The sound of the door opening and closing behind them pulled Seren’s attention away from the bracelet. She straightened and whipped her head around, only to catch sight of Brennon standing there in his usual boots, pants, casual tunic and overcoat. But around his neck was her scarf. Seren swallowed and braved a glance at his face. Although he seemed less tense than he had been of late, his eyes focused on her as if she were the only flicker of flame visible in an endless, dark cavern. The intensity of it made her shiver and her face heat up again.
“Thank you,” she managed, brushing her hair behind her ears, “for the statue. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re very welcome, Seren,” Brenn answered, his voice more formal than usual. “And, I’ve already been reaping the benefits of the scarf you have given me.”
He reached up and brushed it with gloved fingers, his brow furrowing a little, most likely because the gloves prevented him from feeling the soft wool.
An empty silence soon permeated the room, a silence matching the small chasm that was now stretching between them. A lump of disappointment settled in Seren’s stomach. She and Brenn had been making such great progress, and she had to go and ruin it all by letting her glamour get the better of her last night. Biting the inside of her cheek, Seren lowered her eyes and did her best to squash the discontented feeling. There was nothing she could do now. This awkwardness would pass, just as it had after the ritual on Samhain Eve. She just had to give it time.
Brenn was the first one to break the quiet. “I’ve just been to the barn. Our guests will be leaving in an hour or so. I told them we would see them off then.”
“Then let us have breakfast while we’re waiting to bid them farewell,” Seren piped, grateful for this new distraction.
She hurried downstairs, followed by Rori and his uncle. For the next several minutes, she kept busy cooking eggs and scones with Rori as her assistant. Brenn set a kettle over the fire for tea, and soon, the three of them were sitting down to enjoy a simple morning meal.
Rori was the first to finish and eager to get outside to see if he could help the merchants pack up. Seren also suspected he wanted to visit with his new friends for as long as he could before they left Ardun behind for good. His uncle dismissed him and as soon as the boy was gone, Seren felt the silence in the warm kitchen descend upon her with the weight of a mountain. She and Brennon were entirely alone.
Without looking up from the table, Brenn said, “Seren, I want to apologize for last night.”
Seren went completely still, all the blood in her body sinking to her toes.
“I got caught up in the moment, while we were dancing, and, well, if you think I was trying to force–”
“No!” Seren exclaimed, abruptly standing up from the table. “No, I do not think that. I’m sorry, too, for being so bold. During the dance.”
She gave a faltering smile, her face growing warmer by the second. “You see, music can have a powerful effect on the Fahndi. It makes us lose our senses, sometimes, and we do things we would never really do normally.”
Brenn regarded her with calm eyes, something she was glad to see.
“Well, I can’t say I’m entirely sorry about that.” His lips twitched into a canny smile, the same smile that always made her senses tingle. “I’d had a bad encounter with some people at the mistletoe harvest, and I’m certain my mood would have remained black for a whole week if not for those few minutes in the barn last night.”
The edge of anxiety nipping at Seren ever since this conversation began only intensified.
“As soon as I started dancing with you, however,” Brenn continued, “I began to feel lighter. The anger and frustration lingering from the incident in Dundoire Hollow melted away, as if it had never been there.”
Brennon stopped speaking, studying the mug of tea in his hands, then leveled his eyes on her. This time, they weren’t calm. Curiosity and doubt warred together in his gaze, and something else. Whatever it was, it gave Seren the feeling that although Brenn wouldn’t press her, he wanted desperately for her to explain what had happened the night before. She dropped her head and slowly closed her eyes, her fingernails digging into the surface of the kitchen table. She could not tell Brennon what he wanted to know. It would have been one thing for him to figure it out on his own, but to come out and say it aloud? No. He had proven himself a good man, time and time again, but still, she did not feel her trust ran deep enough. That ever-present fear simply wouldn’t make room for it.
