The beast didn’t want to hear that, but Soren was sure to remind them both of it every day. For, the longer he watched, the more he saw and understood—Maeve was meant for far more. She had talent, drive, ambition, and the children here were lucky to have all of it focused on them for the year. But it was plain to see for Soren that such skills could benefit so many others.
Maeve was bright, bold, beautiful—meant for something far bigger and greater than their little town.
Soren certainly wouldn’t be the one to hold her back from such a future.
And yet, as he hummed the vegetable song to himself, he couldn’t help a strange pang in his chest at the inevitable.
Something equally strange happened after each evening session, too.
Soren had become one of the least popular people in Danann. To be sure, he was used to dirty looks and grumbling after twenty years within the Gurunkun pride, but he’d gotten used to being unnoticed, if not actually liked, within the growing otherly community.
But he was far from the only one charmed by the new, young, beautiful schoolteacher.
Now that Miss Maeve had decided Soren would be the one to walk her home in the evenings—even after the Feather Debacle, as it was being called—Soren had become particularly reviled. In her polite but direct way, Maeve made it clear that she’d walk with only him.
“Don’t worry, everyone,” she chimed, “I’m safest with Mister Soren.”
Grumps and growls and glares followed. It would take but a glance, a word for a dozen suitors to throw themselves at her feet, begging for the chance to escort her home. It was less than a thirty-minute walk, yes, but to have thirty minutes alone with the beautiful Miss Maeve—Soren is a lucky bastard,they said, and also,Such a waste.
“Wouldn’t you rather have someone else walk with you?” he had to ask her eventually. “Get to…know someone?”
Her lips lifted in that polite smile he was coming to recognize; the one that was both placid and polite, neutral yet beguiling—and didn’t reach her eyes.
“No, this suits me fine. I don’t want to have anymore…complications, and we already have an understanding, you and I.”
Soren nodded. That’s right, they did. No need to acknowledge or announce their mate-bond, for they wouldn’t let one grow. Soren could ensure no rivals encroached on Maeve, and she got to avoid any unwanted entanglements.
Really, he was protecting her from everyone, includinghimself.
That’s fine. Good, even.
Histurukhacked in disgust.
It’s fine,he insisted.This will work out fine.
Escorting her home made sense, then, for both of them. Not so remarkable. What he found strange, even fantastical, was that after a few nights of this, Maeve began to…talk to him.
9
Maeve hadn’t exactly planned on filling the thirty or so minutes of walking home with idle chatter, but after a few silent walks, she just couldn’t bear it any longer.
Really, it was mostly just Maeve talking and Soren listening, but she didn’t get the feeling he minded. That was a relief—she’d found most men didn’t really listen but instead merely waited for their time to talk again. Meanwhile, Soren the lion-man listened carefully, a little line of concentration between his brows, as if he’d be tested later about what she’d said.
It was charming in a way, and so Maeve indulged. She hadn’t really had anyone to talk to in ages. She had a few friends in university, but it was more out of survival instinct, strength in numbers, to keep safe from the worst gossip and maligning. And besides, no one wanted to be deemed guilty by association with her, and so once Brianne Kewleigh marked Maeve out for scorn, few stood by her.
She’d had plenty of friends in and around Granach; she was always planning get-togethers or matchmaking for them.She disliked the wordmeddling, but whatever anyone called it, Maeve was excellent at it and enjoyed keeping a lively social circle. However, strangely, none of these friends had come to see her. They were busy, she supposed; what letters she’d received from home told of weddings and births she’d missed. Even though she believed most were still nearby, she’d yet to see anyone from before university.
Without anyone else to talk to, Maeve had to improvise. Although some might think it a strange arrangement, since neither intended to pursue the fated mate matter, she considered Soren a safe enough ear. He was a quiet soul and didn’t speak much at all; she needn’t worry about errant gossip.
To be sure, there were a dozen otherly men in her evening classes who’d gladly listen to anything she had to say, but there again, she couldn’t be sure they weren’t just hoping for some tidbit to use later. Soren, at least, in his indifference, she could trust.
Such a strange situation we’ve found ourselves in,Maeve couldn’t help thinking.
Still, it passed the time well enough, and it was nice to put to words so many of the things she’d been thinking.
“Of course, underestimating Brianne was my own mistake,” she admitted to him on that night’s walk home. “I just didn’t think correcting her form would upset her so much. It was all the way back in our first year. Maybe even the first month. She hated me from then on.”
She could’ve avoided Brianne’s grudge and retribution by keeping quiet, of course, but Maeve didn’t see the point of ignoring when someone or something was wrong. Why not call attention to it so it could be corrected? And it wasn’t as if she spoke to Brianne in any particularly cruel way—she said it as she’d say it to anyone.
