Being near him chased away the hollowness inside me for just a little while.
“I know he can fend for himself, but I still… need to,” I heard myself rasp, keeping my eyes averted.
I was so proud of Ash. Proud of how he was refusing to let my mother win, even though I worried constantly that killing her guards was affecting him mentally. I knew the pain of killing. I knew the torment of closing your eyes and seeing all the terrified, pleading faces staring up at you before their eyes went dim and their blood sprayed over your clothes.
Although it was different for Ash. He wasn’t killing innocent Folk—Folk who had done nothing but slight my mother, sometimes for the most frivolous things. He was killing out of necessity. He was refusing to back down.
“One day he will move on, even if he doesn’t understand why he cannot right now.” The kelpie’s voice made me stiffen, pain tightening my chest at the thought of it. “One day he’ll find someone else. Are you going to stop it? Are you going to keep him alone forever, even though he’ll never remember you?”
My eyes burned, guilt flooding my stomach like acid. I didn’t know the answer to that. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to leave Ash alone. If I’d be able to sit and watch him find someone and fall in love with them. Watch him give someone else his soft smiles and sweet kisses. His body.
Everything inside me rebelled at the thought. He was mine. He wasmine. My Ash. My oak king. And I was his. I would always be his. No one else’s.
But it wasn’t fair of me to expect the same from him.
He still wore my favour around his throat, even though he couldn’t have known why he had it or what it was. But the sight of it made weak, pathetic hope unfurl in my belly every time I spotted it under his shirt.
Did a part of him remember me? Somewhere buried deep? He’d said he did when he was looking for Ogma. He’d said he remembered me and missed me. He couldn’t have said those words if they hadn’t been true.
But that part of him was locked away now. Gone forever. He’d never visit Ogma again. He’d never again take those mushrooms that had allowed him to even faintly recognise me for a few precious minutes.
I needed to get away from the kelpie. I’d already said too much, even though it could never have helped. He was still watching me silently, and he didn’t react when I waded through the water to the bank and shifted into the crow. I flew away without answering his question.