“I’m old, not a prude,” Leighis quipped.
Despite myself, I laughed; the tension in the air that only I seemed to feel was suddenly too much. Neirin’s obliviousness and my mentor’s blunt candor elicited unladylike snorts as I tried to restrain myself. Both men turned to me, the lines of their faces drawn in quizzical concern.
The implication clicked into place, and Neirin’s eyes widened. His gaze swung sharply to Leighis. “This is because I slept with her?”
And with that, the two men in the room were back to speaking about me, in front of me, as men seemed so keen to do. I scoffed, any amusement from before gone, and leaned against the railing.
“The marks formed when you came together because you are true mates, a bonded pair,” Leighis explained.
“You keep saying that word—bond. What does that mean?” Neirin asked.
Leighis made a faint, thoughtful noise. Knowing him as I did, I suspected he was silently brewing a lesson. I glanced over my shoulder at the curtain that divided the back room from the shop. What would happen if Aureus walked in on this conversation?If he knew about the bond Neirin and I shared, would he turn Ruairc away? Was being shackled to a man framed for treason any better? Either way, it would not be my choice but something forced upon me.
I rubbed my hand over my face. Gods, all I wanted was to be left alone in the shop to make medicines. To crack the door as spring brought with it a warm breeze. To study the different scents of plants and powders as I combined them, to memorize them, to let myself fall to the fascinations of the incredible remedies the earth provided.
“At the beginning of time,” Leighis said, finally beginning his lecture, “the moon gods Ayre and Wyn created the beasts of this world. You know this, yes?” Not waiting for a response, he continued. “The brothers Ayre and Wyn were proud of their creations: beasts of land, sea, and sky. In this time, the sun goddess Ora made only one creature. The brothers scoffed at this, for they had made many. But Ora was not discouraged, for she had made man.”
I studied Neirin, curious if he would interrupt. Though his body was tense, he said nothing, only held my mentor’s gaze.
“Ayre and Wyn saw man, and they were jealous,” Leighis said. “Their sister created a creature that could communicate and process more complex thoughts and emotions. Her creation would build civilizations, would rule over the beasts of the world. It wouldn’t do, of course, so they created once more.”
“With the last of their magic, the brothers created the lines of the gods. Human, yet also beast. They had the intellect and cunning of their sister’s creatures, as well as the strengths and abilities of the animals whose forms they took on. Beyond that, the creatures held magic.”
“I have no magic.”
Leighis rested a hand on the table. I pushed off the railing and went to his side, ready to assist him if he needed it.“You do,” the old man stated.
“I heal quickly,” Neirin offered.
“That is not a gift. The blood of the gods runs in your veins. It is said to be something coveted, though in all my years, I never learned why. Studies proved it to be unstable, unable to heal others when used as a transfusion. Useless, except to its host.” The old man’s eyes sharpened in defiance.
“Curious.” Neirin’s jaw flexed, but he gave no further comment. If he knew something, he was choosing to keep it to himself. Though it seemed in truth that he knew very little about himself or his kind. I pitied him a bit for that.
Humming with consideration, Leighis nodded and returned to his storytelling. “The sun goddess Ora was furious. How could her brothers create something in the image of her own design? She hadn’t thought to give her humans magic; it made her bitter. In her jealousy, she created the Alidian, but with this design, she was brash and thoughtless, and her anger seeped into the mold she made.
“In their feud, the siblings created beings too powerful for this world. But nature has a way of reconciling itself, forcing balance. In the image of their creator’s haste and rashness, the Alidian come upon the world at random, bold and fast, and are often put out just as quickly.”
Leighis sucked in a breath before continuing. “The brothers’ creations were crafted to be the very best. But, in this drive forperfection, they also forced it upon their creations. The beast within each one was selective, choosing only one as its mate. Without a true mate, one with the blood of the gods could not reproduce. Slowly their lines began to die out.”
And there it was. Theshe’s the only one who can bear a child for youbit of the story. It wasn’t that I didn’t want children or wasn’t fond of them, but I didn’t want being a mother and a wife to beallI was. When Ruairc looked to me, even when my brother did, it felt as if that was the only value they assigned to me.
Turning his gaze to me, Neirin’s lips parted. For someone who’d been told they’d found their true mate, he appeared devastated, entirely weighed down by the knowledge. Was it unfair of me to cast him aside but feel bitterness and rejection should he do the same to me?
“I can have children still without you,” I said. “It is only you who cannot without me.” The words came out as a ramble. Firming my lips, I cast my eyes aside, heat rising to my cheeks.
“I will never have children,” Neirin said, and the heavy, seeping sadness in his voice drew my attention back to him.
Leighis groaned faintly, a sign he was tiring. I reached for him reflexively. He mumbled, his words making little sense.
“Come, sit,” I coaxed.I guided him to a chair along the railing, then eased him down. His eyes still shone, and I held them as if I could will him to stay with me, stay present. But of course I couldn’t.Even for a healer, some things were beyond reach. Fleeting awareness was perhaps one of the truest cruelties of aging.
“Is he sick?” Neirin asked from behind me.
I bit back a bitter retort, my heart aching as it always did when Leighis slipped away.When the old man’s eyes grew distant, I kissed him above his brows.
Turning back to Neirin, I took a breath and braced myself with my palms on the table. “He’s absent, lost in his mind. I don’t know why it happens.”
The worktable between us offered a veil of separation. Eyes cast down to the strewn papers, I let the weight of everything settle over me.
