Eamon burst through the large double doors of Dun Croí and out into the sunlit gardens. Squinting against the bright light before his eyes quickly adjusted, he searched from side to side, looking around desperately for any sign of Cian.
He felt so stupid now, in hindsight. Why hadn't he told Cian that there was family here for him and his siblings? Why hadn't it even crossed his mind? Maire had ordered him not to tell whomever they might find in their search about her due to reasons he didn't fully understand, but it wasn't like he was bound to obey those orders. He could have told Cian about it at any time. Instead, he had allowed him to be blindsided by the hurricane-force attitude that Maire was famous for. It made her a strong leader, but she was not the most kind or loving woman he had ever met.
He felt ashamed of himself. Cian was meant to be his everything, his anamchara, the person he was supposed to protect above everything and he had not told him such an important piece of his history. He had a lot of apologizing to do. He could only hope Cian would talk to him.
Suddenly, he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his right eye. Spinning quickly, he spotted Cian disappearing behind a row of shrubbery not too far away. Eamon wasted no time in sprinting off in the same direction.
"Cian!" Eamon called as he turned around the same shrub before stopping short. It was one of the little sections of the garden that had a statue of a deity in the middle. But, instead of Abnoba, whose likeness they had passed on their way to Dun Croi, this one was guarded by Lugh, the god of oaths and truth. The tall warrior stood stoically, a great mass of curls upon his head and his five-pointed spear in his hand.
Eamon mentally scoffed, thinking how cruelly fitting it was that his deception (as unintentional and lacking in malice as it was) should be brought to light under Lugh's unforgiving stare. Turning away from the god, he spotted Cian.
He was sitting in the grass with his back against a young tree not too far down the row of shrubbery Eamon had just passed. His knees were drawn to his chest, his chin resting upon them. His red curls fell into his eyes and Eamon could not make out his expression from so far away. Slowly, Eamon walked toward the man before stopping just in front of him. He knelt softly, close to Cian but not quite touching, unsure if his presence was at all welcome.
"Cian?" Eamon asked gently, bending slightly lower to try and catch the man's eyes. "Are you alright?"
"Am I alright? Really?" Cian's head snapped up, granting Eamon's wish of eye contact, though he almost wished he hadn't when he saw the hurt and anger still swirling there. "What do you think?"
"I'm so sorry, Cian! I-" he was cut off before he could finish by Cian's scoff.
"Sorry about what exactly? About not telling me that I had, not just a family member waiting here, but one as close as my paternal grandmother? Or about choosing to follow an order, one that makes no logical sense by the way, over choosing to tell me something so important? Which one is it that you are so sorry about?"
Cian's voice was rising again, bordering on yelling, but underneath the volume, Eamon could hear his voice cracking, emotion thick in his voice.
"I'm sorry about all of it," Eamon continued, moving to sit cross-legged rather than kneeling. He moved closer until his crossed shins touched Cian's raised ones, reaching his hands out to grip around his calves. "I never meant to hurt you."
Cian made another scoff of disbelief. "Yeah, well, good job." His head lowered again, eyes moving to stare off to the side, the anger seeming to die out leaving only hurt behind.
"I have been following Maire's orders since I was old enough to understand them. She has led our garrán for as long as I can remember. It is no excuse, but I am hoping you can understand. I didn't know you when I promised her. And when I did finally meet you, it completely left my mind that she existed at all."
"How does something like that slip your mind?" Cian asked, incredulous. His eyes snapped back to meet Eamon's once more, the shine of tears still present.
Eamon hesitated a moment, unsure of exactly how truthful he should be, fear of rejection tearing at his mind. However, he could feel the burn of Lugh's eyes upon his back and decided that he owed Cian the whole truth, no matter the consequences.
"When I met you, Cian, everything changed," Eamon started. "Priorities shifted and suddenly things that had been at the forefront of my mind didn't matter at all. All that mattered was you."
Cian's eyes moved across Eamon's face, trying to decide what to make of what was just said. He didn't have the most extensive romantic experience, but that sounded a lot like a confession of feelings to him. But, that was impossible.
"What do you mean?" Cian asked, wanting clarification before he responded.
Eamon sighed, gearing himself up for explaining. "Remember when I explained why Eoin and Ashling seemed so close? Why their sudden closeness to each other would be such a natural feeling for them?"
"Because of the anamchara thing?" Cian said, nodding, anxiety ripping through his body. "Soulmates or whatever?"
"Yes, that," Eamon said, faltering slightly on getting the next sentence to form in his mind. "Well, I was able to describe it to you as extensively as I did because I have met mine."
Two things went through Cian's mind almost at the same time. First was a bizarre jolt of jealousy that the first man he was attracted to in a long time was in love with someone that was not him. The second was confusion as to how that fact had anything to do with what they were talking about.
Eamon had paused in his explanation to let his last words sink in, thinking the Cian must have gotten what he was alluding to, being the smart man that he was. He was understandably shocked at Cian's next question, so much so that he almost fell over.
"What does that have to do with me?" It was official: Eamon was fated to love an idiot.
"It has everything to do with you, Cian, because it is you!" Eamon all but shouted the confession for all the garrán to hear, shaking Cian's legs from where he still gripped his calves. "You are my anamchara!"
Cian sat completely still for a moment, staring the other man straight in the eyes as if looking for a falter, a hint that this was all a joke. There was no way that was true! How could a man as perfect as Eamon be his soulmate? It made no sense to him. He should be with a supermodel or something, not red-haired, freckle-faced Cian McCoubrie who couldn't even hold down a job.
"No," Cian said, flatly. "You said anamcharas were both magic users. I have no magic."
Eamon's heart broke a little. He had feared rejection, but now that it seems to be happening, it hurt more than he thought it would. "You don't know how to use your magic yet, Cian. You do have it, it's just a matter of finding it!" He was desperate to try and get Cian to understand and accept what was happening. He needed Cian, as selfish as that sounded.
He had never given anamcharas a thought before, having never thought that he would ever find his. He had read all of the great love stories about them through his training years like everyone else, but it felt like a faerie tale. His parents had not been fated nor any of the other couples he had ever met. But now, he was face to face with his other half and the thought of being rejected by him nearly tore him apart.
"I can't be your soulmate," Cian said, again with a flat tone conveying no emotion at all, his gaze drifting off to the side to avoid looking at Eamon. "You're wrong."
"Cian," Eamon said sternly, reaching forward to grab the other man by his shoulders tightly and leaning his head down to once more force eye contact, "I am not wrong. I felt it as soon as I met you that first night. I don't want any other soulmate but you."
Cian's mask began to falter, emotional cracks beginning to form. His eyes still held contact with Eamon's, the shine of tears he had before surging back. "But, you're perfect. And I'm just…me."
With that one sentence, Eamon's heart fully broke, but for entirely different reasons. Cian wasn't rejecting him because he didn't want him. He thought he wasn't good enough for Eamon. What a load of bull shite, Eamon thought furiously before making himself a silent vow to kill whoever was responsible for tearing Cian's self-confidence down this low.
"Cian, you are the most amazing man I have ever met," Eamon started, moving his hands for Cian's shoulders to rest against the sides of his face so he couldn't look away. "You are smart, compassionate, and endlessly kind. I am incredibly blessed by the gods that it is you that is my fated one. You are more than deserving of being loved and I will prove it to you every day until I die."
Eamon's vow rang in Cian's ears. He looked into those beautiful blue eyes a few moments longer before the emotions overwhelmed him and the tears broke free. He squeezed his eyes shut against them. He felt Eamon move gently in front of him before he felt the light pressure of lips on his own. For that one moment, the world stood still around them.