Page 64 of Falling for the Felid
“I made an oath,” I snap, unable to take it anymore. “When you gave me a second chance, I swore an oath to protect and serve our people under your leadership and the leadership of whoever the life force selects next. I swore to never let anything or anybody distract me from my service to those I so gravely wronged, and I won’t. When I eventually die, it will be in furtherance of the oath I made. I won’t squander this second chance, and I will prove that I earned the faith you put in me.” My voice breaks on the last word, and I clench my teeth, looking at my coffee cup on the table as I try to drag my emotions back under control.
“Oh, Ari.” The king’s words float to me on a wave of pity and concern. “That oath was meant to give you absolution. It was meant to give you purpose and drive at a time when you were so lost. It was never meant to be a punishment.” His hand finds my chin and tips my face up so I can meet his gaze. “It was never meant to be chains holding you back from happiness.”
“I’m not unhappy.” My voice is hoarse, and I hate that.
“Maybe not, but you’re keeping yourself from something that could make you even happier… and why? Your oath doesn’t preclude you finding love.”
“My service has my full focus and loyalty.” For the first time ever, as I say it, it feels more like the chains he mentioned than the honorable sacrifice I’ve always thought it to be.
“Nobody doubts your focus or loyalty, Ari. That doesn’t mean you can’t allow yourself the joy and comfort of a partner. I can’t believe that anyone you loved would ask you to betray your people. Would Felix do that?”
“Never.” It’s not even a fully formed thought before it leaves my lips.
“Then why can’t you have both?”
I stare at my king, my breathing becoming shallow. Both?
“As far as I’m concerned,” he continues, “your millennia of service have more than made up for the actions of your youth. Especially since those actions came from lack of understanding rather than malice. If you feel the need to continue your service, I won’t deny you, but I also won’t allow you to deny yourself.” He stands, signaling that our conversation is over. “Think about it, Ari. What would you say to a misguided young man who saw the error of his ways and asked for absolution? Would you force him into eternal punishment?”
The shake of my head is barely a movement.
“Then why have you done that to yourself?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Felix
I fucked up big time,and I’m not sure if I can talk to anyone about it. Maybe Dáithí or Jared, but that might be crossing a line. I’m not really close enough to anyone on the team—yet—to trauma dump my private life all over them. It’s bad enough that they know I have one. Maybe one day, if the team culture keeps improving the way it has been.
And I definitely can’t talk to Ari about this, since talking to Ari about it is how I fucked up in the first place. I should have realized that when a guy says he can’t make any promises and is all mysterious and angsty about it, that means he doesn’t want to talk. It doesn’t mean “wait a month or so and then offer to be his confidant.”
This thing with Ari has been, weirdly enough, the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had. My friends and family don’t hate him. He understands and supports my relationships with them, unlike this guy Ted I dated a few years back, who thought I was too close to my family and needed to “cut the apron strings.” He’s encouraging and supportive of my career, which has also been a pain point in past relationships. We have common interests, common friends, incredible sex… and I genuinelylikehim. I like spending time with him. I like being part of his life.
I might even love him, though the responsible adult side of me thinks I should wait a little longer before saying that. Maybe until the end of the year.
Or never, given that I’ve fucked up whatever it is we have.Whydid I tell him he could talk to me? It’s not like I’m all that good at dealing with my own feelings—what possessed me to encourage him to tell me his? He probably thinks I’m pressuring him. He’s definitely freaking out, because ever since that day, he’s been different. Withdrawn. Pensive. I didn’t realize exactly how much time we’d been spending together until he backed out on me two out of the last three nights.
So what am I supposed to do now? Do I tell him outright that he doesn’t have to talk about his private business, or would that just make it worse? I could really do with some advice right now, but I don’t know who to ask. Our relationship isn’t exactly textbook standard. Fuck, for all I know, I’ve crossed some kind of cultural line. Maybe elves don’t ever talk about major personal crises to their partners. Maybe this is one of the pitfalls of an interspecies relationship that nobody told me about. I’ve never dated an elf before, and I don’t know as much about them as I do about other species.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I look up at Gline. “Are you coming?” he asks. “You’ve been sitting there daydreaming for five minutes.”
Fuck. The skating clinic. Somehow, in the middle of my internal angsting, I managed to get into my practice gear and skates. “Yeah. I’m coming.” I get up and follow him out of the room and to the ice.
Our teammates who also volunteered for this activity are already on the ice, warming up, while a group of teens watch from where they’re waiting with Erik, Ari, and what looks like a bunch of parents. This is one of the elf-dragon outreach clinics, and the kids seem to have a mixed level of interest. Some areprobably already fans, some are keen to try something new, and some would rather be elsewhere but are here because their parents never pass up a free activity. Types of parents are the same no matter what species.
Gline and I step out onto the ice, and as if that’s his cue, Erik holds up his hands for attention and begins giving a speech. I can’t hear it from here, but I assume it’s instructions for the afternoon. We were told the kids would be broken up into groups based on their experience, and I volunteered to work with the ones who’ve never skated before. Gline offered to join me, since it’s unlikely there will be that many teens here who’ve not only played hockey but also want to be goalies.
Erik turns and waves, and we all skate over and line up so he can introduce us. I hold up my stick in acknowledgment when he says my name, then tune out as he starts dividing up the groups. My gaze goes to Ari, who’s holding a tablet and directing teenagers on where to stand. His hair is pulled back in a french braid today. I haven’t seen him wear that style before—he usually prefers to leave it down or in a low ponytail. The way this draws his hair back really emphasizes his elven facial structure. One of the benefits of both of us working in places where humans aren’t common is that I rarely see him with any kind of glamour to change his face. I’m glad of that—he and his people have been through enough, without him having to hide all the time.
He looks up and catches me staring at him, and his face lights up with a beautiful smile. I smile back, thrilled… and confused. If he’s smiling at me like that, does that mean he’s not thinking of ending things? Not mad at me for broaching the unbroachable subject?
But then, why the distance these past few days? What’s made him pull away from me?
ARI
Erik and I send the kids out onto the ice, watch to make sure they all end up with the right players, and then turn our attention to the parents who want to talk. Some have questions about hockey and the outreach program, which I’m a little surprised to find I know all the answers to. I guess I’ve learned more than I thought in this last month or so.
The crowd of questioners has mostly dispersed when a kid comes racing in through the door from the front lobby, followed by a parent.
