After we climbed the ladder, I peeled off my cloak and went to change into something that wasn’t soaked in sweat. Ciaran went to the kitchen and poured two glasses with a few ounces of amber liquid.
“Drink. You need it after that ordeal tonight.” His voice was gruff as he handed me the short, sturdy glass. I sniffed it. Whiskey. Not my usual choice, but I accepted it anyway as Ciaran gestured for me to sit at the table.
“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Ciaran. We just… I just…” I huffed. “I needed answers. I didn’t want to think of the consequences. I probably should have talked to you about it.” It had been so reckless. Like I was taking for granted everythinghe’d done for me. Guilt sloshed in my guts and the sip of whiskey did nothing to settle it.
“I wouldn’t have stopped you.” Ciaran sipped from his glass. “I understand. This situation is impossible. I would have done the same. I would have gone with you—to have had your back.” He reached out, closing the space between us at that small table, and brushed his thumb over the back of my hand. It was a light, innocent gesture, but it left me shivering.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just took another sip. So did he.
Something shifted in the air as I swallowed the fiery liquor; everything felt… closer.
“Tell me about Seff,” Ciaran said, changing the subject.
I sputtered, almost choking on my drink. “What do you want to know?” I think I knew what he was asking, but I dodged the question, trying to focus on breathing normally and not inhaling any more liquor.
“I’m trying to understand how you ended up with him,” Ciaran said softly. “You don’t seem…”
“I don’t seem what?” I said, defensiveness colouring my tone.
“You don’t seem like his type,” Ciaran replied honestly, shrugging his broad shoulders.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I gripped the glass tightly in my hands. I was unaccustomed to Ciaran’s blunt style of speaking. He put up no walls, played no games. He said what he wanted when he wanted. I don’t think I had ever met anyone like that.
“Well, as I have said before, you’re far too interesting for him. And you have goals and ambitions. I thought he’d want to be with someone who just wanted to pop out a bunch of heirs to the family legacy. A quiver full of Scion flunkies. You know. Unless that is what you want? Or wanted?”
I paused, words failing. Ciaran had distilled my entire relationship into a few sentences. And I didn’t know what to say. Because it was true. That was what Seff had been after. And it was not what I wanted. I had known that the moment he made his impromptu ‘proposal.’ But if I was being honest with myself, in the whirlwind of the past few weeks I had barely even thought of Seff. That fact itself was telling.
I took a deep breath and braced myself to tell the story. “We met when we were children,” I began. “He was a few years older than me. My family lived south of Lutesse at the time, in a small town by the Enotrian sea. His family would summer there and we used to play together for those weeks that they were in town. When he was allowed outside.” I paused. Most memories of my childhood were painful. My mother’s illness. My father’s sadness when she died. Those times with Seff were some of the only happy times I could recall with clarity. It was painful to think of them now after everything had gone so very wrong.
“I taught him how to swim. He taught me to ride a bike. We climbed trees together. As we got older my feelings… evolved. He was my first crush. And I guess I never really got over that. My mother was sick and we knew she was dying. My whole life was falling apart. But when Seff came for the summer, I could forget about that for a bit.” It was the most honest and vulnerable thing I had ever admitted to anyone.
“I’m sorry,” Ciaran whispered, the pain on his face—the understanding—he knew what it was to lose a beloved parent.
“It was an escape for Seff too. His father was so strict, he was never allowed to do anything fun. He was always forced to study and go to church and learn the scriptures. But when they came to the seaside, he could let go for a bit. I think that was important for him,” I explained, knowing how hard it had likely been to grow up with the viscount for a father.
“And you’ve been together since then?” Ciaran urged me to continue the story.
“No. No, we lost touch for a very long time. But he saw me dancing in the opera one day—maybe six months ago? He came to find me. We reconnected then. It was…” I started to recall the day he’d surprised me backstage. It had been one of the happiest moments of my life. I was thrilled to find the boy I had loved so many years ago. But he was different. Something had changed in him. There was an edge to him that I ignored—I had not wanted to see. He had spent so many years in his father’s shadow. That little towheaded boy on those endless summer days by the sea? He didn’t exist anymore.
“Where did you just go?” Ciaran reached across the table, brushing a calloused thumb over my hand, snapping me back into the room.
“I convinced myself he was everything I wanted. I was sure of it for a while.” I sighed.
“And now?” Ciaran was pushing me beyond my comfort level—this amount of vulnerability was dizzying.
“Now I am not sure of anything.” I huffed a laugh and chewed on my lower lip. I took another sip of the burning liquid—the elixir that seemed to be giving me the courage to voice my innermost truths. “But Iamsure that Seff was not the one for me. We both changed too much. I was going to break things off… before it all happened.”
“Hm…” Ciaran said in response; his dark eyes unreadable. I didn’t tell him about Seff’s attempt at a proposal. That still seemed too raw.
“What about you?” I felt brave, after everything I’d gone through that evening. “Do you have anyone… special?” It felt so stupid as soon as the word came out of my mouth. I blamed this damned spirit, glinting in my glass like a menacing truth serum. Words were tumbling out before I could catch them. “I mean. Iknow I already asked if you were with Elena and obviously the answer was no but… are you… with anyone?” My cheeks heated as I looked down. Eye contact was unfathomable at the moment.
“I am not,” Ciaran stated, plainly. “I have had relationships,” he explained, “many relationships,” he added. I bristled a little at that, feeling a pang of jealousy that I had no right or reason to feel. “But there was no one who reallyknewme. None of them lasted because of it.” He swirled the liquor in his glass idly.
“What are you looking for, then?” So brave and so stupid.
“Well…” Ciaran pondered the answer. “I don’t really have any physical preferences per se. I’m not attracted to one specific kind of person—gender, body type, shape, size. None of that really matters to me. If I’m attracted to someone, it’s to their soul first.” He said it so casually, as if he hadn’t announced something paradigm shifting. I supposed it wasn’t for him; he was so used to being honest. He clearly did not fear being vulnerable. “I’m looking for something real. Something undeniable. I want to look at that person and wonder how I survived so long with a piece of my soul missing.”
“So just something casual, then?” I volleyed back at him, poking fun at his dramatic declaration. It was easier to do that than the alternative. To reallyfeelwhat he had said.
