CHAPTER SIXTEEN

We walk the rest of the way, the incline becoming too steep for Niamh to carry us both safely. The darkness of night is starting to recede when we crest the hill, and the view stops me in my tracks. Below us, hugging the foot of the hill, is Elenlea.

It stretches before my eyes, a large, sprawling collection of houses and stone laneways. It's much smaller than Rhyton but what strikes me most is how … flat it is. There's not a high rise building in sight. It's a city still mostly asleep, although there are lit windows scattered throughout. From this height, I can make out a silver lake on the other side of the city, and a wide stream snaking away from it into the darkness.

As we make our way down the slope that's much gentler on this side towards the city, the birds start their morning song and the woods behind us slowly come to life. More life than I've heard prior to being here – the Realm, whatever that means, is bursting at the seams with it. Mornings in Rhyton were filled with the sounds of the Guard beginning their training, weapons clashing, coffee machines starting, and the constant whirring of fans. There was no birdsong, no scurrying of creatures in the undergrowth, and certainly no gentle breeze on my face. Rhyton was only ever scorching heat or crushing storms.

Niamh huffs in the cold air, stirring the fog that laces around our ankles. Despite the devastating promise I made last night, what I need to leave behind, the vision of Elenlea shines a little light on my heart.

Lochlain leads me through the outskirts of the city. Niamh, walking beside him, sets a pace that says she knows where she's going and is eager to get there. The houses we pass are mostly two or three storey homes with colourful shutters and doors. Balconies grace the fronts of the houses like eyelashes, pots of overflowing flowers bursting with colour on each one. The stone paved street we walk down is quiet but I imagine a horse would not be out of place here, even at its busiest time. Not like it would be in Rhyton.

As we walk, people start appearing on those balconies with a hot drink in hand or in the street to begin their days.

'Nice to see you back, sir,' a voice calls down from one of the balconies.

An older man is joined by a woman dressed in a vibrant pink and red robe. She smiles down as Lochlain waves back at them, tugging her robe closed a bit tighter. Lochlain keeps walking but I can't drag my eyes away as the man turns to the woman and a mug of something floats towards her open hands. A move it appears they've made a thousand times.

Looking back to the street and the other houses, there's a joy here I don't remember seeing in Rhyton. Time to drink in the breeze and savour a moment – but that could be a product of my captivity. We turn down a narrow lane-way, Niamh's hooves a rhythmic clopping on the cobblestone that's cool beneath my bare and dirty feet.

Halfway down, Lochlain takes us through a wooden gate and leads Niamh into the empty stables on the right. Setting her up with feed and water, he brushes down her pale caramel coat and dark mane while I sit on the haystack outside her stall and wait. The full swing of morning is just around the corner when Lochlain puts the brushes away and sits beside me.

'Ready to meet my sister?' he asks.

His body is close to mine and the usual hum sings between us, asking me to lean into him. Perhaps it's the sensation of the magic that runs in his veins.

'Are you sure this is safe?' I ask, not really answering his question.

'It is for the moment. Ciara knows what I do. We … work together,' he says, and my eyes fly to his face. Even if I couldn't feel his affection for her, it's written all over him. My heart clenches. 'Siosal won't look for us here,' he says and I like the way his use of 'us' slides warmth along my chest. 'Not yet. He doesn't know I was still there when you left and Haryk will be helping to subtly suggest Ohdran. But he'll work it out'—he glances at me—'and you can't be here when he does.'

I bump his arm gently with my shoulder.

'Would you think it weak of me to want to stay in this moment and not go inside?' The air ripples around us and he breathes deeply.

'Weak is not how I would describe you, no. But why would you want to stay and not … move on with your life?'

I sigh.

'Because everything is behind me now,' I say. 'My life. My friends. Will.' I breathe through my nose. 'Because the General – Siosal … what he can do and the things he said … no one should be able to do that and he … thinks he knows me.' Lochlain tenses but my need to say it out loud remains. The thought of losing my tie to this man is a stone in my stomach.

'The moment I step into that house,' I say, inclining my head towards where he wants us to go, 'I start the process of leaving everything. The only family I have, but … also any opportunity I have of finding something about my past.'

'Do you know him?' he asks, the surprise clear in his tone.

'No,' I say. 'Definitely not.'

Lochlain doesn't move, the tension in his shoulders mirrored in the sensation in the small space between us. His thoughtful gaze runs over my face, as if I'm a problem to be solved.

'There's just something—' I laugh sadly. 'You'll think I'm crazy.'

His eyebrows furrow further. 'Why would I think that?'

