A Midsummer Night's Fling

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Hadrian

I'd intended on leaving and not turning back, but in a moment of weakness, I paused. Hidden in the shadows, I watched on as the girl I loved was swept up into the arms of another. I agreed that William was the better choice. He just wasn't me.

I tried to curb the jealousy that flooded me as they kissed—a true kiss of happiness. I didn't doubt that their lives would be one of married bliss, and whatever challenges they faced, they would do so together. It was the way it was meant to be.

My heart had a hard time believing.

I commanded my body to move as I saw William take something from his pocket and get down on bended knee. Aithne's hands flew up to her mouth as she cried with excitement, and I didn't need to hear to know he'd just asked her to be his wife.

Standing, William came behind her and tenderly brushed her hair aside so he could attach the token of his affection around her neck. The medallion he'd crafted with his own two hands—pouring all his love and commitment into the task.

He'd shown me the previous night, and we'd both agreed how ironic it was that he'd etched the figure of a fairy on one of the pendant's faces. On the other side, he'd scribed the words You've enchanted my heart. It was the perfect gift, a keepsake she would no doubt cherish for the rest of her life.

The more I watched the couple, the more the words of my mother came back to me. We'd yet to talk about my father and her relationship with him, but seeing the pain in her eyes as she spoke of her regret in losing him, made my next decision easier. A human life was short compared to that of the Fae—to have it filled with any kind of regret, small or large, was unacceptable.

In the brief time I'd known Aithne, I knew she was a passionate creature, and although she was grateful for the experiences we'd shared, sometime in the future she'd come to regret her indecision. She would look to the man she'd devoted herself to, and sorrow that she'd ever partially thought herself in love with another.

Imagining that kind of hurt in the eyes of my beloved Aithne sent a pain lancing through me. It was within my power to remove her memories—to take those of William as well—and make it so I was never there. I'd half hoped she'd ask when I offered her a parting gift, but in her gratitude and eagerness to see William, it had slipped by. Standing here in the shadows, already overstaying my time in this world, I would make it right.

I closed my eyes, and softly uttered their names in preparation for the spell but was interrupted when a firm hand grasped my shoulder. I turned around and found my mother and brother behind me, both wearing compassionate expressions.

"I know you think it is wise, Son, but I ask that you not complete the spell."

"It must be done Mother. Although it pains me that she would forget me, her regret hurts more." I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the sadness I saw reflected in her eyes.

"That is true, but what of the growth your Aithne has gained through this experience? By giving her a memorable night, she now knows her own heart and can be content. If you take her memories, she loses something priceless—her surety in choosing William."

"How is regret valuable? Why leave evidence I exist? Let me wipe their minds so they can focus solely on each other." Confusion warred within my mind.

"What you gave her is a gift she will always hold dear. Yes, there may be regret and times when she may wonder, but look, Hadrian. She is happy now."

I followed the direction my mother pointed and saw the wisdom of her words. Aithne and William were dancing, their laughter rising above the minstrel's music. Their features held a radiant glow, and it was difficult to look away.

"Trust me. Her joy will far outweigh any regret she may feel. You did the right thing. Now come home."

I nodded, and her hand brush against my cheek as she leaned forward and kissed me. I heard her footsteps fade softly, leaving me alone with Favian.

"Shall I take your memories, Brother?" He hadn't spoken a word before, but as I turned from the humans, I was grateful he was here.

"No. Mother is correct. Aithne was a gift I shall forever cherish. If I take away the memory, I take away the gift. They will be mine to bear alone." I clasped his shoulder, and squeezed.

"You truly love her."

"I do, but eventually all things must end. Maybe there is wisdom in these flings you speak of." Even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow.

"Perhaps. Come, let's return home. I'm sure we can find some kind of diversion."

Following Favian, the shimmering portal linking our worlds revealed itself, and I glanced around one last time.

"Take care of my heart."

And stepping through the opening, I said my final goodbye.