Page 32 of Kilted Sins

Even as he spoke, he didn’t move. It was Thora who moved first, pushing past him without another word.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Enya swiftly slid behind the barracks, just in time to avoid Cillian. She peeked around the corner as she tried to remain as hidden as possible, her heartbeat quickening and her breath coming in short pants as she thought about just how close she had come to being seen.

She had managed to successfully avoid him for two whole days, even claiming she was unwell so that she wouldn’t have to be present for the dinners they usually shared. For two days, she had stayed away from him and if the fact that they had not crossed paths once until now was an indication Cillian was avoiding her as well. He hadn’t sought her out at all. He had only asked through the maid who brought her the meals in her chambers if she required any assistance, and once Enya had assured the maid—and in turn, Cillian—that it was nothing but a common cold from the time she had spent outside, he had left her alone.

She didn’t know if she preferred this over the alternative. On the one hand, she didn’t have to face him and acknowledge the awkwardness of their situation. On the other, knowing that he, too, was avoiding her only served to make her wonder whether it had all been more of a mistake than she had originally thought. What if the problem wasn’t simply that the tense moments between them were painfully awkward, but rather that Cillian had truly ended up disliking her—or even hating her—after everything she had done to him?

But is this nae what I wished fer? Was this nae me goal from the beginnin’?

Perhaps she had finally achieved it and she would soon be sent home, any plans of a marriage discarded in favor of Cillian’s sanity. Then, this nightmare would come to an end, and Enya would never have to think about Cillian again for as long as she lived.

This is what I wanted. I should be glad he is avoidin’ me.

I want him tae avoid me.

And yet, no matter how much she tried to convince herself this was what she wanted, something still gnawed at her, digging its teeth and talons into her throat. She had no name for what it was; the feeling was as foreign as it was all-encompassing. She could only describe it as a deep, ever-present longing or perhaps even a strange nostalgia, though for what, she could not say. All she knew was that every time she thought about Cillian, a knot formed in her throat and it cut her breath short.

The moment Cillian was gone from her sight, Enya rushed out of her hiding spot and to Skye’s cottage, right at the edge of the castle grounds. Every now and then, she glanced over her shoulder, but Cillian was nowhere to be seen.

She wasn’t sure if she was more disappointed or relieved.

“Thora!” Skye said upon spotting her, smiling warmly at her. Her green eyes crinkled at the corners with true delight but despite the warm greeting, Enya lingered by the door, her gaze falling on the chair by the large table that dominated that side of the room. It was occupied by none other than Archibald.

“Should I come later?” Enya asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Ach, nay, nay,” said Skye as she beckoned her closer. “I’m almost done here.”

Holding up his hand, Archibald gave Enya a smile that was more of a grimace of pain. When she approached, she saw the gash on his palm, a few drops of blood beading over his skin at the movement.

“How did that happen?” she asked, pulling one of the chairs closer to sit next to him and observe as Skye began to wrap the wound. She didn’t try to heal him; her palms itched, her powers thrumming just under the surface of her skin, asking to be released, but Enya ignored them. Not only had Skye taken care of Archibald already, but Enya had done more than enough healing in the span of a few days, with the result of drawing plenty of unwanted attention to herself. If there were complications, she would use her powers, but as long as it was a simple cut, then it would be best to let Archibald heal on his own.

“Trainin’,” he said. “One o’ the swords wasnae as dull as I thought it would be.”

Enya winced in sympathy. “It’s a good thing it was only yer palm. Ye could have injured yerself badly.”

“I suppose it’ll teach me tae nae grab a sword from its blade, even when trainin’,” said Archibald with a small shrug.

“A terrible habit,” said Enya. Despite telling Cillian not that long ago that she had no desire to train, she had to admit that a part of her missed it now. It had been such a big part of her life growing up and up until she was sent off to Jura, her brothers always let her and Thora join their training sessions. Now that she had gone so long without sparring, save for that disastrous exchange with Cillian, she had to admit she missed it.

Maybe Archibald will train with me.

“I miss workin’ with a sword,” Enya said with a soft sigh. Maybe what she truly missed was being around her siblings and spending time with them, but this was the closest she could come to having them by her side while she was in Jura. “It’s been too long since I last trained with someone.”

“Wasnae the fight with Cillian enough fer ye?” Archibald asked with an amused chuckle and Enya’s cheeks flooded with heat, not only at the memory but also the fact that Archibald had mentioned it at all. Had Cillian told him what had happened afterwards, when he had caught her, she wondered? He must have. Archibald was one of his closest friends, after all.

“That was hardly trainin’,” Enya said with an indignant huff, trying to hide her embarrassment as best as she could. “Ye saw what happened. He mocked me an’ then couldnae accept his defeat. But ye wouldnae dae that, would ye, Archibald? Willnae ye train with me?”

“Me?” Archibald said, as if he was surprised to be asked at all. Before long, though, his surprise morphed into something else; something Enya would almost call sly or conniving. It was an odd look on him, as though his usually gentle and kind appearance was too much at odds with this new and strange expression. “Aye. I’ll train with ye. On the morrow?”

Enya faltered, unsure of what to say now that Archibald was looking at her like this. Still, she had been the one to suggest it. How could she take it back now?

“Alright,” she said. “On the morrow.”

When Archibald smiled at her, Enya couldn’t help but think she was agreeing to something she would regret.

“What are ye doin’ here?”