The Sun Sídhe

9 - Pasts Since Buried

Aeden had learned that Maeve wasn't one for silence. She was blunt. She spoke quickly. But she didn't spend hours of travel without saying a word, one hand curled a little too tightly in Aeden's mane as he carried her up the mountain, angry energy burning the air around her in faint, crackling currents.

Well, she usually didn't.

The moon had emerged from the clouds as they made their way up the mountain, lighting up the rocky path enough that even Ronan, with his human eyesight, was able to navigate it. They were only a short walk from Morrigan's home when Maeve swung her legs over Aeden's side and leapt off of him. "That's it," she hissed. "We're far enough, aren't we?"

Aeden twitched. They were very close to what safety Morri could offer, as a matter of fact, but Maeve didn't look like she'd be amenable to avoiding the confrontation any longer. Even though it was still night, her amber eyes were alight from the force of her rage. Aeden wondered if she knew she was doing that.

Maeve interrupted his thoughts by grabbing his ear. "Shift back and explain. What the hell was that?"

He tensed and slipped back into the form of a human, knocking her hand away with a sharp motion. "Keep your hands off of me," he growled, not bothering to hide his own anger in that instant.

"Oh? Like you did for Ronan?"

"I didn't touch him."

"You would have!" she yelled, prodding his chest. For a woman with such a soft face, freckled and round, she could look ferocious.

Aeden thought about it. Amidst the haze of anger, he had struck out. "I wouldn't have killed him," he said.

"You weren't in an exactly gentle mood, Aeden. With all your strength, would a human survive your punch?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Smoothing his expression, he cast his gaze out to the mountainous landscape beneath them. The forested hills stretched out for miles in all directions, a shadowy, dark mass even to one with his eyes. The Rene was reduced to a glittering ribbon of silver that cut the landscape, winding towards the distant sea. Where had Cael gone, in all that mess? Where was Shayne?

"Don't place all the blame on him," Ronan said, breaking the taut silence. His eyes were calm as he watched Aeden. "Consciously or not, I attacked him first."

"Perhaps." Maeve stabbed her walking stick into the ground beside Aeden's feet, bringing her face mere inches from his own. "But you should've known better. You lost your head, Aeden. You'd best have a damn good reason as to why."

Aeden stared down into her eyes, a dull emptiness settling in his chest. He grinned, drumming his fingers against his leg. "There were all sorts of things to be upset about in that situation. A sídhe controlling humans—using iron—against another sídhe. I'm not partial to being hunted down like that, Mae."

"Aye, you're a wild thing. But I know anger," she snarled. "There's more. You haven't told us everything."

Reluctance curdled in his chest, but Aeden knew it was hopeless. He needed Maeve's help; this wasn't something he could handle on his own. There was a gash along his side frome one of those men's spears. Pain still sparked along it, sharpened by the ghost of iron's touch. Exhaustion lingered deep in his body from dozens of sleepless nights. His smile slipped. "It's not much of a secret."

Her amber eyes burned into him. "Then tell us."

Aeden lifted a hand to placate her. He looked westwards, deeper into the heart of Ríenne. "To put it simply, I'm angry. It distracted me."

"To put it simply—Aeden, don't you start that. I need more and you know it."

"You want the truth?" He looked down at her and laughed, feeling none of it. Power stirred in his chest, an icy flood that scratched and ripped at his insides. "I watched him kill my family on a whim. They spent the final moments of their lives in agony. Do not take what I said lightly: I am angry, Maeve, in every sense of the word." Down to the very roots of his soul, the fury lingered. It had every day. And it would remain forever, a grudge that was ingrained into his being. Shayne's crime was unforgivable. Not even his death would cleanse it.