"Guin and I have never been friends,"Lochlann admitted. "We're about as opposite of friends as it can be."
He didn't mean lovers. He had Guin had always been something of mortal enemies. Except, for a long while, Lochlann thought Guin was immortal.
Emily's fingers were in his hair and Lochlann let out a surprised noise of pleasure. He loved that sensation. it was one of his favorites. He was a little ashamed to have been so openly vocal about his happiness.
Lochlann didn't understand that she meant atmospheric pressure. He thought she meant emotional pressure, like stress.
"I don't think so," he said.
Lochlann was an idiot because he was definitely sensitive to both kinds of pressure.
He was curious about her mom. He asked, "Is she were you got your gifts from?"
When she asked about the pendent, the horse moved forward, darting across the beach quickly. Lochlann squeezed his arms tight around Emily but they were in no danger of falling because--
—-they were in Lochlann's kitchen, in one of the old houses, not the one in the distant memory she'd seen.
Lochlann was younger even than he had been in that last memory. He was maybe fifteen, although of course, Lochlann's family didn't keep track of things like age or birthday. Lochlann was sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes were down cast.
There were two men in the kitchen with him. one was Lawrence, his brother, from the previous flashback. Lawrence was leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and scowling. The other was his father and Lorcan was seated at the table. He resembled Lochlann in many ways, although his nose was more rounded at the end and his face was wider and set into a grim determination. All of the Cabyll-Ushtey boys were remarkably handsome variations of their age. Some of this came from his father.
The kitchen they were in was cramped and small. Two of the three lightbulbs were burned out above them. The one that remained cast a yellowish pall over the three of them.
Lorcan, Lochlann's father, slid the amulet across the table.
He was furious with his son.
"Do you understand the cost?" Lorcan asked him. Though he wasn't yelling, something in his voice seemed worse. "Do you understand the consequences if you fail again?"
Lochlann shook his head. Whether it was yes or no was uncertain.
Lochlann on the horse was frozen with indecision about this memory. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but no one died, there was no bloodshed, and no real violence. It was one of the most remarkably intimate moments of his entire life, though. He'd never shared this with anyone. Not even Guin, who pried out most of his secrets, knew this about him.
There would be context that Emily didn't understand. She didn't know about his past girlfriends. She didn't know about his failures or how he'd put his family at risk. She didn't know that he was fae or that he was a water horse or that Lochlann's family tried so, so hard to be human.
She didn't know that the consequences they were talking about was this: If Lochlann put his family at risk, they would kill him to protect themselves. They loved him so much they were willing to sacrifice him to keep him safe.
They'd sacrificed something else, too.
"What was the cost?" Dream Lochlann asked. He looked at the amulet instead of his father's eyes. His face was impassive. His right hand lifted from his side and he placed it on the table next to it.
"The cost was your mother's to bare," Lorcan said.
Lochlann was alarmed. "She's-?"
"Alive, yes," Lorcan said. Lochlann looked relieved but Lorcan shook his head. Lorcan sighed and, for a moment, showed a brief glimpse of distress. He lifted his hand and ran it through his dark hair in much the same manner that Lochlann did himself.
"What's her name?" Lorcan asked her.
Lochlann looked at him as if that was a ridiculous question.
He opened his mouth but...
Nothing came out.
He frowned.
He wrinkled his nose. He tried again, but everytime he tried to make the words come, they disappeared. Even now, Lochlann knew what it felt like. It was trying to remember a word that was on the tip of your tongue, but hte more you thought about it, the further away it became.
"Mother," Lochlann said. He looked at his father.
"Bean Cheile," his father said, but it wasn't a name that he gave his son. It was a phrase that meant wife.
"Her name," Lochlann repeated.
Lochlann's mother traded her name for that amulet.
"Do you understand what she's given up?" Lorcan asked his son. "Do you understand that a name isn't just sounds we use? It isn't just a title? Your mother, my wife. Those are roles. She gave up her identity so you, you, Lochlann, can fulfill your role in this family. There will not be another chance. Do you understand?"
Dream Lochlann had been struck mute. Real Lochlann wasn't far behind. He rested his forhead on Emily's shoulder and took a deep breath.
Dream Lochlann looked at the amulet and then, a woman's long hands came from behind Lochlann and picked up the necklace and slid it over her son's neck. Her back was to them.
"Don't lose it," she warned.
Her back was to the real Lochlann and Emily. The dream faded before she turned around. Truthfully, Lochlann couldn't remember what she looked like when she wasn't in front of him.
Now, Lochlann and Emily were alone in a field. It was night and the stars were brilliant. They were clearly far enough outside town to make the view of them fantastic without streetlights or smog to obstruct them.
"I've never told anyone about that," Lochlann said. His voice was quiet. He remembered Emily couldn't taste his feelings and he wondered if that must make her feel like she lost something, so he said, "It makes me feel a little scared and a little sad."
He didn't quite get off the horse yet. Sitting behind Emily was reassuring. He felt close, but also protected, because he was behind her she couldn't see his face and he didn't have to work so hard at figuring out what his face was doing.