Seren drew in a long breath and let it out slowly, then lifted her head so their eyes met once again. Instead of acknowledging the silent question hanging before them, she simply nodded.
“Music has that power, Brenn. The power to banish our fears and replace our worries with joy. That is why it effects the Fahndi so.”
It wasn’t entirely accurate, what she said, but it was the only excuse she could come up with to avoid telling him the truth.
Brennon’s voice was gruff, low with a touch of command when he spoke again. “Seren–”
Seren didn’t give him a chance to continue. She pushed away from the table and pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Please, Brenn. I’m sorry about my behavior last night, truly I am. But it was the music and the dancing and the good company. And, probably, the mead as well. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
She risked a glance at him then. Brenn’s eyes were still dark; still not convinced. But he let his shoulders drop a little and turned away to stare into the fire.
“Of course you are forgiven.”
Seren nodded, her mouth tight. “I think I’ll join Rori in the barn and see if our guests need any help packing up.”
She turned and headed for the exit.
Brenn glanced back up from the fire, his shrewd eyes following Seren as she ascended the small staircase. She hadn’t been entirely honest with him, he could tell by her skittishness. But he would not press her. Instead, he would give silent thanks that whatever she had done had brought him some peace, if only for a small while.
***
Seren was only halfway across the great room when the back door flew open and a breathless Rori came tumbling in.
“Seren!” he bellowed.
She almost shouted in astonishment, her heart leaping into her throat. Instead, she came to an abrupt halt.
“Rori! Hush, I’m right here,” she exclaimed, holding her arm out to him.
“Oh! Sorry, I thought you’d still be in the kitchen.”
He took a few deep breaths then gasped, “Grandmother Peig really wants to see you. She’s down in the barn.”
Seren blinked in surprise, then managed, “Alright. Just let me get into my boots and cloak.”
Curious as to what the old Lorehnin woman might want with her, Seren bundled up as best she could and stepped out into the frigid air. The snow that had fallen the night before left behind a thin blanket of white, and the sky, for once, was free of clouds. A few of the hounds followed her from the house, their eyes now trained on the landscape before them, their noses testing the air. She felt bad for any rabbits or other small animals who might be out enjoying the winter sunshine.
Seren managed to make it down the hill without slipping on any stray patches of ice, which she was grateful for, and found the travelers’ covered wagon just outside the barn, the adults in the midst of strapping the horses into their harnesses. The young girls waved at her while Finghin and Treasa smiled and nodded a greeting.
“Grandmother Peig is waiting for you inside,” Treasa said, in a melodious voice.
Seren gave her a nervous smile and continued into the barn. The familiar, not entirely unpleasant smells of horses, sheep, chickens, dust and hay, along with the tang of smoke from last night’s fire, tickled her nose. The small collection of hens complained from their coop and Ruan, Rori’s red rooster, clucked contentedly as he snoozed in the corner. Dermot stuck his head over his stall, his nostrils flaring and his ears pricked in Seren’s direction. Usually,
she would go over and greet the horse, but Grandmother Peig spotted her and waved her over.
Despite her short stature, crooked posture, collection of wrinkles and one sightless eye, the old woman was a blazing furnace of life. Seren could feel it just as sure as she could sense the cold darkness that often welled up around Brenn.
“I’m glad you’re here. I would read your fortune and pass along some advice before my family and I depart,” the woman croaked, getting right to business.
Seren blinked in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting this. Then again, she hadn’t known what to expect. Grandmother Peig patted the hay bale beside her, and Seren sat down upon it without a second thought.
“Left hand, please,” the woman crooned, holding her own palm out.
Seren complied, almost jerking her hand away when Grandmother Peig flipped it and started tracing the lines in her palm like a half-blind scholar scrutinizing a treasure map.
A few moments passed, then a minute. As she worked, the old woman hummed and traced the lines on Seren’s palm, glancing up at her face every now and then with her good eye. Finally, she drew in a deep breath and let it out, curling Seren’s fingers into a fist with both her weathered hands and holding it shut. She glanced up, her single dark brown eye studying the Fahndi girl intently.
