“If you insist.”
I want her to resist, disagree. I want her to be a foil I can focus my anger on but she’s like water. Flowing and giving to every barb I fling. Anger is an exhausting emotion. It’s hard to hold on to without something to focus it on. Old cliches drift through my mind. Count to ten, walk away, and now, for the first time, I think I understand why they work. Anger is an energy drain and it demands a lot. And just like that, it flitters away with nothing to hold it in place, leaving only a bone-deep weariness behind.
“I’m pissed,” I say, but there is no anger left behind the observation.
Moira’s face is incredibly expressive. I don’t think I ever noticed this before, but she could be an Academy Award winner if she was an actress. She doesn’t have to speak; her face says it all. Understanding and sadness are so clear there’s no mistaking it.
“I know. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
“You know?” I bark. “How do you know? How long have you been watching? Waiting in the shadows. It would be nice if one of you, any of you, would freaking help!”
Moira wets her lips, and her eyes are the most piercing green, driving into my soul.
“I agree.”
Again, her words stop me. What do I say to that? I drop my hands and unclench my fists. There’s nothing left to do but return to the village and try to make up with Duncan.
“I have to go. Duncan and I, we, uh, yeah,” I stop, not wanting to explain myself or discuss our fight. “I need to get back.”
“Walk with me,” she says, holding out her hand. “Please.”
As I look at her hand there is an echo inside my head and my vision blurs. It looks like a fun house mirror; thousands of hands being offered to me by reflections. In some reflections I take it, in others I don’t, in another I slap it away, and in yet another I attack her.
My breath catches and I blink. The weird vision disappears and there is only Moira with her extended arm and offered hand, patiently waiting for my response. Glancing over my shoulder the path back to the clan is undiscernible because of the thick mist that lies across the ground.
Back there rests my heart, safe with Duncan who has it, even now. We’ve had our first fight, but we can get past it. Some time away, though, might be the right thing. I don’t know if he’s had time to cool off yet and I could use some more myself.
“I miss coffee,” I murmur.
“That could be arranged,” Moira says. “But it’s a choice, if you know what I mean.”
“Everything is,” I sigh.
Moira laughs and I make my decision. I take her hand, which is cool in mine, almost cold. She wraps her fingers around my hand, and I suppress a shiver it’s so cold.
“Why did you come back?” she asks as we walk.
She leads us to a cliff from which I can look out across what feels like all of Scotland. The storm is at our back and in front of us are rolling green fields and wispy clouds. I gaze from the highlands down to the lowlands where the fields are cultivated in neat squares, the craggy mountains and rough terrain giving way to rolling hills. In the far distance the purple blue of the horizon calls with an invitation to explore. To be free.
“I love him,” I say.
The words are simple. Three syllables, but those small sound waves carry so much more with them than they have any right to. A statement so profound, so deep, it should be more complex. They resonate in my chest, make my heart thrum, and my spirits lift. It’s a truth, stated so easily, yet so complicated.
“Love,” Moira says with a musing tone. “That’s nice.”
“Nice?” I scoff. “That’s all you have to say for the emotion that inspires the poets and causes so much pain and strife in the world? Nice? Seems a right weak choice of words.”
“Aye,” Moira laughs. “It does, doesn’t it? Would you prefer something more like…” She trails off and taps a finger on her lips. “Outstanding? No, not big enough, I think. How about stupendous!”
I can’t help but laugh. Her smile is infectious and her silliness cuts through the remnants of anger and frustration left from my fight with Duncan and forces me to realize she didn’t betray me. I shouldn’t equate all Unseelie together, because that’s not fair to her.
“Yes. That’s much better.”
“I am happy for you,” she says. “I hope it works.”
“You and Dugald,” I grouse. “Harbingers of constant sorrow.”
She chuckles and shrugs. “Apt.”