Maeve’s mouth opened, but nothing immediately came out. Her auntie was just full of quips and advice today, it seemed.
“Well, that’s…”
Sofie nodded, sitting back with her lemonade to take the smuggest sip the world had ever seen.
“This could be a good thing, love. You’re growing and changing—this could be just what you both need.”
“But it’s not what I planned for.”
“Life doesn’t care about our plans.”
Maeve sighed. “Why did I even come here?”
“For some proper auntie advice, excellent as always.” Standing up, Sofie moved to pat Maeve’s cheek affectionately. “Sort out your feelings and then do something about it, Maeve. It’s the only way forward.”
13
That was easier said than done, at least for Maeve. Particularly since she didn’twantto think about her feelings anymore. If anything, the longer she considered the knot of them, the tighter they strung.
One more thing left unresolved or unanswered—like how both letters to Lady Aislinn had gone unanswered, as had all of her inquiries in Dundúran. Maeve was getting sick of how many were piling up.
She thought all these things, and her frustration over them, were why she’d begun to be so irritable lately. Normally, Maeve found it easy to let things roll right off her shoulder. Get even or let it go; there wasn’t a point to holding on.
So when she saw Keeley sigh with relief into her porridge after Maeve disagreed with their mother about moving her to the otherly school one morning, Maeve not only took notice but offense.
“You don’t think she’d have more fun being with you?” asked Aoife over breakfast one morning.
“I wouldn’t do anything in the middle of the term. And, her friends are in Granach. Transferring schools can be difficult, even traumatic,” advised Maeve, more out of academic rather than sisterly concern.
Which was good, because she didn’t imagine how Keeley’s shoulders slumped in relief. Maeve bit her cheek to keep from pouting—so Keeley didn’t want to go with Maeve to her school at all? It’d been their mother’s idea?
Not hungry anymore, Maeve slid away from the table. “I’m off.”
“Oh, but Maeve, do you think you could ask about a position for Blaire? I know she’s barely out of schooling herself, but I think she’d enjoy it.”
Being surrounded by talkative, loud children wasn’t something Maeve thought Blaire would enjoy at all, actually.
“I can ask, but I think it’d be better if she continued her studying for the entrance exam.”
Anyone looking to attend a university anywhere in the kingdom would need good marks on the entrance exam. They were offered throughout the summer at the civil ministry in Dundúran, and, as far as Maeve knew, Blaire intended to try on the first round.
Aoife made a face. “I know, but I wanted her to have other things to think about.”
Meaning, options other than leaving home. Aoife had put up quite the fight and fit when Maeve announced she was headed far away for university. It’d taken her father’s intervention—and sponsorship to pay for it—to finally get her way. Calum had had a slightly easier time; it was clear to see how bookish Calum was meant for academics, what with his curious mind and nose perpetually in a book.
It seemed Aoife was going to try a different strategy with Blaire. Poor dear. Unlike Maeve, Blaire was a sensitive, soft soul.If Aoife demanded she stay home, she probably would.
That was Blaire’s fight, though. All Maeve could speak to was, “She seems set on studying for the exam. There are many opportunities to study literature and art like she wants to. She’s probably bored here—you know she’s already read through Lady Aislinn’s library.” Blaire might not be the best fit for life in the capital, but there were plenty of things she’d enjoy about it—greater access to the arts, libraries as big as Dundúran Town Hall, likeminded people to meet.
As their father said, they wouldn’t know where they belonged until they’d left home and come back. Even faithful Sorcha had left—although not of her own choice. Still, kidnapping aside, it brought her and Orek together, so overall, a positive experience.
Aoife’s face pinched, and Maeve knew that was her cue to leave. She didn’t need to argue with her mama this early in the morning.
It didn’t help her mood when, sitting by the door to lace up her boots, she heard Keeley say to their mother, “Itoldyou, she doesn’t like Blaire and me.”
Maeve bit her cheek again and barely managed to stop herself from stomping into her boot. That little brat, making it sound like Maeve was the one who didn’t want them at her school. Blaire and Keeley themselves had made it a point since before Maeve went away to avoid her.
Huffing in annoyance, Maeve stood from the bench, opened the front door, and closed it behind her. Loudly.