Seren began to grow uncomfortable, but before she could pull her hand away and risk appearing rude, Grandmother Peig said in a quiet voice, “You were so lost, child. Weren’t you? But I believe you’ve found yourself here.” She waved one arm around, indicating the barn and all the land that surrounded it.
Seren gaped in astonishment. Was that true?
“What makes you say that?”
The old woman chuckled, patting Seren’s hand affectionately. Her good eye darted away, and when she spoke again, it was as if she’d left the barn behind, finding herself in a parlor sharing tea with her friends.
“I pretend to read palms,” she stated, almost absently. “But what I really read are hearts. Most of the time, they project themselves on people’s faces, especially when I gain their trust through a comforting gesture, like taking a person’s hand and soothing away their worries. Then, the mask crumbles away, and I can see them.”
“And what do you see?” Seren pressed, her voice a mere whisper.
Grandmother Peig smiled, her few remaining teeth standing out prominently.
“I see a radiant heart trying to shine all its light on those around it, when there is truly only one it desires.”
Seren sucked in a startled breath and jerked her hand free of the woman’s light grasp.
Grandmother Peig didn’t seem offended by Seren’s reaction. Instead, she looked back up at the young woman, her face warm and serene. “Here is my advice for you, dearie,” she said. “A light that burns too bright will soon burn out. Focus that light upon what matters the most, and you will begin to see the world more clearly.”
She reached out and squeezed Seren’s arm, then using the walking stick propped against the hay bale, got to her feet, grunting through the pain in her joints.
“We are leaving soon. My family and I would like to pay a final farewell to Master Brennon and Rori as well. And you, of course. You all have been so kind to us.”
Without a word, Seren ducked her head and strode past the woman, heading back to the house. Her mind was so overwrought with contemplation, she couldn’t decide whether or not Grandmother Peig had been insulted by her behavior. She hoped not. She hadn’t meant to be rude. It was just so disconcerting learning another person could read her so easily.
Firming her bottom lip, Seren lifted her head as she began her climb back up the hill. Regardless of what Grandmother Peig had been hinting at, she was correct on one account. Seren knew if she didn’t rein in her glamour, it would get her in trouble sooner or later. Either she would use too much all at once and kill herself, or someone would see what she was doing and recognize it for what it was. It had been a close call with Brennon, and there was still a good chance he would figure out her secret.
Winter will be over sooner than you think, she reminded herself. Then, it will be spring and you can leave.
Her heart twinged at the very thought of leaving Brenn and Rori behind. They had become her friends and were dearer to her than anyone else in the world, save for her mother. But it was growing too dangerous to stay in Ardun.
Just a little longer, Seren. Just another month or so, and you can be free.
What Seren was forgetting, however, was that she was free to leave any time she wished. Brenn had only wanted her to stay through the winter because of the weather, but a deer knows how to survive in the cold months without the help of the Faelorehn. And there were several places in the Weald that didn’t feel winter’s harsh bite, places isolated from her tribe’s village. But the truth was, she didn’t want to leave. At least, not yet.
As she made her way back to the house, Seren did her best not to think about the little time she had left in this wonderful place where, for the first time in her life, she felt like part of a family.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Coercion
The travelers left a half an hour later, all of them making it a point to say goodbye to Brenn, Seren and Rori. Seren stood apart from Brennon, still unsure of what to make of his odd mood. Grandmother Peig seemed to spend extra time studying both of them, and Seren tried not to squirm under her scrutiny. She wondered if the woman had read Brenn’s palm as well and what she had told him. Perhaps that was part of the reason for his aloofness.
“I’m sorry they’re leaving,” Rori commented morosely, once the three of them had climbed back up to the house.
He stood on the edge of the hill with Seren, so they could watch and listen to the colorful wagon disappear down the road.