"Can I show you...something else?" he asked.
He didn't mean lovers. He had Guin had always been something of mortal enemies. Except, for a long while, Lochlann thought Guin was immortal.
Emily's fingers were in his hair and Lochlann let out a surprised noise of pleasure. He loved that sensation. it was one of his favorites. He was a little ashamed to have been so openly vocal about his happiness.
Lochlann didn't understand that she meant atmospheric pressure. He thought she meant emotional pressure, like stress.
"I don't think so," he said.
Lochlann was an idiot because he was definitely sensitive to both kinds of pressure.
He was curious about her mom. He asked, "Is she were you got your gifts from?"
When she asked about the pendent, the horse moved forward, darting across the beach quickly. Lochlann squeezed his arms tight around Emily but they were in no danger of falling because--
—-they were in Lochlann's kitchen, in one of the old houses, not the one in the distant memory she'd seen.
Lochlann was younger even than he had been in that last memory. He was maybe fifteen, although of course, Lochlann's family didn't keep track of things like age or birthday. Lochlann was sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes were down cast.
There were two men in the kitchen with him. one was Lawrence, his brother, from the previous flashback. Lawrence was leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed and scowling. The other was his father and Lorcan was seated at the table. He resembled Lochlann in many ways, although his nose was more rounded at the end and his face was wider and set into a grim determination. All of the Cabyll-Ushtey boys were remarkably handsome variations of their age. Some of this came from his father.
The kitchen they were in was cramped and small. Two of the three lightbulbs were burned out above them. The one that remained cast a yellowish pall over the three of them.
Lorcan, Lochlann's father, slid the amulet across the table.
He was furious with his son.
"Do you understand the cost?" Lorcan asked him. Though he wasn't yelling, something in his voice seemed worse. "Do you understand the consequences if you fail again?"
Lochlann shook his head. Whether it was yes or no was uncertain.
Lochlann on the horse was frozen with indecision about this memory. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but no one died, there was no bloodshed, and no real violence. It was one of the most remarkably intimate moments of his entire life, though. He'd never shared this with anyone. Not even Guin, who pried out most of his secrets, knew this about him.
There would be context that Emily didn't understand. She didn't know about his past girlfriends. She didn't know about his failures or how he'd put his family at risk. She didn't know that he was fae or that he was a water horse or that Lochlann's family tried so, so hard to be human.
She didn't know that the consequences they were talking about was this: If Lochlann put his family at risk, they would kill him to protect themselves. They loved him so much they were willing to sacrifice him to keep him safe.
They'd sacrificed something else, too.
"What was the cost?" Dream Lochlann asked. He looked at the amulet instead of his father's eyes. His face was impassive. His right hand lifted from his side and he placed it on the table next to it.
"The cost was your mother's to bare," Lorcan said.
Lochlann was alarmed. "She's-?"
"Alive, yes," Lorcan said. Lochlann looked relieved but Lorcan shook his head. Lorcan sighed and, for a moment, showed a brief glimpse of distress. He lifted his hand and ran it through his dark hair in much the same manner that Lochlann did himself.
"What's her name?" Lorcan asked her.
Lochlann looked at him as if that was a ridiculous question.
He opened his mouth but...
Nothing came out.
He frowned.
He wrinkled his nose. He tried again, but everytime he tried to make the words come, they disappeared. Even now, Lochlann knew what it felt like. It was trying to remember a word that was on the tip of your tongue, but hte more you thought about it, the further away it became.
"Mother," Lochlann said. He looked at his father.
"Bean Cheile," his father said, but it wasn't a name that he gave his son. It was a phrase that meant wife.
"Her name," Lochlann repeated.
Lochlann's mother traded her name for that amulet.
"Do you understand what she's given up?" Lorcan asked his son. "Do you understand that a name isn't just sounds we use? It isn't just a title? Your mother, my wife. Those are roles. She gave up her identity so you, you, Lochlann, can fulfill your role in this family. There will not be another chance. Do you understand?"
Dream Lochlann had been struck mute. Real Lochlann wasn't far behind. He rested his forhead on Emily's shoulder and took a deep breath.
Dream Lochlann looked at the amulet and then, a woman's long hands came from behind Lochlann and picked up the necklace and slid it over her son's neck. Her back was to them.
"Don't lose it," she warned.
Her back was to the real Lochlann and Emily. The dream faded before she turned around. Truthfully, Lochlann couldn't remember what she looked like when she wasn't in front of him.
Now, Lochlann and Emily were alone in a field. It was night and the stars were brilliant. They were clearly far enough outside town to make the view of them fantastic without streetlights or smog to obstruct them.
"I've never told anyone about that," Lochlann said. His voice was quiet. He remembered Emily couldn't taste his feelings and he wondered if that must make her feel like she lost something, so he said, "It makes me feel a little scared and a little sad."
He didn't quite get off the horse yet. Sitting behind Emily was reassuring. He felt close, but also protected, because he was behind her she couldn't see his face and he didn't have to work so hard at figuring out what his face was doing.
"Can I show you...something else?" he asked.
