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Triona glances at me, her gaze softening, but the edge of her smirk remains. “Maybe not, but it wasn’t for him. It was for me. After everything, I needed to feel strong again.”
As I look at her, I know two things: she’ll never stop surprising me, and gods help me—I’ll never stop wanting what I can’t have.
Triona
Sunday, 18 May 1823
Eighth Day Out at Sea
As I finish the last word of Frankenstein, I close the book with a soft thud and release a contemplative sigh. The story lingers in my mind, its weight settling in my chest. “That was brilliant,” I murmur, the fondness in my voice unmissable.
Beside me, Casey lounges against the side of the boat, hands tucked behind his head, long legs stretched out as if he owns the space. His easy sprawl clashes with the stiffness in my legs and the numbness creeping into my backside—a reminder of how long I’ve been perched on this wooden bench, lost in Shelley’s words while the boat rocks beneath us.
A few paces away, Bran, Callan, and Finn sit in contemplative silence, their gazes shifting between the open water and the worn pages in my hands. They’re listening, but their minds drift—half here, half caught in the world the story has spun around us.
Casey’s gaze drifts toward the sky. “It’s eerie. The creature wasna born a monster. He just wanted to belong, to be loved. But he became something dark because no one could see him as anythin’ else.”
Bran, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, speaks. “It’s tragic—and familiar,” he muses, his voice thoughtful. “A soul rejected, forced into the shadows because the world wouldn’t make room for him.”
Casey shifts, his face taking on that rare thoughtful look. One I used to tease him about as a child. “Do ye remember Ma’s story about Lugh Lámhfhada?” he asks suddenly, turning to meet my gaze.
“Aye, the master of many skills,” I say, recalling the tale with a smile. “He had to prove himself to the Tuatha Dé Danann—show that he was worthy of their favour. They tested him, but when he succeeded, he earned his place among the greatest beings of his world.”
Casey nods, his expression thoughtful. “Ma always said if they’d turned him away, he might’ve become like the creature. Bitter, desperate, tryin’ to prove himself for the wrong reasons. But Lugh was lucky. He found his place. The creature… he never had that chance.”
“There’s a truth in there,” Finn says, his tone thoughtful. “We should treat those we dinnae understand with decency. “
I glance at him, a small smile forming. “Exactly. That’s the real test of humankind. Who knows what one might become if we give them a chance?”
Casey’s nod is slow and deliberate. “That’s what makes Triona different, lads,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “Most folk wouldn’t pity the creature—they’d fear him. They see the surface and stop there, never thinkin’ what’s beneath. But she’s always had a way of lookin’ deeper. Seein’ what could be, not just what is.”
His words hit me like a warm light in the cold. Casey’s rare compliments always settle in places I didn’t know needed filling.
I blink at him, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “By my troth. Was that a compliment? From you?”
He huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Dinnae let it go to yer head.”
I deflect. “Maybe it’s just because Ma raised us with those stories. She made sure we knew there’s more to a person than what the world sees.”
He nudges me with his elbow, a wry smile softening his words. “Dinnae go givin’ Ma all the credit. That kindness? That’s all you. I see it in the way ye treat folk, even when they dinnae deserve it… even when your brother’s huv’nae earned it.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Gods know what you’ve ever done to earn it. Miraculous, really.”
“Miraculous? I’m a proper saint for puttin’ up with you.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’re my family…. that’s reason enough, I guess.”
He falls quiet for a moment, his grin fading into something softer, more genuine. Callan exhales, glancing toward me before speaking, his voice steady. “Aye, we’re family. But it’s more than that, Triona. Ye’ve got this way of makin’ folk feel like they matter—like they belong. Casey and I… we’d be lost without ye, truly. Ye keep us steady—keep us whole. It’s no small thing what ye give us.”
Bran nods, his voice quieter but firm. “He’s right. You’ve got a way of holding people together, even when they don’t know they need it. You’re something to come back to—you feel like home, in a way.”
Casey chimes in next, nudging me lightly with his elbow. “Aye, even when we’re bein’ right impossible, you never give up on us. No matter how much we bicker, ye’d stay by us if the entire world turned its back.”
Finn, who has been listening silently, finally speaks, his tone filled with certainty. “It’s why we stand with ye, Triona. At all costs.”
Their words settle around me, warm and solid, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. I just let myself hold on to the feeling, letting it root itself deep within me.
A lump forms in my throat as warmth spreads through my chest. I blink rapidly, feeling the sting of unshed tears. “Thank you… all of you,” I say softly, my voice trembling just enough for them to notice. A half-laugh escapes me as I swipe a hand across my eyes. “Now stop before I start crying like a bairn.”
