“So do I.” He was silent for a long moment. “We aren’t supposed to name ourselves. That’s the privilege of our rider, if we’re fortunate enough to have one. If we’re Called.”
“Called?” she said, and then cursed herself. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about this, Aodhan.”
“I do.” He turned over, facing her again, though she couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness. “You need to know. Especially since Ferghal is a knight, with Eislyn his bonded steed. She was Budding Full Two, when I knew her. Born in early spring, under the full moon. Alicorns born under full moons are meant to be particularly blessed by the goddesses, as Two was fond of reminding us all. She was always certain that she would be Called.”
He paused, as though waiting to see if Cathy would say anything. She didn’t. She lay there, listening to the ragged edge of his breathing, and the soft fall of petals.
“It’s a ritual,” Aodhan said at last. “A very old ritual. It’s performed by would-be knights as part of their trials. If it works, it summons the knight’s fated steed. Not always an alicorn, but one of my kind more often than not. We can’t resist it. We’re not supposed to want to resist it. It’s meant to be a great honor, the fulfillment of our destiny. Most of the colts and fillies in my herd dreamed of someday being Called.”
“Not you, though.”
“No. Not me.” His voice hardened. “We’re told it’s a glorious union. That there’s nothing better than to be bound to another soul, that it is a joy and an honor to serve. But I saw nothing wonderful about total submission. I didn’t want to be leashed to some warrior, a weapon in someone else’s hands. I refused to be bound by my biology.”
Cathy’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness. He had his arm outside the covers, hand resting on the pillow between them. The magical bond around his wrist gave just enough light for her to see his face, though not in any detail.
“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been, wanting something different to everyone else,” she said, hurting for him. “How did you break free?”
“Motley.” His voice softened, just a little. “I don’t know how or why he found me, that first time. I certainly don’t know why he came back, given that I was just a barely fledged ball of fury and frustration, already chafing under the weight of expectation. But he did.”
I brought him a book. Cathy remembered Motley’s guileless, unguarded voice; his oddly ageless eyes. He likes books.
She smiled, understanding at last. “He gave you a book about magic.”
To her surprise, he laughed, shaking his head. “No, actually. A book from your world. My Side of the Mountain. Have you read it?”
“A long time ago.” She remembered the old, tattered paperback, carefully shelved in the heart of his library. Her own copy was somewhere in Kevin’s bedroom, handed down with the rest of her treasured collection. “That’s the one about the boy who runs away and lives by himself in the wilderness, right? Where he ends up making a home in a hollow tree?”
“That’s the one.” He let out another soft, amused breath. “Goddesses only know why Motley picked that book to give me, but I drew considerable inspiration from it. At least, I did once I learned how to read, which wasn’t straightforward for someone in my position. I ended up doing a lot of pretend grazing outside classroom windows, doing my best to follow along as tutors attempted to educate bored high sidhe youths.”
She pictured seelie children staring out the window with vacant, resentful expressions; a familiar sight for any teacher, and a depressing one. “At least someone was listening.”
“Mm. I think a couple of them knew I was there, and were grateful to have a receptive audience for a change. They couldn’t teach me directly, since seelie high sidhe take a very dim view of lesser fae getting above their station, but there were rather more books accidentally left on windowsills than one might expect. Though turning the pages was something of a challenge, back then.”
She took his hand, raising it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles, then his fingertips, lingering over each one with new appreciation. “When did you learn to shapeshift?”
“Not for a long time. Once I’d mastered reading, I turned my efforts to mastering magic. It took a lot of study to figure out how to adapt standard transformation spells.” He let out a wry breath. “They were never intended to be cast without hands. I had to work my way up from the fundamental theories. It was the first ritual I ever designed. I finally became a person.”
“You always were a person.”
“To you.” He traced the curve of her lips with a fingertip, feather light. “Not to everyone. But I worked, and studied, and grew stronger. Strong enough to break away from my herd, and make my own place in the world.”
“Aodhan of the Oak,” she murmured, thinking of that unmistakable proof of his power. “Master mage.”
“I made myself what I am.” He pulled his hand away, fist clenching. “My freedom was hard won, and I will not surrender it. Not to anyone. Not ever.”
She thought of the look on his face when Ferghal had called for a bridle. How Aodhan had tensed underneath her when she’d straddled him. The horse books in his library, shelved with horror.
Hesitantly, she reached out to him. He twitched when her hand found his shoulder, but didn’t pull away. She traced the long, hard lines of his arms and torso; the body he’d made for himself, in defiance of fate.
“I’m glad you escaped.” She hugged him, hard, needing to reassure herself that he really had. “No one should ever take your choices away from you. No one.”
Slowly, his arms folded around her, holding her tight. He was solid and real and there, against all odds, by his own strength and will.
Her stomach lurched as a thought struck her. She pulled back a little, trying to make out his face. “Could you still be Called? Even now, in this form?”
“No,” he said with utter certainty. He hesitated, then added, “I designed a counter-ritual of my own. A warding spell, to refuse the Call if it ever came. To sever that connection forever.”
She gripped his shoulders, some small irrational part of herself still convinced he might disappear if she let go. “And it works?”
The light from their bond edged Aodhan’s features with gold. She saw him smile, though his eyes were still hidden in shadow.
He kissed her forehead, soft as falling petals. “I’m here, aren’t I?”