The Sun Sídhe

24 - The Trouble with Geasa

Dead bodies had a way of stealing one's focus.

After Aeden sat us down and told my brother and I how fabulously things had gone while we slept, there was a long silence. He'd moved us a ways down the hill, but Shayne's corpse was visible behind him. Ronan chose to stare anywhere else, looking vaguely nauseous. My eyes strayed to it.

His throat had been slit perfectly, if such a brutal wound could be called perfect. There was no jaggedness to the cut. With his head angled as it was, it appeared as thin and harmless as a scratch along the length of his neck. A scratch that had spilled enough blood to soak the entirety of his front. It formed a pool that still trickled outwards, staining the grass, clotting in his fine hair. The harsh moonlight coloured it black, as if he'd bled ink.

I had already gathered it wasn't Aeden's doing. He fought with teeth and claws, while Shayne's death had been brought about by a blade. Even so, hearing that Morrigan—sweet, delicate Morrigan—had killed the man came as a shock. Perhaps it shouldn't have. She was still a sídhe, an old one. Death was something she lived and breathed.

The woman in question had her feet tucked beneath her, hugging her chest. Her braided hair was mussed and her eyes were wet, but she did not flinch or turn away under my scrutiny. Despite it all, of course, she bore her usual elegance. There wasn't a speck of blood on her.

Funnily enough, Aeden was the most withdrawn of us all. He'd relayed everything plainly, his tone flat and almost disinterested. His usual fidgeting had ceased, save for one hand with which he restlessly yanked at the grass. A small mound of torn blades rested by his knee. I'd often wished for him to stop moving so much, but I missed his energy at that moment. Apathy didn't suit him.

It didn't escape me that there were pieces missing from his explanation: namely, how the hell Cael had managed to bring him to the hilltop. Knowing Aeden, I couldn't imagine it had just been because I was in a tight spot. He wasn't fool enough to surrender over something like that.

He also left out what had happened before Morrigan arrived. It wasn't hard to guess Shayne had tried to kidnap him again, but he bore no wounds or burn marks. While grateful for that, it only fed my wariness. What could've happened that he'd feel the need to hide it?

Ronan spoke before I could, his gaze focused on Morri. Most wouldn't be able to notice it, but there was trepidation mixed within his concern. He was surprised, too. "Are you alright, Morrigan?"

"I will be," she said. "Shayne was beyond reason, and all of you were in danger. It... it was the best choice I could make. I don't regret it."

The uncertainty faded from my brother's eyes as he examined her. He shifted closer, resting a comforting hand on her arm. She allowed the gesture. A feeble smile even flickered across her lips, and she leaned slightly into his touch.

Ronan caught my gaze; I lifted my brows, smirking, and he hastily looked away. Eejit.

"That's the spirit, Morri." Aeden's quip fell flat. He continued to abuse the grass, deliberately ignoring the body just beyond his shoulder.

"I'm impressed you managed to get so close. I could hear your jewellery from the bottom of this hill," I muttered.

Morrigan stilled, staring at me, and then laughed. "I have ways to move silently."

"So you make the usual racket on purpose?"

"Oh, no, don't question her sparkles." Setting aside a dead stalk, Aeden cast me a wan grin. "I can only handle so many dark secrets at once."

I grumbled to myself. Weariness tugged at me—the sun was still out of reach, and unease boiled in my gut like a pot left over a fire too long. There was a nick on my own throat I didn't remember receiving. The ghost of pain throbbed in my thigh, though the wound had sealed some time ago. "And Cael really just... left?"