"Why are you here?" I snapped, rounding on Aeden. He regarded me with too-friendly amusement, gold flickering through his green eyes. It was distracting, almost as much as Ronan's dual colours. I kept my focus on them, though, seeking out any hint of his real thoughts. "What do you want? Did you know that bitch who stabbed me?"

He laughed, lifting his hands in surrender. "That's a lot of questions. Well, Maeve—that's your name, right?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. May I call you Mae?"

"No."

"Well, Mae, I did know Niamh. We weren't the greatest of friends." His eyes darkened, but it was soon washed beneath a smile. "Before that gloomy story, I'm curious—what are you doing here?"

I scowled. "This is my home."

"Then who are these humans?" He cocked his head, examining me. "Please don't tell me you're the type to lure mortals in for, ah, entertainment."

"No!" I shot upright, glowering down at him. "They're my family, you eejit."

"Family?" Aeden's smile cracked through with confusion. "That's impossible. You're a sídhe. We're a separate species."

My teeth ground together. There was something about the way he'd been referring to the others: not with anger or disgust, but a passive sort of disinterest. As if they were little more than friendly dogs at our feet. The thought set my blood alight, and I felt a few scraps of flame warm my fingers. "They've raised me. They're better family than any sídhe could be."

Aeden glanced around at Mam and my brothers, his eyes flitting from their faces to their clothes. His expression grew unreadable. There was a long silence before he shrugged, leaning back with the same cocky grin as before. "Aw, look how the blond one is blushing. You must not say you love them enough, Mae."

Conor immediately ducked his head. I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut, feeling heat climb into my own cheeks. It was easy enough to turn it into annoyance. I snarled down at the dark-haired stranger, shifting my weight off of my injured leg. "I've allowed you to come this far because you helped me, Aeden—"

"I saved your life, to be precise."

"Whatever. That doesn't mean I trust you. You followed me because you want something—"

He placed a hand over his chest, faking hurt. "Maybe I just wanted to make sure a pretty lady such as yourself got home safe."

"Is that so, leech?" I hissed. Nobody, save Ronan, was that stupidly selfless. "You've already gladly accepted a set of clothes and what was left of our clean water. Hell, if this goes on you'll probably take all of our food—"

His eyes lit up. "You have food?"

I limped forward, seizing his collar to yank him upright. "The point is that you aren't here out of the goodness of your heart," I snarled. "So spit it out. Why are you here?"

"Easy, easy." Aeden gave my wrist a little pat and, with a fluid duck, extracted himself from my grip. He scraped his fingers through his hair, pulling out a leaf as he did. He flicked it aside with a soft laugh, unbothered. "I'm not here to hurt you, or your... family."

Still avoiding the question. I whirled around with a snarl, getting the sense that this was going to take a while. My gaze landed on Conor. He was cringing into the corner, clearly wanting nothing to do with any of this. The fear in his eyes made me pause, and I sighed. "Why don't you go outside and watch the damn cattle, Conor?" I hadn't quite forgotten that they'd been left to fend for themselves outside. The beasts could probably manage—and I admittedly had bigger problems—but I was getting the sense that Conor would be glad for an excuse to leave.

He visibly sagged with relief and scampered to the door. Before he could grab the handle, I continued, "But stay close. If you see anything, run back inside. Got it?"

"Y-yes." With that, he vanished.

There was a beat of silence, and then Aeden sighed dramatically. "He moved fast. Am I that scary?"

"Not nearly as much as I will be if you don't start talking," I growled, turning back to him. Pain lanced up my leg, and I threw myself back into my chair. I was tired, aching, and far too annoyed to deal with any more of his jokes.

"Well, since you asked so nicely. Let me begin." Aeden offered me a mock bow, his lips tilting at one corner, before pacing in a small line before the fire. The flames cast an odd shadow over his face as his expression grew more serious. "Niamh was chasing me at first, but something changed when I led her past this town. She went to you. I followed." He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I'm here because I want to know why she attacked you, particularly. It's odd—even for her."

"Why was she after you?" I asked, steepling my fingers. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Not to her, at least." He paused, his face tilting towards me. His smile returned, but the light didn't quite catch his eyes. "Didn't you notice? There was something strange about her, Mae."

"Strange?" Ronan asked, finally speaking up. His brows were furrowed with concern. "What is strange, by the standards of the aes sídhe?"

I frowned with him. There were a few key differences between my kind and humans: we didn't age after adulthood, we didn't need to eat or sleep as frequently, we healed faster, and, most importantly, we didn't think the same. I didn't cling to the same foolish morals most humans did. Most of us didn't. Ronan knew this—I knew this. It was simply the way of things.

