Page 13 of Forbidden Obsession
I tighten my arms around him and pull us as close as two people can be. “I know.”
But I don’t.
ChapterSix
Jindal
The breezein my hair is light and cool, even as my heart is heavy as stone. Seated astride sweet Magna—Rahz’s favorite horse, who he insisted I borrow for the afternoon—I’m closing in on my destination.
Usually, I’d fly, but my back muscles are sore, and Rahz thought a nice ride would be easier on me. Besides, it’s always lovely to have Magna for company.
I don’t make this trip often. There’s not much I like about Clodhill. The neighboring village is bigger than Jodpirn and, as such, has more choices in shops, foods, and activities. But along with size come all the problems associated with a large population: more petty crime, more waste, and more disagreements over resources.
Plus, Father likes Clodhill, so my contrary nature demands my distaste. But I do come here at least once a year on this day, Mother’s birthday, to say hello and pay my respects.
I can’t see her—viewings are forbidden by the guardians—but I can be near her where she rests in the Temple of Light. Can she sense my presence? Am I a comfort to her as she sleeps? I don’t know the answers, but I can’t help dwelling on the questions as Magna walks us into town.
Some fae, when they wake from dormancy, have memories from their time at rest, and some don’t. One thing I know for sure. If my mother wakes up with memories, my visits will be among them. I want her to know how important she is to me, even though we’ve yet to meet. She will know my devotion never waned as she rested, unlike Father’s.
Magna ambles straight to the stables without any prompting from me. She makes this trip more often than I do. Rahz actually likes Clodhill, and as such, he and Magna take care of any town business for both of us.
But he can’t do this for me.
I leave Magna in the care of a friendly stable hand, a human girl of maybe sixteen or seventeen cycles with long brown hair tied back at her nape. She greets the horse in a familiar fashion and offers a handful of sweet-smelling honeypods, which Magna gobbles down with the gusto of an animal starved, though I can attest she ate a heaping helping of breakfast only a few hours prior.
“Thank you.” I nod to the girl. “Don’t spoil her too much, or she won’t want to leave with me later.”
She grins. “Have no fear, good sir. Rahz has this lady wrapped around his little finger. No doubt she’ll be eager to return to him.”
I stroke Magna’s long neck. “You’re absolutely correct.”
The stable hand clicks her tongue, and the two of them saunter off together.
I stuff my hands into my pockets and set off on the longer route through the edges of town to avoid the bustle of the main roads. More time to think this way, and my mind wanders first and always to Rahz. His schedule is full these days, with everyone vying for the use of his magic for whatever project they’re too lazy to do themselves.
His sorcery is both a blessing and a curse. Wonderful to have such power at his disposal and to have grown up a respected member of the community, one valued for his many contributions. Yet there’s no denying the burden rests heavily on his shoulders.
His big, broad, muscular shoulders.
I giggle. Those are all mine. Others may look, but only I can touch.
Rahz doesn’t seem to mind the villagers’ reliance on him. He likes to work. To help. To till the earth, mend the fences, harvest the vegetables, shingle the roofs, and whatever else they ask of him. “It’s easier for me,” he says, his tone casual. “With my magic, I can accomplish in two hours what would take four men an entire day.” He shrugs this off as unimportant. “Why shouldn’t I help?”
And it’s not like I don’t think he should help, only that I wish he had more time for his own pursuits. Riding Magna, quiet mornings with his mother, evenings reading books, telling stories, and not to be forgotten, fucking me senseless.
But we make sure to find plenty of time for that.
I pass a row of squat cottages, smaller than the one I share with Father and a fair bit shabbier too. These are human neighborhoods on the outskirts of the city where many of the town’s workers live. Little garden plots make up the front yards. Tumbling vines laden with the colorful squash of the late season twist and meander toward the road. The air smells of dusky incense, burned to cover the scent of the wastewater as it drains from the center of town to the wildlands beyond.
Another reason I prefer Jodpirn. In our village, used water is rerouted directly to our fields to be gobbled up by hungry plants. No time to get smelly. No need for heavy incense. But Jodpirn doesn’t have a temple where dormant fae can rest safely, and Clodhill does. So here I am.
My leather shoes are silent on the brown cobbles as I near the city center. Around me, the noise of the hustle and bustle of town rises to a crescendo. Fae folk going about their business, street vendors hawking their wares, the ringing chime of a bell as someone zooms past on a wheeled swift walker.
I let the flurry of activity wash over me in an effort to remain unbothered. But where I’m going, all will be still. All will be silent. In only a few more blocks, my destination will be at hand, and I can escape the din of the streets.
“Flowers, sir?” A young human boy with huge brown eyes thrusts a bouquet at my chest. I have to shuffle sideways so as not to barrel right into him. “Handpicked from the warm southern lands,” he says. “Beautiful, like you. Exotic. Only the best, most fragrant varieties. On sale too.”
I shake my head and make to press on, but he persists, tagging along beside me.