“They were nice people,” Seren agreed, placing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him against her side.
The air was chilly, despite the sunshine, and he was shivering. When they could no longer see or hear the wagon, they retreated back inside where a fire, and perhaps a fresh pot of brewed tea, awaited them.
The next few weeks passed by in this manner, with far less excitement than the previous fortnight. Seren and Rori stuck close to the house to avoid the winter weather while Brenn disappeared for several hours most days. Seren didn’t know where he went or what he did, and she didn’t ask. Time was passing, but it seemed the strained distance which had grown between them since the Solstice had not yet diminished. The light conversations they once had in front of the fireplace in the evenings, or over tea after dinner, became the terse, short exchange of words shared between two strangers wishing only to be courteous to one another. Seren tried not to let it upset her. They had been growing so close, it seemed, and now they were drifting apart.
Perhaps it is for the best, she mused, trying to get her heart to agree.
Three weeks after Winter Solstice, Brenn returned home just as twilight was settling upon the land. It had been cloudy all day, and from the great clumps of white clinging to Brenn’s shoulders, the heavy snow promised by the thick clouds had finally arrived.
After hanging up his cloak and jacket, Brenn turned to Rori and Seren. The two of them were enjoying tea and flipping through books near the fireplace.
“I visited Dundoire Hollow this afternoon to see about some meat from the butcher and ran into my friend Artur on the way back. He invited me to go on a boar hunt tomorrow, so long as the snow stops before morning.”
Seren felt Brennon’s gaze on her, but she didn’t look up. She was afraid to look him in the eye these days, not knowing if she’d find her friend there, or a suspicious man extending his protection only because his honor demanded it. Seren clenched her teeth. How had this happened? How had their relationship devolved back to what it had been when they first met? The very thought threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but the only way to fix it was to take Brenn aside and explain everything to him. How her magic could heal grave wounds, how it
was a very rare gift only she and her mother had known about before she so foolishly flaunted it in front of her tribe mates. How she had used it to bring Ruan back from the dead and to chase away Brenn’s nightmares. How she had let it free the night she danced with him around the fire.
Instead, she glanced at Brennon from the corner of her eye. He was focused on his nephew now, his own eyes flinty, the lines around his mouth drawn tight. She couldn’t help but feel it was her fault he’d become so withdrawn.
Before she could think much further on the subject, Rori stood up, almost knocking over his tea cup.
“Can I go on the hunt?” he asked.
Brenn cast him a withering look, the fire in his eyes burning through in the tone of his voice. “Absolutely not. Hunting boar is incredibly dangerous. Even if you were to just come along for the ride, I will not risk an angry, wounded animal taking out its ire on you.”
Rori opened his mouth to protest, but Brenn snapped, “No, Rori. I will not bend on this.”
The boy bit his lip and sat back down, looking as if he might cry.
Seren felt sorry for him, but she agreed whole-heartedly with Brenn. Taking any child on a boar hunt was unthinkable, especially one who was blind.
“What’s wrong with staying here with me, Rori?” Seren asked, her tone placid. “From the looks of it, the snow will be deep tomorrow. We can build snow sculptures in the yard.”
Rori seemed to perk up at her suggestion, and Seren was glad. With her and Brenn both exuding unhappiness like ink clouding water, the last thing she wanted was for Rori to turn gloomy as well.
“If I’m to return at a decent hour tomorrow, I’ll have to leave very early, before dawn,” Brenn said. “I’ll eat dinner now, if you don’t mind, and go to bed early.”
Seren acknowledged his statement with a smile, one he did not return. She abruptly returned her focus to the book she was glancing through. She tried to concentrate on the letters forming the sentences, but the words blurred before her eyes as she listened to Brenn’s heavy footfalls echo up the stairs. Almost a month had passed since the Solstice, and still he remained distant and cold, like the mountains overshadowing Ardun’s wide valley.
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