Eventually, Sofie passed her judgement. “I think we can table what you and Sorcha said to each other. Honestly, it sounds like you’re both right.”
It wasn’t what Maeve wanted to hear, even if she’d come to a similar conclusion during her night of brooding. Perhaps all those things needed to be said, rather than remain festering, but she could at least regret that so much of it was done in anger. Delivered like that, the truth held little power.
“For now, we need to sort out what you intend to do with your lion-man.”
Maeve nodded, a desperate relief overcoming her. “Tell me what to do, auntie,” she implored. She couldn’t bear to choose.
But instead of deciding for her and putting Maeve partially out of her misery, Sofie instead said, “Tell me something, Maeve. Were you happy in Gleanná?”
Maeve sat back in her chair, utterly astonished by the question. What did that have to do with Soren?
“Sometimes, I suppose.” She would’ve enjoyed her time at Queen Angharad more without a certain Brianne Kewleigh.
“Was there somewhere in the city you wanted to work in particular? Or live?”
Maeve shrugged. There’d been beautiful neighborhoods she could aspire to live in, and there was so much to do in the evenings—the theater, concerts, science exhibits, elegant restaurants, and plenty of seedier, even more fun establishments across the river. You could get lost in a city as big and vibrant in Gleanná.
“Did you find there what you couldn’t find here?”
“No,” she admitted. For all the capital offered, nothing had truly stuck with her beyond fleeting enjoyments.
“Do you think you’ll find it in Dundúran?”
“I don’t know…”
“What about further, in Kilkarach or Adrigoll or even Caledon?”
The thought of such far-off places only shot anxiety through her veins. Usually, she loved the idea of seeing something new and exciting. She did want to travel. But so far…forever…?
Maeve thought she could do it, in the end. She considered herself brave enough to go and resourceful enough to succeed. But…she’d be lying if she said the thought didn’t scare her. To strike out on her own, to take on the world alone…it didn’t have the same allure as it did even a year ago.
“It’d be an adventure,” she said, although her voice held no enthusiasm. Even as she said it, more tears welled in her eyes. “But everywhere I go, I don’t belong.” What if she did everything she could, sacrificed everything to make a new life for herself somewhere far away and exciting…only to find she didn’t belong there either?
She couldn’t bear it.
“Wanting a place to belong isn’t so strange, chickadee,” her aunt said gently. Maeve looked up when she felt Sofie’s warm hand close over her own. “‘Wherever you go, there you are.’ That’s how the saying goes, I believe.”
Maeve’s breath caught in her throat.
“You can go anywhere in the world, Maeve. I hope you get to see and do everything you want to. But know, you’ll still be you in the end.”
She wished for the floor to open up and swallow her as a wave of nauseous sick overwhelmed her. Tears slipped down her face as Maeve grappled with the horrible thought—was Sofie right?
“I haven’t been running from myself,” she murmured, almost in defiance. Maeve didn’t hate who she was. She wasn’t always proud, sure, but she didn’t long to be like Sorcha or Brianne Kewleigh. She’d only ever wanted to be herself.
“No, but maybe you’ve been trying to find where you belong.” Squeezing her hand, Sofie delivered one last bludgeoning of truth. “Belonging doesn’t always have to be a place, chickadee.”
Sofie stood, leaving Maeve behind to stare in shock at the empty space she left. Rounding the table, Sofie hugged Maeve’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I love you no matter what, Maeve. But I think it’s time you be honest with yourself—and that sweet, kind lion-man.”
Maeve couldn’t respond, could do nothing at all except sit there as Sofie prepared for her day. Eventually, her healer’s bag slung over her shoulder, she called, “You can stay a little longer if you need, but clear up the table, would you?” And with that, Maeve was left alone with her thoughts.
Usually, Sofie would’ve gently kicked her out. Her auntie was happy to offer sanctuary—but not forever. She liked her space and her quiet. Although as a healer she was good with people and always surrounded by them, Sofie enjoyed living on her own.
Maeve had always admired that. Had considered whether she herself wanted a life like that.
By rote, Maeve began to clear the table and wash the dishes. She performed the menial cleaning in a stupor, not really seeing or feeling the dishes, water, or soap.
Wherever you go, there you are.
