gone. Everything Moira was was wrapped up in being their daughter. Again I've felt I'm that lost little girl sucked out to sea, and don't know who I am or where I belong.

Until now. After so many years of not having a voice, I have friends who speak to me in my language and listen to all my thoughts. I can use the areas God has given me overflow to help good men defeat evil. I feel as if I am finally living as the woman God made me to be.

I've never meant to hurt you. I don't want to break your heart, and I'm sorry that I have. I don't want to live without you, but I don't want to be swept away from who God made me to be.

No, I don't want to give up my place on the Shield—but what if we work together? I want to fly through the air and land in your arms. I trust you not to let me fall and to keep me safe. We could weigh the risks we take together, and I promise I'll even let you tell me no and submit if it's too risky. Because I love you. And I trust you. And I know you only want to keep me safe.

But I know you haven't just yourself, but a precious boy to think of. Gabriel needs a mother, and you need a wife, and beloved, I need a family. We're meant for each other. I pray somehow we can find our way forward together. But if I'm not the mother you want for him, Léo, I pray you find a wife who will be everything you need.

I have loved you from the moment your lips touched mine. In that moment I knew I had found the only man I would ever love, forever. The man worthy of the woman I truly am. Léo, my lion, I want you to be the first to know my deepest secret—my name. The only thing about myself I know for sure. Please understand, please choose me , Aileen.

Yours alone. — Aileen, from the sea.

Blowing on her signature, she dried the ink and folded the message, tucking it inside the Psalter along with the dried daisies. Feeling as though she was running across a branch two-hundred feet in the air, she hurried through the keep up to the garret, and into his room.

The smell of lavender permeated the chamber. It was practically as spare as it'd been months earlier when he'd arrived. Except for a trunk, a small shaving kit, and a hand mirror, the room had no adornment or decoration. She breathed in and out, feeling at peace in the simplicity of the room.

Touching one uncreased pillow, she lifted it, tucking the Psalter beneath its ivory shelter. He would find it tonight, and he would know. She wasn't Moira, she was Aileen. And Aileen she evermore would be.

Rising, she touched the latch, looking once more around the room and breathing him in, then pushed into the hall.

"Mistress Allen."

Fingon stood at the top of the stairs, his narrow back to the wall. Heart slamming against her chest, she dropped her eyes to her shoes as he walked past her and opened Léo's door, looking around.

"What were you doing in my brother's room?"

She lifted her eyes to his to respond and his hand connected with her cheek. "Know your place. "

Tears blinded her vision, but she kept her composure and looked at him making her eyes empty and relaxed, defying him. His hand came up again and she pointed to her mouth. Explain?

Fingon's hand lowered. "Let's hear it."

Slowly, she enunciated silent words. I was exploring.

He scoffed. "Exploring?"

She nodded.

"Exploring my brother's room?"

Your mother said it belonged to a servant.

Fingon's beady eyes narrowed and she could see nothing of Léo in the duplicity swarming in them.

Is there anything else?

His eyes swept her from head to toe. "I've a feeling you were up here looking for Léonid. He'll be away for the next five days in Kylerhea. Orders from Niall."

Her heart sank. Léo would never have left for five days and not given her instruction. Fingon studied her reaction closely but she did not betray her feelings.

Will he?

Fingon locked stares with her, and she got the feeling he was trying to divine her thoughts. Fortunately for her, empty-headed Moira the Mute had none.

"You may go."

She dropped her eyes and curtseyed, descending down the stairs, making a concerted effort not to run. She'd nearly made it to her floor when Fingon's voice sounded behind her."Mistress Allen?"

Moira's feet stopped and her breath came in small bursts, as she tried to remain calm. Slowly, she turned.

"What is this?"

Her heart fell into her shoes and she mouthed the answer. A Psalter.