CHAPTER NINE

 

DESPITE MY INSISTENCE that Clay seek out the answers he needed from Fiona, he was reluctant to admit that he actually wanted them. We lay in silence for another few moments before the cold and hunger drove me to get back up to add more wood to the fire and start something for dinner.

“What a day, huh?” I murmured as I moved around the tiny counter we called our kitchen.

“That’s an understatement,” Clay said, his voice almost flat and emotionless, as he too climbed out of bed. He joined me in our makeshift kitchen and helped me by cutting the last of the venison we had into strips.

We worked silently side by side, each of us lost to our own thoughts. I was certain that the revelation of Clay’s parentage had shoved the danger of the possible return of the shadow out of his mind. I wanted to raise my worries about the creature with him so we could discuss what we were going to do about it, but I couldn’t be sure how it would go.

In his distressed state, he could relish the opportunity to be distracted from his internal worries. However, it was just as likely that the reminder could shatter the control he’d managed to regain in the time since Fiona’s departure.

Instead of worrying about the danger and adding to Clay’s stress, I tried to focus on the task in front of me. Everything else could wait until Clay was ready to talk. Once I had everything prepared, I set the frying pan onto the holder on top of the fire and set a pot of vegetables beside it.

“You really think I should talk to her?” Clay asked quietly as he added the meat to the hot pan before washing his hands and sitting at my side near the fire.

“It’s your choice,” I said. “If it’s worth anything to you, I really do believe her.”

“Why?”

“There are just too many things that make more sense if it’s true.”

“You honestly believe that I could be part . . . fae?” The word stuck on his tongue before spilling out in a disgusted tone.

I recognized I had to tread carefully; he needed to arrive at the conclusions on his own. “I don’t think she has a reason to lie.”

“I just don’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t. I mean the very idea of Dad being with a fae is ridiculous. He wouldn't be that irresponsible. That stupid! He’s always warned me how dangerous they can be.”

A chuckle rose to my lips, but I did everything I could to stifle it. I could envisage exactly how Clay would react at that moment if I laughed at his absurd logic. Unable to completely resist the urge to tease him though, I added, “Like you knew how dangerous phoenixes are?”

“That’s different,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a huffed breath.

“How?”

He scrubbed his face with his hands and issued a soft growl. “It just is.”

Linking my fingers with his, I drew our joined hands into my lap. “If it’s true, it doesn’t change who you are.”

“No, just what I am,” he muttered. “It makes me a freak.”

He must have felt my hand flinch in response to his statement because his eyes snapped to mine and he whispered a quick apology. I couldn’t deny that his use of that particular word hurt, but I also understood his anger. And his confusion.

I squeezed his hand before moving my fingers to caress his cheek and drawing his face around to meet his gaze. “You know it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He squeezed his eyes closed and pain was etched on his features. I wasn’t sure whether my words had hurt him somehow or if the fact that I’d felt the need to express them had caused his reaction.

Sensing that we weren’t going to get anywhere with our debate about whether or not Fiona was his mother, I decided to change tack. “Regardless of the truth in her words, I do believe she genuinely needs our help.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust Aiden enough to know he wouldn’t lie to me about that.” I hoped that Clay wouldn’t react badly to the statement, but I didn’t know how else to say it. “And before you came back in, Fiona told me that the Rain had kidnapped her daughter. Mackenzie’s a young fae, and she’s at the mercy of some very ruthless people. I can’t even imagine how scared she must be.” Scared, and who knew what else.

He hung his head as he considered my words. He probably knew as well as I did—or perhaps even better than I could ever truly imagine—how terrifying the Rain could be. I’d been on the receiving end of their hunts when they’d wanted me dead, but the possibility of capture and torture at their hand was unthinkable. A warm flush ran over my skin as I imagined what might have happened to me under different circumstances.

What might still happen, if I’m caught.

His fingers tightened in response to the warmth. “They won’t ever hurt you,” he said, clearly reading my stress and understanding the reason behind it. “I won’t let them.”

“I’m not really worried about me.”

A frown crossed his features, but he didn’t say anything more.

The rest of the night passed in a similar fashion, with Clay having moments where he needed to talk but he always fell back into his silent, contemplative mood. I longed to go back to that morning—before the arrival of the fae—when it was just us and the only thing we had to worry about was training, the source of our next meal, and being vigilant in watching for signs that the Rain had caught up with us.

When we finally went to bed, Clay wrapped his body tightly around mine and whispered his apologies to me repeatedly for his bad mood and rash words before telling me that I was the only thing that was keeping him sane.

“Maybe it would help if you talked about it,” I said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “It’s hard to even think about it without ending up in a mess of confusing knots.”

“I understand. I felt like that when—”

“Will you tell me more about the fae?” he asked to change the subject away from the moment we both discovered I was something more. I figured he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d fallen for me, which lent credence to the theory that even the most dedicated Elite Rain soldiers could fall for nonhumans. His father included.

Willing to do anything to ease his mind, I started a story about the fae society: about the library and classrooms, about the fledglings and rankings, and about the way they were effectively a large extended family. I only hoped his desire to hear more of that part of my past meant he was finally beginning to open up to the possibility of finding out more answers. I knew from my own experience that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he learned the truth—the full truth—even if he couldn’t admit that to himself yet.

By the time I finished my story, Clay was fast asleep, and the past was once again on my mind, as firm and solid as Clay beside me. I still couldn’t regret my time with the fae, it had helped to shape who I was, but I wondered—not for the first time—how different my life would have been if Clay’s family hadn’t found him in Charlotte and made him think that he needed to leave.

Fiona wouldn’t know me, and she certainly wouldn’t have known to search for me to find Clay. We wouldn’t be in our current predicament, and Clay would never have had the opportunity to learn the truth about himself or his family. I probably understood more than most that knowing the truth—however unpleasant it might be to learn—was better than living a lie. In the long run at least. After all, Dad had kept the secret of my heritage, the truth about what I was, hidden for so long it had almost turned deadly before I learned the truth.

I lay staring at the ceiling while Clay slept quietly beside me. His body jolted as if he was waking, and I shifted closer to him to provide some comfort. Instead of opening his eyes though, his face began to twitch and tick as a dream, or possibly a nightmare, overtook his peace. I was helpless to do anything for him while his mind held him hostage.

Is this how he feels when he has to watch as my dreams turn to fire and smoke?

The information Fiona had dropped on us without warning weighed heavily on his shoulders. Watching his anxiety play out on his face as he slept, I worried that his personal demons might become too much for him.

He had apparently accepted her words, but they were an obvious burden.

He reached for me in the darkness, and his hand came to rest across my body. The weight of his arm, together with the rhythm of his soft breaths, calmed me and reminded me that despite it all, we had each other now.

That was the most important thing.

We’d face whatever came our way together. I’d help him battle his demons like he’d helped me face mine in the past.

After an hour of sleeplessness, a quiet tapping at one of our windows called my attention. I twisted as best as I could toward the sound without disturbing Clay and saw the bright blue of Aiden’s eyes peering through the glass. He indicated that he wanted me to go out to see him. It meant leaving the warmth of Clay’s embrace to venture into the cold night air. All I could think was that Aiden might have had some of the answers to the questions Clay was too uncertain to ask. If that was the case, it was definitely worth my discomfort.