32. Saoirse

Saoirse

T he bakery was quiet, the usual warmth from the ovens replaced by a cold emptiness that had made its home in my bones. I still had mud clinging to my clothes, but I couldn't muster the energy to change. The physical grime seemed fitting, a direct response to the way I felt on the inside after the fight with Vane.

My lips still tingled where he had kissed me, the sudden switch in his intentions confusing. It'd been only weeks earlier that we had sat in my bathroom as he tended my wounds, telling me we couldn't and shouldn't be together.

Unable to sit still, I decided to bake. The familiar motions of mixing and kneading dough had always been the best way to clear my mind, to find some semblance of control when everything else felt chaotic. I gathered the ingredients I would need for cinnamon rolls with shaky hands.

The darkness was there, in the corners of my mind, wanting to come out, but I shoved them out of the way. To hurt myself now, after a fight with Vane, felt like... a betrayal, of sorts. Instead, I tried to focus on channeling the destructive energy into something that could keep my mind off everything.

As I poured flour into the bowl, my thoughts kept drifting back to Vane. His words echoing in my mind, his anger singing my skin, his hungry mouth on mine. His kiss had been so intense, so desperate, I thought he'd stolen the air from my lungs to use for himself.

You don't even know who you are in the first place.

Was he right?

I thought I knew who I was. Saoirse, the girl who runs the bakery, spending her days serving customers, living away from the thumb of her oppressive and hateful parents. I loved my simple life.

Didn't I?

In the six years since I'd moved out of the castle, I hadn't thought to question it. I'd inserted myself into this life, this reality upon the urging of Maeve. A choice of necessity.

But now, as I rolled out the dough, the question nagged at me. Had I been hiding? Was my life in the bakery a cocoon I'd wrapped around myself, shielding me from the fear and uncertainty of the outside world?

I spread butter over the dough, sprinkling cinnamon sugar with a practiced precision that barely registered for me. Vane had seen through my fa?ade, calling me out on the fear I'd tried so hard to bury. And the worst part was, he wasn't wrong.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, my breath whooshing out of me. Clinging to the familiarity of life in Lanthus, a life that was easier than facing the unknown, the comfort of my routines. The bakery, Xan, Maeve. They were my safety nets, tethering me to a life that I hadn't chosen. A life that didn't want me.

I rolled the dough into a tight spiral, slicing them into even pieces and placing them on a greased baking sheet. As I slid the tray into the now heated oven, the scent of cinnamon and sugar began to fill the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the mud still on my clothes. A small comfort, a familiar scene.

As the rolls baked, I leaned against the counter, staring at the rising dough through the oven's glass window. Vane had offered me a chance at something more, something different. He'd seen something in me that I had never seen in myself, and I'd pushed him away, too frightened to accept help even when it was staring me in the face.

The timer dinged, and I pulled the tray from the oven, the golden-brown rolls perfectly baked. I placed the tray on the counter, the scent of freshly baked goods bursting through the room. A small victory.

As I began to make the icing, the door creaked open, my heart leaping to my throat as Vane stepped inside. His clothes were damp and still caked with mud, a weariness in his eyes that tugged at my heart.

"Vane!" I exclaimed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Where have you been? I wasn't sure you'd ever come back."

He stood in the doorway, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "To Umbra," he said quietly. "I needed to see my mother."

I set the bowl of icing ingredients down, confused. "Umbra? But that's... Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair. "It's complicated."

"Try me," I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter. Tension from our earlier fight hung between us, but the anger had diffused on both sides. "I want to understand."

His eyes, dark and tired, met mine. "My mother is not well. She's never really been; throughout my entire life, she's become weaker and weaker. It wasn't so bad before my dad died, but once he was gone, she spiraled. The rare few doctors we've been able to get her to can't find out what's wrong with her. She's been sick for so long, Saoirse, and it's only getting worse."

A tear slipped down his cheek, but he pawed it away, trying to maintain his composure. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and raw, made my heart ache, but I stayed where I was, conflicting emotions warring within me. It was only a few hours ago we'd been at each other's throats.

"Vane," I said, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know... "

He took a shaky breath in, stepping toward me. "I've tried everything," he said, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. "But nothing works. I can't lose her, Saoirse. She's all I have left."

I stared at him, a connection firing in my mind, making sense of all that I had heard tonight. "The shard. You want the shard to heal your mom, don't you?"

He nodded, desperation in his eyes. "Yes. But" he paused, a look of guilt crossing his face, "it's selfish of me, wanting it for my own personal gain, when so many others in Umbra need my help. But maybe, the shard will be enough to save everyone. Maybe there is enough power to do both."

I swallowed hard, my own emotions swirling inside me. "I want to help," I said softly. "When this is over, when we have the shard. I'll leave with you."

His eyes widened, shock evident on his face. "You'll come with me?"

"Yes," I said, my voice firm. "No more running away."

He looked at me in disbelief. "Saoirse, I... I didn't expect you to actually—"

"I know," I interrupted, a nervous excitement brewing in my gut. "But you were right. I'm positively terrified of leaving what I know, and I've been hiding. It's time to stop. Xan will forgive me one day." I wasn't so sure about that, but I hoped she'd find it in her heart to know that I'd only be doing what I thought was best for me.

He stepped closer, crimson eyes searching mine. "I never wanted to push you away. I just needed you to see what I see when I look at you. "

"I still don't," I said warily, my heart jumping with excitement at his nearness, same as it always does. "I'm just a girl, Vane. A powerless witch who eats too much chocolate and doesn't know how to cope with her emotions. Darkness is where I'm most comfortable, and it terrifies me."

"Darkness should fear you ," he told me, his hand coming up to tease an errant curl between his fingers.

A blush crept up my cheeks, and I took a deep breath, ready to drop the other blow. "I don't know if I'll stay there," I told him, bracing myself for the argument, but it never came. In a rush, I continued, "You were right. I don't know who I am. And I need to figure that out before I can decide where it is I truly belong."

A flash of hurt, then resigned understanding crossed his face as he dropped his hand away from me, taking a step back. He read between the lines, hearing what I was really saying. I don't know how I feel about you.

"I get it," he said finally, his crimson eyes blazing into mine. "And I'll help you in whatever way you need. I think you'll find there is a lot to love about Umbra."