Wings of my Enemy

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The next morning, after breakfast, I stood near our stable, emptying a bag of oats into the troughs that lined the meadow fence. Morning chores were a part of life in Aisling. Leila usually helped me provide feed and fresh water for the horses while Ethan worked with my father at the barn. I had bundled myself under a thick sweater and wore wool leggings under my work dress. It was a cold morning.

“Oh, this hurts today.” Leila stretched her arms wide and twisted her neck sideways. “The early cold is bothersome.”

I shook the dust off an empty sack and tossed it onto a pile at the back corner of the stable. “Stop complaining,” I told her. “You should have been in the rain yesterday.”

“I was,” she retorted, flashing a glare back at me. “I had to do the work while you were at the council. Father told Ethan to help me, but he spent the day chasing horses.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her blithely, not really meaning my words. I grabbed an empty bucket. “The gathering was important. I couldn’t miss it.”

“What is it like at the temple?” asked Leila. “Is it magical?”

I smiled. Yesterday had felt magical. “It’s special,” I told her. “Sacred. It’s as if all the peace in your dreams were bundled into one place. I love it.” I allowed my words to linger in the air as I caught tiny memories of the peace they brought. All too soon, the day found me again, and I left through the stable door, hustled toward our little well, and filled the bucket with water.

When I arrived back at the stable, Leila had an armful of hay. She was almost to the long row of troughs. “Rhiannon—look!” She dropped the hay and pointed behind me.

Ethan was running from the house, waving his arms and yelling. “Hey. Hey, come here.”

I set down the bucket while Leila brushed past me, calling. “Ethan, what’s wrong?”

My brother was running too fast and knocked Leila over when he tried to stop. Normally, I would have laughed, but his momentum carried them both into me, knocking me into the pile of hay that Leila had dropped.

“Go to the house, quick,” said Ethan, scrambling off us and to his feet. “There’s a messenger.”

I stared at Leila for a moment, forgetting to be upset. We bounced off one another and scrambled toward the house. I arrived there first and shoved open the back door.

“What’s wrong?” I called out, stumbling inside.

Leila and Ethan were close behind. Together, they bumped roughly into me—again.

The messenger stood next to the table in the dining room, drinking from a goblet and nodding to my parents. I had seen him before. His name was Gavin Tully, and although older than Ethan, he was shorter—and thin. He wore the amber tunic of a messenger, and his light red hair lay flat against his head, giving him the look of a large bug.

“Gavin has a message for you,” said Father, grinning between gulps of liquid.

“Is it bad news?” I panted, out of breath from my wild run. I didn’t expect the news to be bad, but wanted instant proof that something exciting was happening.

“No.” Gavin’s voice cracked. “I have a message from Sean Bauer.”

The mention of his name made me smile. “Yes?” I leaned closer to the boy. “What is it?”

Gavin straightened—in an obvious attempt to look taller—while Ethan crowded next to him. “Sean would like your blessing,” he said. “He wants to visit.”