Page 81 of The Splendor of Fire
His teeth gritted and his eyebrows formed two perfect arches over his umber eyes. “Arrêt. Stop this, Moira.”
She stilled, fuming with rage, unable to bring her hands up to sign to him. Unable to speak. Her mouth formed the words with measured rage.Let. Me. Go.
Mud dripped from a wavy clump of his hair and hit her mouth. “Not if you’re going to call me names and attack me. You need to learn to control yourself. This is exactly what I am talking about.”
Frustration cramped her chest, and to her horror, wetness formed in her eyes. The sting of inadequacy burned through her and a teardrop escaped from the corner of her eye. At once, his expression became soft and he let go of her arms, rolling off her.
Cold mud clung to her back, shoulders, and hair, but she did not get up. Instead, she brought a hand to her face and wiped the stray tear, feeling the streak of mud along her cheek she left behind. Defeated, she squashed her tears. As she’d learned twenty-seven years earlier, no amount of tears would restore her voice.
Embarrassed that she’d let her emotions run away from her, she looked at him, finding a piteous look in his eyes, making everything feel worse.
I’m sorry,she signed quickly.
His voice was tender. “I’m sorry, too.”
She nodded in acknowledgment and got to her feet, heading toward the tunnel.
“Moira, wait.”
She stopped.
“Let’s give it another go.”
Outside of the prison, they could do nothing but argue. The storm and sunshine of their relationship weighed heavy on her. Would they ever find what they had shared for a few fleeting days during the darkest timeof their lives?
“Moira, please. Trust me.” Those eyes. The pleading look in them.
The craving for him overtook her need for self-preservation and she returned to her position. Behind her she felt him crouch. One—she rocked. Two—she lifted to her toes. Three—she dropped her knees. Firm hands settled on her hips and held her tight. Four—she forced the ground away from her in a powerful thrust of speed. The potent force that he’d been holding back surged from his arms and launched her toward the sky. Sailing upward, she traveled several feet over him bringing her hands up in a grab, before beginning to sink. The palms of his hands caught the balls of her feet, his index fingers stabilizing her heels, and he held her aloft.
They’d done it.
He gave her a bounce, then caught her hips and lowered her to the ground. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she squeezed him, burying her face in his neck. After trying for hours, arguing like two cats in a sack, they’d finally done it. A smell of earth drew her in, and she rested her face against his muddy hair, tightly shutting her eyes.
“Areyousmellingme?”
Silent laughter bubbled from her as she dropped out of his arms and they stared at each other.
Fatigue set in, and her limbs felt heavy. It was time for bed.I’m tired.
He nodded and picked up the sodden, muddy tunic. They walked back toward the tunnel, crickets singing through the forest and dawn mist beginning to curl around them.
“You were right. You knew how far to push yourself. I’m—I’m sorry again.”
They stopped in front of the tunnel opening and she picked up her pink leine pulling it over her muddy head, suddenly self-conscious in her hose.
He took her hand. “I should have looked at you and listened to what you were trying to say to me. Can you forgive me, Moira?”
Heart rattled, secrets straining against the chains—she didn’t want to hide herself away. Her heart begged her to sign the words. In her mind she rehearsed them—Aileen. Call me Aileen. I want you to know who I really am.
His palm cradled her cheek.
I’m…I’m…
He studied her hands, waiting for her to finish. “I’m?”
I’m not…
Her heart longed to sayI’m not Moira Allen. I’m Aileen… Aileen from the sea. I don’t know who I am or where I come from, but I know I’m not Moira Allen. I’m someone else.
