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“Can we talk a moment?”
Cold shot through my spine as I immediately thought of our night together a couple of months ago. Drust’s eyebrows straightened in concern. I was still turning up to our sessions, and we were most recently practising physical control, but controlling what was outside of us remained out of reach for me.
“Of course,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t be our normal exchange of ideas and smirked quips.
“Things can get chaotic in the caverns,” he said as we began slowly walking back, it had warmed up quickly this year and invited an abundance of flower heads to appear in the valley. Just like Ēostre was a celebration for the Seelie, Litha was coming around just as quickly as the last festival. “Sometimes it can feel like everyone expects you to know your role, especially when it’s something whole families get involved with.”
“I can’t imagine people coming together like this from the town I came from. Was it the same back in Falias? Big celebrations?”
He nodded. “Generally, however many days the celebration is, we’ll have the same to prepare. The cities don’t run themselves, but it gives people something to look forward to.”
There had still been no word about his parents. Every few weeks he postponed our sessions to travel to another camp. He told me one afternoon that it was in case they were among the injured. I selfishly wanted to travel with him, if only to see more, but it felt like I would be asking to join him on a pilgrimage. I didn’t know how he found the energy to hope and I tried to give him a space to see that.
“What does your family normally help to prepare?”
“When they worked, they were in the Second Council, which is normally food. Priority number one, isn’t it? Making sure everyone has food.” It should be, I thought in response, thinking of the differences between them-and-us and just-us. He moved back in conversation. “I meant it can get crazy in the enclosed sense too. I realise that’s probably something you’ve never done before. It can feel like it’s pressing in on me sometimes.”
Like I’d suspected this conversation was something else, I knew it was also an invitation. A depth echoed back at me. It said I know, I’ve been there, but I’m here if it’s too much. I felt pieces of me quicken and still in tandem, like I couldn’t breathe. The polite span of time for a response passed quickly, and although I couldn’t help but think of the expectation to manage it from my past, I was tempted. To have company in the dark.
The part of me that quickened arrived at panic and wanted to leave our conversation at that. What did it matter if I wasn’t planning to stay here anyway?
“It is what it is, at least you know the truth about why I’m still turning up to our sessions.” I indicated around us to the open air and the late afternoon day.
“What about your walks past Pelthas?,” he said, “I’m not sure if we know where some of those passages go. Found anything interesting?”
“It’s been thousands of years here. I’d be surprised if I did find anything. There’s only so far I can go whilst it’s still light, don’t really fancy going at night either.” I marked my way when I explored. There were often colour differences in the rock, but I’d only found something interesting once— stratum that almost glowed at the time of day I’d found it, the quartz layer had formed a wave around the cavern.
I couldn’t stop my mind turning back to the meetings we’d had with the council. Was this a situation where what we talked about would be fed back? We’d learnt so little about what the Unseelie were doing, and I was beginning to loathe the fact that I’d had to make a choice in the first place. If Mum had known about any of this, did she regret not talking about any of it? It was so different from our world at Joanne’s antique shop, it could’ve been from a different life already. My chest ached a little, remembering the strawberry plants in the little yard to the side.
He turned his head to look at me as we slowed, nearing the entrance. It was quiet. “It can be disheartening, when all I’ve ever done is try to serve the council, some people still only see me for what my mother’s and grandfather’s actions were. I believe in what the Seelie do though, and in return I choose how I want to live.” I met his gaze and even as I kept my breathing natural, I could see what he might be doing.
“But people will think what they will.” He shrugged slowly. “What’s important is how I feel about it and whether I truly believe I can follow my own judgement.”
His words echoed in my head as I examined them one at a time. Part of me heard all these words of concern, whilst another part wanted to retreat further into the silence, angry at the disturbance. They weren’t worried about Drust’s judgement. Were they worried about my judgement? “And I guess I shouldn’t be trusting my judgement at the moment? Has this come from Áine?”
“That’s not—”
Pain unexpectedly sprouted up my throat. It urged me to broach the night I’d told myself not to bring up. “Was my judgement flawed on Ēostre?” All things considered, life overturned, I did think I’d been managing. There was a brief moment when I considered the contrast in our cultures, but I had hoped that Drust and Áine would at least see it from my eyes.
“You tell me,” he said quietly, expression hardening.
I gripped my coat around me, not knowing how to respond but getting more frustrated the longer the silence grew. “I’m fine, and if Áine asked you to speak to me, she should know she can speak to me herself. Better yet, see the effort I’m putting in to help with whatever I can.”
I turned to head back inside when he said after me, “We see you withdrawing. She has tried, and I hate to use that as a point, but if you haven’t noticed, that might be worth examining too.”
The thorns clung to me. I hoped I had enough self-awareness to notice if darkness draped over my thoughts, but I wouldn’t have admitted it in that moment even if I had recognised it.