On Fallen Wings (17 page)

I nodded politely. “Thank you. Good Season.” Andrea always made me smile. Her memory wasn’t great, but she was always sincere, and kind.

Leila tugged at my shawl. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“Leila!” Mother pointed at my sister. “Rhiannon asked you to leave her alone.” Then she turned to me. She held a biscuit in her hand. “Cael left the celebration early.”

Mother’s words pulled like a heavy stone tied to my heart. Cael had annoyed me, but I never had wished for him to miss the sacred celebration. I lowered my shoulders, regretting my forceful tone and words. I wondered if he had told Mother of my rudeness.

“He was assigned watch over the meadow,” said Mother, as if reading my thoughts. She placed the bread in the bottom of a young man’s bowl. “Owen asked him to patrol—lest the bandit try to cause trouble during the celebration.”

Several villagers in our little crowd murmured at the unpleasant reminder. I turned to look, and noticed one worried woman in the back scurry away and disappear in the darkness. Relieved that I wasn’t the cause of Cael’s early exit from the dance, I scooped another spoonful of stew.

“Was Nia with him?” I asked. “Or with her father?” I wanted to visit with my friend again.

Mother shook her head and resumed serving the crowd. They leaned their faces close, as if they wanted to hear the detailed breaths of our conversation. I muttered a disappointed groan and stopped talking, causing many of them to lean back and offer their own comments on the evening.

Later, after everyone was fed and the stewing kettle emptied, I rolled a short stump from our firewood pile and sat down to relax. Taking the weight off my feet allowed a savory sensation of tiny tingles to shoot up my legs. I stretched them straight until the bottom of my gown lifted off the snow. Mother chose a small log and sat next to me. She leaned her arms forward and warmed her fingers over the small flames. We sat quietly for a while, indulging in our simple pleasures, while watching Ethan and Leila wave long sticks in the air. The ends of their sticks were burning, and my siblings’ motions created magnificent symbols and designs as the darkness captured the glow.

Leila made a single dot in the air and circled it with a spiral. “Look,” she said, triumphantly. “I made the faerie symbol for love.”

“That’s abounding compassion,” I said, offering a correction. “Love is two circles joined together.”

Leila aimed her stick again and twisted it in circles while trying to create the image. Despite her efforts, the light effect was wrong. She blew loudly from her pouted lips and stabbed the stick back into the fire. Meanwhile, Ethan thrust his stick in the air as if battling the night with the bright glow of its end.

“Look, Mother,” he said, jabbing it into the moonlight. “I have a flaming sword.”

We chuckled while we watched him play. The glowing edge fascinated me, and I found myself refusing to look away. Each wild design left images that burned in my mind when I closed my eyes. I reached down and retrieved the stick Leila had relinquished. After a practice twirl, I created two glowing circles overlapping, the perfect symbol for love.

“Come here, Leila,” I said, extending my arm. “I’ll show you how to make the symbol.”

Leila had been watching. She rushed to me and grabbed the stick from my grip.

“Careful,” I said, reaching out to hold her. “Let me guide you. It isn’t as easy as it appears.”

Leila scowled. “How come you can do it?” She waved her arm before I could grab it.

“Practice,” I answered. “The Fae do much more than dance. The perfect faerie can heal the afflicted, lift the hearts of those around her, and write flawlessly in the old language.” I moved her arm in a single circle. “The trick for love…is to first master the perfect circle.” I released her hand. “Practice the single circle a couple of times. The single circle is the blessing of one. It must be perfect before attempting another.”

Leila tried to make the circle, but the result was the same as before. She made a wobbling line that connected and meant nothing.

I stood behind her and guided her hand. “There,” I told her. My effort with her hand wasn’t perfect, but a closer replica of the circle. I repeated the move with her. “That’s it. See, you’ve done half.”

“That’s too hard,” she said, repeating the motion carefully and slow. “Why can’t love be one circle? It’s easier.”

“Because love needs two,” answered Mother. The glowing designs reflected in her eyes. “Without two lovers accepting each other, one merely knows desire.”

Leila’s next motion made a perfect circle.

“That was great!” I said, clapping my praise. “Now, would you like to try the second?”

Leila handed me the stick. “No, go ahead,” she said, groaning while taking my seat. “That’s too hard. I’m not ready for love.”

Her answer made Mother laugh. “That’s good, dear.” She reached over and stroked Leila’s hair. “You’re learning.”

Leila yawned. “Mother, when will Father be back? I’m tired, and my feet are cold.”

“You will see him in the morning,” she said. “Why don’t you go to sleep?” She turned to Ethan, whose invisible battle had faded to a few weary swipes with his arm. “You too, Ethan,” she said. “It has been a long day.”

Ethan attempted a protest, but Mother relieved him of his weapon and tossed it into the fire. While my younger siblings crawled under thick furry blankets, I quietly searched the cart for my cloak. The night cold had caught me; my arms shook with chill.

“Climb into your tent,” said Mother, stepping out of the covered canvas.

I looked at her, puzzled at her tone. “I can help you straighten the mess,” I said, resigning the search for my cloak.

“No, thank you,” she answered. She grabbed my hand. “I know that you’re tired. Why don’t you get some rest?” She pulled me close.

Surprised at her abundant warmth, I accepted it with her embrace.

“You were wonderful, tonight,” she whispered.

I refused to let her go. The day had been exceptional and exhausting. “I’m not certain if I want this day to end,” I told her. “Everything will be different next season.” My words enlightened my realization of the moment—I was scared of the future. It was unknown. When I married, I would have to grow up. Soon, I would take the role of the responsible wife.

“You’re right, Rhiannon,” Mother whispered. “Everything must change. That is how we grow.” She pulled away and stared at me. She was crying—I had never seen Mother cry. “Now, go to sleep and accept your dreams.”

