Ewan couldn’t remember the last time that he had slept. He had tried, of course, but he hadn’t been able to at all. Every time he climbed into bed, he was reminded of how empty it was. Of how cold it was. Of how it had felt when she was there. It had been close to a month since Nyar had told him about Avanda’s disappearance, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about where she was since then. He refused to accept that she was dead. She couldn’t be. And there was no way that she had betrayed them. So he had spent every waking hour thinking about her, obsessing over where she could have vanished to.
He sat up on the edge on his bed and sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had been a month, and no one could find her. Her father had sent search parties to every corner of the galaxy, but they had returned with nothing. He had volunteered to lead searches himself, but King Alistairion had always refused him, giving him reasons why he needed him to stay.
“The guard is weak enough, I can’t send one of my best away when home needs to be defended.”
“You’re a brilliant strategist. I need you here.”
“Your duties here are too important. I need you here.”
It had been today that had broken Ewan when he begged again to search for the King’s daughter, tears barely restrained. The king had turned his own eyes to the boy, sad and deep with regret.
“Your brothers have lost so much already. I can’t ask your family to sacrifice anymore.”
Ewan stood, shaking his head and walking to the window, staring at the stars. Who knew how many of them lay between him and his love? A memory stirred of a song that she had sung softly to herself as she went about the house and her day, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The words seemed to fall from his lips on their own, without his consent.
“Come over the hills, My bonnie Irish lass; Come over the hills to your darling; you choose the road, love, and I’ll make the vow; and I’ll be your true love forever.”
Avanda shivered in the corner of the cell that she had been left in. Her head ached and her mind had begun to spiral. It was cold, and empty, and silent. She couldn’t stop her mind, as badly as she wanted to. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Nyar telling her to run. Every time she breathed, she remembered how hard she and Thane had laughed the last time they had been together. Every time she stretched, she could see Jalev climbing a tree, or Carina sprawled in the grass watching the clouds, and it hurt.
But even worse was when she tried to sleep.
Because when she slept, she dreamed.
And every time she dreamed, it was of him.
Dreaming was worse than being awake. Awake, she was here; cold and miserable. Hungry and scared. But dreaming was worse.They were vivid and realistic and painful. She could feel his arms around her. She could smell the forest on his skin when he came home from hunting. She could see the stars in his eyes, she could--
“No,” She sobbed, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eyes until she saw stars. She couldn’t do this again. She wasn’t strong enough now. Her teeth chattered and she tried desperately to distract herself.
“Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows; fair is the lily of the valley, clear is the water that flows from the Boyne; but my love is fairer than any.”
Ewan shouldered his quiver with a sigh. Hunting was getting harder, now that the seasons were changing. The larger game were beginning to migrate now, and the smaller game wasn’t going to feed the family for long. Fishing was fine, but as the water in the river got colder, even they were harder to catch. He scowled as his boots crunched the brittle brown leaves underfoot, the frost stiffening them even more. He froze with his foot resting on the trunk of the tree that stretched across the river. His shoulders sank as he recalled the night that he had led Avanda here.
He could still see the stars in her eyes and the moonlight as it danced across her skin. He could feel her hair tangled around his finger. He could still taste her smile.
‘Twas down by Kilarney’s green woods that we strayed; When the moon and the stars they were shining; The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair; And she swore she’d be my love forever.
The songs had become everything to her now. They always had been though, hadn’t they? When she was a child and they had stolen her memories, she had clung to her lullaby. The words had been the only ones in her native tounge that she had known. Their meaning had been lost, maybe. But the familiarity hadn’t been. They had been her anchor then, just as they were now. At least now there were more songs. There were more words now to rattle around her mind, loosening memories and soothing and healing the wounds that her captors had inflicted.
“Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows; fair is the lily of the valley, clear is the water, that flows from th Boyne, but my love is fairer than any.”
Ewan had never felt loss like this. He had been a boy when his father died, but he could still remember it in vivid detail. The passing of his mother had come a year later, leaving him and his twin to care for an infant and a toddler. He had grieved, and it had taken years for him to accept that his parents were gone. There had been a time that he had even resented them for it. But this wasn’t the same at all. It was worse, it was stronger.
It filled every waking hour with a terrible sting, reminding him that he should have been with her. It kept him awake, whispering that he had failed her, just as his father had.
Besides, every day without her was just a bitter reminder that she was gone. He had thought that he missed her when she left for the mission. He had thought that his heart had ached when he heard her voice on the radio, filled with static as she gave a report across the galaxy. But that ache was nothing compared to this pain. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever see her again. He prayed every night that the next morning would bring some scrap of news, some hint that perhaps there was a new place to search for her. But each sunrise brought nothing more than bitter disappointment.
He had never felt a loss like this. And as time went by, he was beginning to think that it was all he would ever feel, the rest of his life.
It’s not for the parting that my sister pains;It’s not for the grief of my mother; ‘Tis all for the loos of my Bonnie Irish lass; That my heart is breaking forever.