What we did have in common with humans was variety. The drunk fool who'd attend Tirlagh's festivals, for example, was nothing like the merrows on the coast. Those women had an obsession with luring in human men, only to drag them into the sea. I found it ridiculous, but it was their nature. I'd never considered it strange. Annoying and rude, but not strange.

But... Niamh had acted differently. She hadn't attacked a stray human that wandered on her land: she'd tried to kill me.

"She blindly attacked another sídhe," Aeden answered even as I thought it. His voice grew oddly flat, and he began to pace faster. He waved a hand at Ronan, for once directly addressing my brother. "She trespassed. You saw what Niamh did. I'm not one for rules, but there are lines our kind must not cross. We can't. It feels..."

"Wrong," I finished. My voice came quieter than I meant it to. I straightened my shoulders, exhaling sharply. "You like reading about us, Ronan. You ought to know that we have certain... instincts." My lips twitched into a snarl. "I protect Tirlagh. It is mine. She had no right to attack me on my land."

I could almost hear Ronan's thoughts turning, grinding against one another as he tried to piece it all together. "You had to give Aeden permission to enter the house."

"Mam dragged him inside before I really could, but yes. He could've done it anyways, although..."

"She would've killed me," Aeden chirped.

"I still might," I grumbled. I reached back and tugged my braid over my shoulder, running a finger over the plaits. Several strands of hair had come loose; I pulled out my hairband and began to comb the braid out. "Aeden. You ignored one of my questions."

He tilted his head, all innocent curiosity. "Did I?"

"Don't play that game with me. Why was Niamh chasing you?" I yanked my fingers through a tangled section of hair until it came loose. My suspicion leaked outwards; I felt the air around me warm, and the flames in the fireplace flared orange-white. A sídhe chasing another of her kind... I hadn't heard of such a thing. Nor could I imagine a reason—not unless he'd done something to piss her off, and in a big way.

There was a brief silence. Aeden angled his head back, his eyes drifting to the thatched ceiling. He let out a slow hum. "I did nothing to her."

"You said that." I began to rebraid my hair, watching him closely. "And it's not an answer."

He chuckled softly. "It's... a rather personal matter, Mae."

"You're wearing my brother's pants. We're past personal. Besides," I said, "you want help with something, and I'm not lifting a finger until I know you're worth it."

"Mm..." He turned to side-eye me. "Why do you say that?"

"Why else would you still be here?"

His lips tilted upwards. "Heh. I suppose... well, I won't deny that I could use some help." His eyes fell to my hands. "And you are quite suited to fighting."

The compliment caught me off guard. I leaned forward a little, scrutinising his expression. The smile was the same as always—that is, annoyingly bright—but his voice betrayed him. As much as he tried to disguise it, admitting he needed aid wounded his pride. Perhaps more than wounded. I sighed, tying off my new braid. "All right. How much trouble are you really in?"

A beat of silence passed, in which I could hear the soft rustling of Mam working the loom. Aeden's gaze flicked between her and Ronan before he leaned back. Perhaps he wasn't quite as indifferent to their presence as he pretended to be.

"Niamh's, ah... husband," he said. "Shayne. He's also been acting strangely—even more so than her. The two of them have been chasing me about for the last few months." His smile remained, but he began to twist a corner of his cape in his hands, and his voice darkened. "I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up."

"Months?" Ronan said, his eyes wide. "How did you survive that long against two others of the fair folk?"

"Running very, very fast. It's my specialty, you know."

"So this Shayne was also chasing you. Why?" I pressed. Sun and moon, I felt like the only one keeping the conversation on track.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know. Nothing they did made sense." His tone remained casual, but I noticed that his fidgeting had grown even worse. He combed his dark hair back with his fingers and resumed his pacing, neatly avoiding the too-bright fireplace.

"You're lying," I said without thinking. Everything he said had been too vague: he was hiding something.

Aeden turned to me. The smile slipped from his face, leaving it oddly serious. "Ah-ah, Mae. I don't owe you every detail. They're the ones who began the feud, and I have no intention of harming you or your family here. I'll swear to the truth of that."

The weight of the promise prickled across my skin, as did the defiance in his gaze. His eyes flared gold, and, for a moment, I felt power flicker through the air around him. It was subtle, a thin skein of energy that clung to his body. A moment later, it faded. He spread his hands, palms facing me.

Not a threat, then, but he was holding his ground against me. In my own house. Quite the bold move. Infuriating, but bold. I shot him a glare but let it slide, mulling over his words. Promises were not easily made nor broken among our kind, and Aeden had shown no sign of deceit when he made it. "So you need help escaping Shayne."

"Not quite. I want to figure out what's going on: Niamh attacked you, too, so I know it isn't just me." He rubbed the back of his neck, lips pressed together in thought. "Whatever's gotten into them, I don't like it. They don't seem at all worried about starting a war."

"A war?" Ronan asked. "What does a war have to do with this? And between who?"