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and nodded. “I love you, Mother. Goodnight.”

Maeia

Weeks had passed since the snow at Stone Meadow. The days turned colder and lonelier than I had imagined they would be, and no messages had come from Sean. I spent every sunset staring out my bedroom window, searching the barren trees of Taylor’s Ridge and sending wishful kisses toward the direction that Sean had left me. Life was gray and solitary, except during those moments when the setting sun’s colorful rays captured my longing and joined it with his memory in the eastern mountains.

Mornings were difficult. After shrouded nights of empty dreams, I fought entry to the cold. At our early meals, I stared at the field through the large window in our dining room. Frosty crystals had woven magical designs on the glass in front of me. Each time I looked, I saw a different image of Sean.

“You’re doing it again,” said Leila, loudly.

I stopped staring and looked over at my sister. “You’re wrong,” I said, “I wasn’t doing it.”

She grinned mischievously. “You were humming. Mother, did you hear Rhiannon humming?”

Mother just smiled and refused to enter our fray.

I scowled back at my sister, “See, I wasn’t. Don’t tease me.”

Ethan joined the attack; he must have sensed my weakness. “I heard it,” he said. “You started staring, like this.” He made a mocking face, widening his eyes and straightening his mouth. “Then you moaned, or hummed, or something.”

Releasing a long sigh, I stabbed my morning bacon with my knife. “Well, maybe I was humming,” I admitted. “That doesn’t mean that I always do it.”

“Yes, it does.” Ethan and Leila answered in unison, and giggled together.

A heavy pounding on the front door echoed down the hall. I jumped from my spot at the bench and quickly excused myself, eager to escape the teasing. When I reached the door, the pounding rocked again and shook the floor. Casually, I unfastened the brass latches and swung open the heavy door.

“You’re beautiful in the morning.”

My knees buckled and my breath escaped me. A chill raced through me, but it wasn’t from the weather.

“Sean.” My words barely escaped.

Tears from the deepest well of gratitude flooded my eyes and overflowed. I covered my mouth.
If this is a dream—let it continue.
I was awake. Sean stood at my doorstep. He was bundled in fur and barely recognizable. His eyes gave him away. I loved his dark eyes.

“I missed you,” he said. “May I come inside, or do you want me to go home first and change?”

His words melted my frozen limbs and suddenly I was laughing and crying and pulling him into a fierce embrace, as if I could meld the two of us together so tightly that we would never again be parted. He reached around me and held me close. I could tell he was weak, but I didn’t care. Sean was holding me. We were both talking at once, our words tumbling over each other in joyful confusion.

“…missed you so much…”

“…never leave you again…”

“…can’t believe you’re really here…”

“…you’re beautiful…”

“… I love you…”

“Close the door, so the man can get warm,” grumbled Father from behind me.

I looked up from Sean’s shoulder and saw my family standing in the hall. Leila and Mother were wiping their eyes. When I released Sean, he reached back and leaned against the open door, forcing it shut. It banged closed, flooding the hallway with darkness.

“Come into the dining room,” ordered Father, reaching past me to offer his arm to my fiancé. “We’re eating. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Sean answered, wincing as my father released his hand. “I’ve been missing a good meal.”

As we shuffled through the hall and into the dining room, I sniffled and wiped away tears that refused to stop falling. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sean, from his dear face, now worn and weary. In his absence, he had grown a beard.

“When did you get back?” asked Leila, taking his coat as he removed it. She hung it on the wall near the fireplace.

“Today,” Sean answered. He stretched his arms wide and yawned. “I crossed over the ridge this morning.”

“Have you been home yet?” I asked. “Did you stop to visit your father?”

Sean shook his head and walked toward the fireplace. He removed a torn sweater and a pair of thick gloves with holes in the fingers. He rubbed his hands and sighed with content while absorbing the energy from the fire. I stood behind him and massaged his shoulders and neck. Mother brought him a large plate full of steaming biscuits and bacon.

“Enjoy the food, Sean,” she said, smiling. “We have plenty more for you.”

Sean stared at the plate for less than a moment and dug his fingers into the food, ignoring the knife and fork. Leila giggled, but Father quickly pulled her away.

I lowered myself to the floor, watching in sympathy while Sean attacked his plate. “You must be starving,” I said. Inside, I wept; I made him like this; I had sent him away.

Mother touched my shoulder. When I looked up at her, she held a second large plate. I quietly took it from her and held it in front of Sean. He looked up at us and then wiped his mouth and beard.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His words were broken, and he took a moment to think before every word. “I forgot to be polite.” He stood and handed the empty plate to Mother. “I’ve missed your cooking. This food is wonderful.” He took the plate I offered with one hand and led me to the table with the other. “I can eat at the table. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

Sean took a seat on the bench facing the window and I snuggled next to him. Leila and Ethan fought for places across from us and leaned over the table.

“Children, let the man eat,” scolded Mother. She placed a goblet of steaming cider on the table in front of Sean.

Sean took a long drink, then closed his eyes and sighed in appreciation. “Oh, that’s good.” He turned to Mother. “It’s all right, Keelia. The children aren’t any bother.”

I rested my head on his shoulder and stroked the side of his beard with my fingers. The hair was oily and course; I did my best to ignore its smell.

“Do you like it?” asked Sean, smiling.

I shook my head and answered honestly. “No,” I told him. “But it’s good to have you back. I’ll take whatever I can.”

“Did you find a horse?” said Ethan, still leaning across the table.

“Ethan!” Mother and I shouted at my brother’s outburst. I covered my mouth with my hands and waited for Sean’s response.

Sean chuckled. “I’ll talk to your sister alone. After that, you’ll be the next to know my answer.” He reached across the table and tousled Ethan’s hair. “Is that fair?”