Page 59 of Kilted Sins

The only regret she had was that Kai was there, watching her die, and that she wouldn’t get to say goodbye to the rest of her siblings and Ava. Still, Enya was at peace with her decision—a life for a life. Deep down, she had always known this would be her fate. She was simply glad she got to save someone she loved.

A powerful wind picked up around her, howling through the land and whipping at the faces of those who stood near. Feeling the wound stitching itself back together, Enya reached for the sgian dubh and grasped it firmly, pulling it out with a grunt and discarding it to the side, before her hands pressed against the wound again to finish the job. She was close, so close; it was only a matter of moments before Cillian would wake up.

And then suddenly, she tasted blood in her mouth, thick and metallic. Blood dripped from her nose, too, splashing over her hands, and before Cillian could even open his eyes, all of her strength deserted her. She had nothing left to give. She had nothing left, and Cillian was still unconscious.

Her last thought before she collapsed in Kai’s arms, the life drained out of her, was, have I failed again?

The castle was quiet ever since Cillian had returned with his men. Despite their victory, no one was celebrating. How could they, when they had seen Cillian carry Enya, deathly pale and waxen, refusing to let anyone else even touch her?

There was no pulse he could detect, no breath from her lips, but every now and then, he thought he could feel a faint, slow beat of her heart as he pressed his fingers against her wrist, and although her body was cold, it was not so cold as to suggest she was dead. He knew nobody but himself believed she still lived. He had seen the grief and the pity in Archibald’s face as he had placed Enya on his bed, curling up next to her so that he could watch her and make sure nothing else happened to her. He had seen how Kai had held Thora and Ava, the three of them inconsolable. Thora looked so broken, Cillian was afraid she’d follow her twin out of grief.

Still, he refused to believe she was gone. She couldn’t be. Then Cillian, too, would have no reason to keep on living.

Though it had been hours since they had returned from the cottage, Cillian was still there, in bed with Enya. He had not even bothered to clean himself up, still covered in grime and blood and sweat, but none of it mattered to him. He couldn’t move. It was as though his body was suspended in time, frozen next to Enya, and the only thing he could still do was pray to God for her to wake up.

With his fingers still curled around her wrist, feeling for any signs of a pulse, Cillian swallowed around the knot in his throat, blinking away the sting of tears.

“Please, Enya,” he whispered, his voice barely audible even to his own ears. “Please, wake up.”

His pleas only continued as he lay there, turning more and more desperate until he was screaming himself hoarse, nothing but a wordless wail leaving his lips. No pain could compare to this, nor was there enough time in the world for the wound to heal. He could spend an eternity trying to get over Enya’s death and he knew it would always hurt just as much as it did now, with no hope of salvation in the future.

“Please!” Cillian roared, a sob catching in his throat. “Come back, Enya, please!”

He didn’t know who might be gathered outside his chambers, listening to him. The entire castle could be there and it wouldn’t stop him, it wouldn’t make a difference. Let them hear, he thought. Let them hear and know how he had failed again, how he couldn’t protect her at all.

Just as his grief took over and he rolled away from Enya, drawing his knees up to his chest as he sat on the bed, he heard a ragged gasp and turned to see Enya bolt upright, her eyes wide and her hands shooting out for something to grab onto. Within seconds, Cillian was right there, clutching her hand and holding it to his chest, his other hand resting against the back of her head to pull her close.

“Enya,” he said, unable to hold back the tears anymore. He had tried for so long, but now it was as though a dam had broken, releasing everything as relief washed over him. “Ye’re alive. Ye’re safe.”

Enya was trembling against him, taking deep, laborious breaths. She was still freezing, her body cold even under the blankets Cillian had draped over her, and her shock was palpable, twisting like a living thing between them. Cillian wished he could take it all away, but what could he do other than hold her in his arms and reassure her again and again that she was alive?

Had she died, he wondered? Had she gone somewhere else and had now somehow returned to him? Had God listened to his prayers and seen how desperate he was to have her back?

It was nothing short of a miracle. Even now, with Enya clutching onto him, her fingers curling into his shirt, her breath against his neck, her heartbeat pulsing strong and fast, it all felt like a dream from which he feared to wake.

“What happened?” Enya asked, sounding so weak that Cillian couldn’t help but wrap his arms even more tightly around her, wishing to protect her from everything and everyone.

He didn’t know how to explain any of it. Cillian himself didn’t even really know what had happened and he was hoping Enya would have a better idea than he did, but it seemed they were both in the dark. The only thing he could do was give her the simplest version of the events.

“Dae ye remember when Duncan stabbed me in the chest?” he asked, pulling back a little to push the collar of his shirt down and reveal the small scar that still lingered over his heart. “Ye healed me. I was almost dead, Enya, an’ ye… ye wouldnae wake up afterwards.”

Enya looked down at her hands, frowning a little. “I remember,” she said. “I shouldnae… I shouldnae have woken up from this. I should be dead now. I was at peace with it.”

A part of Cillian wanted to admonish her for it, to ask why she would even think about saving him when she knew she would lose her own life, but if their roles had been reversed, he knew he would have done the same. He couldn’t blame her for something he would have done as well, and besides, it was hardly the time to have such a conversation.

Later, he would make her promise to never do such a thing again, even if it meant Cillian’s death. But for now, he only held her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“But ye didnae,” he said. “Ye’re here. Ye’re here with me.”

For a long time, the two of them stayed like that, neither of them willing to move. Cillian knew he had to inform everyone, especially her family, that Enya was alive and seemingly unharmed, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her even for a single moment.

Soon enough, it turned out he didn’t have to. A knock on the door startled them both, and once Cillian called their visitor in, he saw Thora there, swaying for a moment before she seemed to notice that Enya was awake. Then, there was no stopping either of them. Weak as she was, Enya got out of bed, stumbling over to her sister, and Thora grabbed her to pull her in her arms, holding on so tightly that Cillian doubted either of them could breathe.

“Enya,” Thora said around a sob, her fingers digging into Enya’s shoulders. “Never dae that again! Never! We thought we had lost ye.”

“I ken… I ken,” Enya said, crying too. “Forgive me, Thora, but I couldnae let anythin’ happen tae Cillian.”

Thora glanced at Cillian over Enya’s shoulder, crying so much she couldn’t breathe. There was a chill to her gaze, something that wasn’t quite as friendly as when they had first met, but Cillian could hardly blame her after everything. Had their roles been reversed, he would be blaming her for what Enya had done too.