I don't answer and he nudges me with his knee. 'I won't think that.'

I glance at his dancing eyes and back to the hay beneath us.

'I just know – I feel – like I'm closer than ever to answers that have eluded me my whole life. And now I'm having to walk away from that, too. To save my life, sure. But – well, that doesn't feel as important without those I love. Once I get off this prickly haystack'—I examine the ground—'any dreams I had for my future are gone. I will simply cease to exist.'

Lochlain waits a moment before speaking. 'You will always exist, Lish, especially to those that love you – and it's clear there are those that do.'

He considers his words and I close my eyes against the warmth coming from him. If I let it in I might not ever leave, and I can't risk his safety, too.

'They will never stop looking to you, even if they cannot physically reach you, and their hearts alone yearn for you. You will always exist.'

Tears line my eyes as his words start to resemble those of the librarian – another person snatched from me too soon. Another I should have helped in time. Another I didn't know needed my help before it was too late.

'Someone said something similar to me once,' I say. 'But I didn't get a chance to know him well.'

His eyes widen slightly and then he nods slowly, as if he suddenly understands something.

'Well,' he says, hopping off the hay and dusting it off his cloak without looking at me. He clears his throat. 'For what it's worth, you will always exist to me. I don't generally try to drown most girls, so I'll always remember that, at least.'

I smile softly at him and he looks up, his eyes dark and holding his hand out like he did at the compound.

'And you can ask us anything you like,' he says. 'Shall we?'

Lochlain knocks softly four times before the door is swung wide by an incredibly beautiful woman. The resemblance between them is remarkable. She has the same full mouth and liquid eyes, although the rings in hers are more gold than copper, and a glossy, dark brown plait over her shoulder. A narrow, intricate tattoo runs up the side of her neck. Her gaze rakes over me quickly as she motions us through the door.

'You've got a story and a half to tell,' she says to Lochlain as he moves to walk ahead of her.

Following, I find myself in a cosy blue and white kitchen, with an island bench that looks over a casual sitting room. I pause to take it in, the homeliness of the house calling to a long-lost memory.

She walks to me slowly, her face open and friendly. 'I'm Ciara,' she says with a gentle incline of her head.

'This is Lish.' Lochlain pauses and she looks at him sideways.

I offer what I hope is a warm smile. Despite the uncertainty in my heart about where the road after this leads.

'It's lovely to meet you, Ciara.'

She studies us for a moment before deciding that we each need to be cleaned up, eat, and sleep before any stories are exchanged. Lochlain is left to his own devices while I am ushered upstairs and quickly given a large, plush towel. She shows me the main bathroom and the room I will be staying in just down the hall. With an instruction to take my time and sleep before I re-emerge downstairs, I plan to do exactly that. After a delightfully warm, running shower, I pad my way to the bedroom where I pay no heed to the things around me and make straight for the large, inviting bed.

•

It's about mid-afternoon when I wake, marvelling at the cloud-like softness of the bed. I pull the covers around my neck and turn to face the window. Part of me wishes to stay here forever, cocooned in softness and warmth with a view to the outside. The part of me that wants to deny what I have to do, ignore the questions that are clambering in my mind. But the greater demand in my heart is to keep my friends safe from General Siosal and, to do so, I need to disappear.

The bedroom is soothing, with softly patterned wallpaper and plush carpet. There is enough room for a large bed and a wing-backed armchair in the corner, separated by a well-loved rug. Ciara has left a pile of clothes on the chair and I discover a pair of thick, soft black pants, warm socks, and a cream-coloured, wool jumper. I hug the fluffy jumper to my chest and smile through a smattering of tears. The absence of a vintage dress is what makes this feel real.

A framed, full-length mirror leans against one of the walls and I hesitantly take myself in. I'm surprised to find I don't look all that different. My brown hair has dried in soft, messy waves where I slept on it after my shower and I shake it out to try and make it a bit more presentable. It's grown since I last saw it this way and now hangs just below my shoulders. I'm not quite as curvy, which I had expected, but the cut of Ciara's clothes certainly makes the most of what there is.

But, despite the similarities, I'm looking at a stranger. The last time I saw this face was the morning I left Rhyton. The green in my eyes might be a little bleaker but I can't be sure. Lochlain has healed my body well and no marks remain, which is incredible in itself, but the reflection does not show the heartbreak I nurse – or the panic and rage that simmers just below the surface. I could walk into Rhyton right now and no one would know the difference between the woman that left and the one that stands here now.

I don't know if that makes me happy or just incredibly lonely.