Aeden flicked a finger in his direction and grinned, as if my brother had asked a particularly entertaining question. He seemed rather pleased with Ronan's curiosity up until now; I had a terrible suspicion he was enjoying the attention. It was better than annoyance—which could turn dangerous—but I didn't like the cocky edge to his smile one bit.

"Everyone, lad." Aeden said. "There may not be as many of us as you humans, and we might not group together quite so much, but we aren't completely isolated. One uncontrolled feud, especially the sort they're starting, can easily turn into another. Then another, and another—and that.... Well, that can get terribly messy."

"Which is why the aes sídhe tend to avoid each other." Ronan gave a knowing nod. "To avoid causing too much direct conflict."

I rested my elbows on my knees, gnawing at my lower lip. Messy was an understatement. The tussle I'd had with Niamh was nothing compared to the stories of full-out wars between our kind. With the power some of us held, disputes could easily spill out and cause chaos—especially in the mortal realm. Save their iron and salt, humans were rather defenceless against our kind. If I hadn't controlled my flames when I fought Niamh, I could only imagine how much I could've burned.

"What do you plan to do?" I asked.

Aeden cupped his chin in one hand. "I have an old friend who might know more. I'll go to her. We didn't part on the best of terms, but I'm—"

"Desperate?" I interrupted.

He screwed up his nose. "Oh, don't put it like that."

I sighed and stood up, batting aside the arm Ronan offered me. "I'm going with you."

Aeden blinked. "You are?"

"You are?" Ronan echoed.

"Niamh came here for me, and I'm not going to risk attracting more mad eejits like her to Tirlagh." I folded my arms. "I plan to figure out what the hell is going on." It also had to be admitted that, as annoying as he was, Aeden had saved my life. He was friendly, as sídhe went, and there was no reason for him to create such an elaborate lie. And he needed help.

If Aeden was relieved, he didn't show it. A simple grin settled across his lips as he spread his hands. "As you wish, Mae," he said, as if he hadn't been the one not-so-subtly pleading for help.

"It's Maeve."

"Aw, but Mae sounds so much cuter."

"Well, I'm glad we've sorted this out," Ronan interjected before I could launch myself at Aeden. He turned his calm, brown-blue eyes on me. "Let me come with you."

"No." I'd been expecting him to try something like that; my response was immediate. "No, no, no. It could be dangerous."

"That's what I'm worried about." He spoke gently, but his voice was firm. "Maeve, you aren't a peacemaker. You could use me."

"If it comes down to a fight, you can't protect me, Ronan."

"I can, at the very least, protect myself." He glanced about the house. "I'll take a knife. Perhaps a ward."

Aeden winced, just slightly. "Must you?"

"I must," Ronan said smoothly. He turned back to me. His mouth was set, and he lifted his chin a bit while somehow managing to avoid looking down on me. He looked frustratingly determined.

"Listen to him, child," Mam said, looking up from the loom. I started; I'd almost forgotten she was there. The woman was terribly silent when she wished to be. Her blue eyes drilled into me, sharp and even. She spoke with the tone of someone who had made up her mind, as if she and Ronan had planned on this all along. "You're fierce, but that doesn't solve every problem. You'll need him. Besides, I'm not so sure about this scamp," she added, squinting at Aeden. "He's too wild."

"Thank you," he said, lifting his arms in a languid stretch. From the pleased look in his eyes, one would think he'd been given a grand compliment.

I bit back a groan. They were pairing up against me. Ronan rarely got this insistent, but when he did there was no changing his mind. Mam was even worse. So, despite the unease curdling in my gut, I nodded. My brother was weak, but I couldn't deny that he was smart. And he could also wield iron. So long as he could hold his ground against another sídhe, however briefly, I could protect him.

Ronan's smile came soft, but there was a gleam of victory in his eyes that made me immediately regret my decision. He squeezed my shoulder. "Mam and Conor can take care of the farm."

I looked at our mother. She'd found and raised me after finding me beside the ocean as a child—as well as two boys. Father had died early on, leaving her to manage the farm as well. She was, without a doubt, a strong woman. This was her land before it was mine. She'd know what to do.

"A human as well? This'll be interesting," Aeden said brightly.

Flame sparked across my fingers. "He has a name."

"I know, I know. Ronan." He dipped a short bow in my brother's direction. It was a terrible bow. "But keep any metal to yourself, eh?"

"Of course." Ronan's eyes flicked towards me. "I'll be careful."

"Right," I said. I swept my gaze around the house—the beams our late father had hewn when he built the place, the tools and clothes scattered haphazardly about, the crude wooden crosses and animals Conor carved in his spare time. It was modest, but it was mine. And so was my family. If I had to leave to kill a few more crazed aes sídhe like Niamh to protect them, so be it. "Time to pack."