She nods, thoughtfully.“We’ll come back to that, but right now, I owe you an explanation that I’m finally able to give. There's something I need to tell you," Fiona says with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Something I should have told you a long time ago."
I brace myself. "What is it?"
Fiona takes a deep breath. "I'm not who you think I am. My name isn't really Fiona. It's Sirona. I'm... well, I'm like the Morrigan. You know, divine and all that." Her cheeks are pink and she seems flustered.
I stare at her, but I know it’s the truth. I feel it. "A goddess?"
A goddess. My friend—or someone who used to be my friend—is a fucking goddess.
"You lied to me," I whisper. "All this time."
Fiona—no, Sirona—winces. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I had my reasons."
"Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify deceiving me like this?"
She sighs, her shoulders sagging. "To protect you, Brigid. From the moment you were born. I've been watching over you, guiding you—"
"Manipulating me."
"No, not manipulating. Protecting," Fiona-Sirona insists. Her eyes are earnest. "There are things at play that you can't even begin to imagine."
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. Part of me wants to scream, to rage at her for the years of lies. But another part... another part understands. I’ve always known I didn’t belong in Newton, and Fiona was kind of the same. We were fish out of water, two people with nothing and everything in common who became friends. No, not friends. She was watching me. Waiting. Never really my friend. That thought makes me sadder than anything.
"Tell me everything," I say, opening my eyes to look at her. "No more secrets."
Fiona nods, her relief obvious. "It started long ago, before the Shadow War..."
As she speaks, telling tales of ancient goddesses and cosmic chess games that I never would have believed just a short time ago, I feel an understanding dawning. And despite my anger, despite my hurt, I'm grateful for it. It’s no small gift to not feel that confusion that once made me feel so lost and alone.
I nod slowly, absorbing the weight of Fiona's words. I can’t bring myself to call her Sirona yet. It sounds too odd on my tongue and my brain won’t let me. The revelation presses against my chest, a mix of burden and strange relief. "I need time to process all this," I say.
She reaches out, her hand hovering near mine. "I understand, Brigid. And I'm sorry, truly. I hope one day you can forgive me."
I pull back, not ready for that touch. "I can't promise forgiveness. But I get why you did it. Sort of."
She nods, accepting my words. As she leaves, I sink onto my bed.
I'm lost in thought when the door bursts open. Rory bounds in, arms laden with a tray piled high with pastries. Tiernan follows, balancing coffee cups.
"Breakfast is served, m'lady!" Rory announces with a flourish.
The scent of coffee hits me, and I reach for it gratefully. "You two are lifesavers."
Tiernan settles beside me. "How are you feeling?"
I take a sip, buying time. "Overwhelmed. But okay, I think."
Rory, meanwhile, has already stuffed half a danish in his mouth. "Mmph?" he asks, crumbs flying.
I laugh. "Rory, how do you even fit that much in there?"
He grins, cheeks bulging. "Talent," he manages to say.
Tiernan rolls his eyes.
I feel a knot in my chest loosen. The problems are still there, but for now, in this moment with these two men, I can breathe. I can laugh. And maybe, just maybe, I can face whatever comes next.
Chapter Fourteen
