Page 46 of Crownless Heirs

Maelan carefully stepped in front of her, his gaze steady as he reached up, brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek.

“We don’t know how or why she was there,” he said gently. “We don’t even know if she was there of her own free will…” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch light. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”

Sorcha nodded, trying to calm her breathing, trying to make sense of it all. “And Vaelric?” she asked, her voice fierce, desperate.

“Your… your brother is alive. He was alive when they escaped but again, we don’t know for sure, Sorcha.”

“He is.” She cut him off. “I feel it. He looks so much like my mother.” Her voice was breaking.

Her mother. Maelan wanted desperately to tell her what he now knew. His eyes darted to Kyron, who looked like he was holding his breath.

“We’ll figure this all out,” Maelan said finally. “We’ll get the answers in time. But for now, let’s clear our heads, hmm?”

Sorcha looked between them both, then exhaled. “Okay.”

The Tuatha nodded in quiet acknowledgment as they stepped outside. Sorcha took a moment to thank each of them as she passed. She stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of confinement, exhaling deeply. Kyron gestured toward a small alcove nestled on the outskirts of town. Billows of smoke rose from a chimney in the distance, the sounds of music playing on the breeze.

“It’s a way from the Tuatha, it’s mostly travelers and outsiders like me.” Kyron said as he pointed to the building.

Sorcha let out a breath, stretching her arms as she walked. “Wait, what? I thought- ”

Kyron’s expression didn’t shift, but Maelan caught the flicker of anger in his eyes.

Stepping ahead to keep pace, Maelan turned to Sorcha. “Kyron is like you,” he said smoothly. “Half mortal, half god. His father was mortal.” He moved ahead now, leading the way with a smirk. “In any case, I prefer the company of outcasts.”

Curiosity tugged at the edges of Sorcha’s thoughts, but before she could press further, Kyron motioned them along.

“Well then,” she said, quickening her step. “Let’s go.”

The streets were quiet as they walked, the soft glow of floating lanterns flickering against the glass windows of the buildings. Sorcha’s body was healed, she should have felt fine, but an unease lingered, pressing down on her. She took another step, then stopped when a flicker of movement caught her eye. Her gaze drifted toward the window, and she froze. The breath she pulled in caught halfway, barely reaching her lungs. She’d hardly reconciled any of it-everything in the veil. The near deaths. The weight of her parents’ truth, Vaelric. It was Vaelric’s smile that slipped back into her mind like a splinter. She could feel the echo of the blade, the ghost of where it had pierced her skin, of what he left behind, that kiss of death burning into her. Riona’s face bled through the haze. She looked terrified. But why was she with him? Why did it feel like betrayal?

Heat bloomed under her skin. She could see the shimmer of light and fire curling from her hands, crawling up her arms. Behind her, Kyron and Maelan halted. One of them called her name. Her thoughts pulled her deeper. She was sinking again—That same weightless, frozen feeling she’d known since the banshee. Since the veil. Since she’d started walking through her own life like a shadow. She was unraveling, silent and invisible, in front of them all. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to come undone here. Not now, not like this. The spiral clutched tighter inside her, twisting hard until a hand pressed lightly against her back. She didn’t need to look, she knew it was Maelan. He didn’t speak, he just stood there. She turned to him and his met her eyes, brushing his thumb along her cheek, and nodded. It was all she needed. All that kept her from crumbling. He then squeezed her hand and turned towards Kyron, leading her towards the alcove.

Inside that little alcove, they ate in silence. The little alcove held only a handful of others, their conversations mingling in the air, scents of rosemary, cinnamon, and an odd scent she couldn’t quite name wafting through the space. The warmth was comforting, the soft glow of lanterns flickering overhead, casting golden light against the dark wood. The candles on the tables held Sorcha’s attention as the flames danced, their movements hypnotic in the quiet.

She was lost in thought when the barmbrack arrived. When she lifted a piece to her lips, the scent of dried fruit soaked in tea, brown sugar, and spice filled her senses, and suddenly, her eyes burned with unshed tears. She missed home. The ache was deep, almost suffocating.

She missed the Circle, her friends, the little tea shop in Meadowrun, the way light refracted off her crystal tea pot creating rainbows. Eirin… all the things that reminded her of who she was or who she used to be. For the first time in a long while, she wondered if she would ever be able to go home again. And if she did would it still be the same?

As they finished their meal, silence sat heavy between. It was uncomfortable, the tension so thick that Maelan was fiddling with his utensils, Sorcha pushed food around her plate and Kyron was lost in thought. It was Kyron who finally broke the silence with mentioning that they could stay with his mother or his aunts, Grainne and Fenne, if they wished, and in the morning, they would meet with the Tuatha council.

Sorcha whipped her head up at the mention of their names. “Excuse me, did you just say your aunts were Grainne and Fenne?”

A long pause stretched between them before she practically yelled, “Your mother is Aine!”

Kyron let out a slow sigh, looking slightly annoyed by the outburst. Kyron opened his mouth to respond, but Sorcha wasn’t finished.

“Your mother is the goddess of summer and love? Kyron?! And your aunts just so happen to be the most beautiful women in all of history. Oh yes, hello, goddess! Just dropping in after having your son almost killed on multiple occasions!” Her hands waved wildly as she turned to Maelan. “And you!” She pointed an accusatory finger. “You just met her and didn’t say anything?”

Maelan chuckled. “Yes, I was just as stunned, actually. And yes, Kyron’s mother is gorgeous.” He threw Kyron a smirk and a wink.

Kyron shot him a glare. “Don’t even think about it, Maelan. My mother's off limits.”

Maelan leaned back, arms crossed. “What, you don’t want a new father?”

Sorcha shot them both a look that could kill. “I’m being serious, Maelan.”

Maelan met her stare without hesitation. “So was I.”