If Da heard the Dublin King’s warning about wanting to get back to the East Coast before dark as we set off with his son and the Sea Prince, he didn’t act like it.
As soon as we reached the farmlands on the other side of the old Sea Kingdom town, he told Sea and Dublin, “It’s my duty and honor to show you two princes how to catch foxes and rabbits — realrabbits.”
He shot a disapproving look at the Sea Prince, the oldest of us three at twelve. “Not those plump special breeds you lot farm in the down below. Can barely waddle, much less escape an arrow.”
“What’s the down below?” Dublin asked, plucking the favorite bow my da had made me give him like it was some kind of harp.
Da just sighed before announcing, “Here’s how it’ll go. I’ll wait for ye here, and the three of you can come back when you’ve caught a fox and a rabbit each.”
“Each?” Dublin scrunched his brow. “But I don’t even know how to shoot an arrow.”
“Believe me, you’ll figure it out once the hunger sets in,” Da answered. His voice held about as much sympathy as a stone. “Now go. The longer ye ask questions, the longer it’ll take.”
We set off in three different directions.
But of course, I returned less than an hour later with a fox whose neck I’d broken and a rabbit I’d had to throw a knife at since I’d given my favorite bow to a city eejit who didn’t even know how to use it.
Sea took longer, about three clicks of the sun. And it was dark by the time Dublin came back, his face streaked with dirt, sweat, and the salty trails of frustration tears.
Neither Da nor I wore watches, but we didn’t need to. The first thing Dublin yelled was, “Nine hours! Jayzuz Christ, it took me nine bloody hours to complete your goddamn mission!”
Da and me swapped smug looks. The Dublin Prince wasn’t so posh now, was he?
“Feelin’ proper accomplished, then, ain’t ye?” Da asked, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Dublin kicked at the dirt before admitting, “Yeah. Yeah, I am. And I’m a right shot now.”
We all laughed.
Sea handed him one of the sandwiches he’d fetched from the human town when the sun started to drop, and we realized Dublin wouldn’t return anytime soon. I clapped him on the back and told him he could keep my favorite bow.
Us being Irish, we turned the walk back to Belfast House into a recounting of our kills, each story more embellished than the last. Even Dublin laughed at my dead-on impression of him yelling, “Nine hours!” when he emerged from the hunt. And Da laughed hardest of all.
None of us knew that would be his last laugh. His last smile. His last enjoyment of any good times with his son.
That “nine hours” would have a different meaning as soon as we walked back into Belfast House.
To no one’s surprise, the Dublin King awaited us at the lake path. We’d missed his deadline to get back by a good three or four hours.
“Why the bloody hell do you choose to live your life without a phone?” The Dublin King's expression was both furious and uneasy in the moonlight as he confronted my father.
I sniggered. Posh gobshite must have been in a right state, thinking something bad had happened to his son.
Da began to shrug. I suspected he had a right bastard-like line all prepared to further piss the Dublin King off.
But then his eyes flicked up to the Belfast House, and he stilled.
“If you only had a phone, all of this could have been prevented!” The Dublin King’s voice had taken on a note of defensive panic.
And my amusement faded as I followed Da’s gaze.
There was only one light on. The one for the room we’d been given at Belfast House — the one with the extra-large bed my mother pointed out was meant for luckyqueens with two mates.
“You’ve never even managed to satisfy one husband,” my father had sneered at her. “And now you wish for two?”
They’d slept on opposite sides of me every night of the quarterly, using their son as a physical barrier.
But now, something about that lone light in the window filled me with dread, though I couldn’t explain why. Not yet.
