Page 39 of A Celtic Vow
They were in the same cave, except the oak wasn’t there.
“C’mon, Aodh!” Little Constance slid to a stop at the opening in the rock the trunk now grew up through. “This is the perfect place for it. I’m sure of it.” She shook her head. “Nobody will ever find it.”
Before he could stop her, she vanished into the hole.
“I don’t know.” Little Aodh went to the edge and looked down at her with uncertainty. “’Tis a sacred tree we stole from, lass.” He shook his head. “That cannot mean good things.”
Aodh frowned and joined his younger self, only to see little Constance kneeling on the ground, looking up with pleading eyes.“You have to help, Aodh. I’m certain that’s the only way it will live.” She shook her head, seeming convinced. “And we didn’t steal. It was there waiting for us.” Constance nodded once, certain of it. “You saw it yourself, so you know this is for the best. That it won’t die this way.”
“Won’t it, though?” Young Aodh eyed his surroundings with uncertainty. “’Tis truly not the best spot for it.”
“So says you.” She gave him eyes he’d never been able to deny and urged him to join her. “Please. Like I said, I can’t do this without you.”
Young troubled Aodh frowned at her for another moment before he released a heavy sigh and joined her. She smiled, pulled him down beside her, and urged him to dig.
He shook his head with disbelief as the children dug with their hands, their dragon eyes glittering in the dark before young Constance urged him to stop.
“That’s deep enough.” She pulled an acorn out of her pocket and dropped it in the hole. “Now we must bury it and say a prayer to the gods that it survives. That it’s as mighty as its mother.”
Aodh only had a moment to realize the acorn had come from King’s Heart before the dream twirled away only to be replaced with another. The acorn had given way to a tree, and the top was now in the cave where he and Constance slept. Astoundingly enough—because he had no memory of this other than when they were children—now they were teenagers.
He was mayhap around seventeen winters.
“I told you it would be special,” she said, as enchanted by the young tree as him. He sensed they had come here often over the years. Watched it grow. Took joy in something that shouldn’t exist.
That some might consider blasphemous.
“’Tis special,” his young self agreed, clearly smitten with her. How could he not be when she was blossoming into the great beauty she would become? “As are ye, lass.”
Constance blushed and fiddled with a bit of grass lucky enough to find life there. As lucky as the tree itself.
“You always say that,” she murmured. “And I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Yet I will again and again.” He went to touch her cheek but stopped. “Even if I can never touch ye. Never—”
“Don’t, Aodh.” Constance gave him a warning look. “Don’t say it let alone think it.” She shook her head. “We can be friends and nothing more. At least until the prophecy is upon us. If we find our way to each other sooner, it might mess everything up.”
He felt his younger self’s angst at that. His overwhelming fear she might be right. More so, as much as he craved touching her, had long desired her, losing what they shared now would be devastating. Too much to bear.
“Isn’t this enough anymore?” she said softly, her heart in her eyes when she looked at him, her own desire barely disguised. “Just being friends? Best friends? Closer to each other than anyone else?”
“’Tis,” he said automatically, if for no other reason than to make her happy. Or to keep her as happy as he could, considering how difficult it had become for them lately. Because their friendship had become something far more. Something that aroused him every time he looked at her. “This will always be enough if ‘tis all we are allowed, lass.”
“I hope so.” She rested her transparent hand over his on the rock at his side. “Because I don't want to lose this. I don't want—”
She was about to say more, but he couldn’t quite focus on her anymore. Not when he felt a strange pull to the south. An overwhelming need to protect her. As if compelled, Aodh looked in that direction. What was drawing him that way? Who called to him?
“Don’t go.” Constance placed her other hand over his as though she could actually touch him. Stop him. “Please don’t go, Aodh.”
He wanted to listen to her but knew he needed to confront this. That it was the only way to keep her safe. Yet the moment he stood, the chance was ripped from him, and he jolted awake to more than he anticipated.
