After tucking his swords into the footwell next to him, Mama closed the door, circled around the roaster’s shiny fenders and grill, and slid into her own seat behind the wheel. She smiled at him before she turned on the engine. “Let’s get you home.”
“You have no idea how much I want my own bed.” Fieran slouched in the seat so that he could lean his head against the seat. “Or how thankful I am to be wearing clothes again.”
It had been a struggle, shimmying into trousers for the first time since his crash. But worth it to be out of that hospital gown.
“Now you sound like your dacha.” Mama laughed as she tied a scarf over her hair.
“I can’t imagine Dacha being happy being stuck in a hospital gown either.” Fieran let his eyes fall closed. He’d only been up for a few hours, and already he wanted a nap.
Once her hair was protected from the wind, Mama glanced both ways, put the roadster into gear, and pulled into the lane. After a few moments, she eased the motorcar into the bustle of one of the main roads of Aldon, the traffic moving at a crawl thanks to the clogging mix of horse drawn carriages, steam vehicles, magically-powered motorcars, bicycles, and pedestrians.
The noise of all the traffic made more conversation impossible. It also made napping impossible.
After at least half an hour, the motorcar left the city, and Mama sped up on the macadam stretching into the countryside. Rolling hills and farm fields spread to either side, broken by the occasional tree-lined ditch or creek. Prosperous farmhouses with wooden shingles stood next to large barns while other, smaller homes had mere thatched roofs and a shed for animals. The road wound through the occasional village with its accompanying manor house perched on the outskirts.
Despite the wind in his face and the roar of the engine, Fieran dozed for much of the hour drive. Sleeping was better than dwelling on the churn of thoughts in his head.
When they pulled off the main road in the village closest to home and took the turn toward Treehaven, Fieran shoved himself more upright. He swallowed at the lump in his throat as Treehaven’s brick walls and thick green treetops came into view.
Who knew that he’d get all emotional just seeing home again. It wasn’t like he’d never expected to return from the war, exceptfor those few minutes when his aeroplane had spiraled from the sky.
The guards opened the wooden gates for the roadster, and Mama turned the motorcar onto the drive inside. The tires crunched on the gravel, shadows splashing over them from the tree branches overhead.
Mama parked the roadster in front of the house instead of pulling around back to the carriage house.
As she pushed her door open, an older man with silver hair and a sturdy frame strode from around the side of the house. He opened Fieran’s door. “Let’s get you inside.”
“Uncle Eugene?” Fieran blinked up at him, not taking the arm he offered.
Uncle Eugene wasn’t actually Fieran’s uncle any more than Uncle Iyrinder or Uncle Lance were. He was Aunt Patience’s brother, making him Merrik’s uncle by blood. Yet Uncle Eugene had served as the head guard here at Treehaven for as long as Fieran could remember, and it had felt only right as a kid to call him “uncle” right along with the other adopted uncles.
Uncle Eugene had never married, too dedicated to taking care of everyone else around him to take on a family of his own, and he seemed quite content with his choice. Thanks to being an elf friend to both Dacha and Uncle Iyrinder, he had aged more slowly so that he was still serving as the head guard even though he was in his nineties.
Fieran took Uncle Eugene’s arm and let him leverage him from the vehicle. It was galling to need so much help from the elderly, but Fieran wasn’t sure he could have gotten out of the roadster without help.
Uncle Eugene just made it worse by holding out a wooden cane. “Patience keeps giving these to me. Seems to think I need them. Here, you might as well put one of them to use.”
Fieran took the cane and, giving in, used it to steady himself. “Thanks.” He hesitated as Uncle Eugene turned toward the house, not sure how to voice this question. “Shouldn’t you be…in Estyra?”
“Patience thought it would be best if only she and Kari went instead of crowding Merrik.” Uncle Eugene’s gaze swung away from Fieran to stare into the forest. “And once she got there, well, Merrik isn’t doing well. He will barely talk to anyone. Patience thought it best if I stayed away.”
Fieran stumbled, his stomach sinking into his toes. He swallowed at that lump in his throat again.
He should be there for Merrik. Merrik shouldn’t have to go through something like this alone.
But Fieran was the last person Merrik would want to see right now.
Uncle Eugene hurried to tug Fieran’s arm over his shoulder to better support him, and Fieran didn’t want to admit how much he had to lean on both Uncle Eugene and the cane. Mama hurried to catch up, carrying Fieran’s swords and further steadying him with her free hand.
The walk up the steps, into the house, and down the hall seemed endless. Fieran didn’t even protest when Uncle Eugene steered him straight for the lift instead of taking the stairs to the second floor. When they finally reached his bedroom, he sank onto his bed with a groan. His hips and legs ached after sitting upright so long in the car. Yet he resisted the urge to lie flat with both his mama and Uncle Eugene there.
Uncle Eugene patted his shoulder and left.
Mama pressed a kiss to Fieran’s forehead. “Get some rest.”
“I’m fine, Mama.” Fieran worked up a smile. He was just sore. Just tired. And just trying really hard not to let the emotions churning inside him consume him.
Mama left, closing his door softly behind her.
