Secrets of the Starcrossed

by Clara O'Connor

  “I’m sorry. I know what it is he hopes.” She spoke softly, for my ears only. “I sense nothing at all.”

  I felt my heart sink slightly. Devyn had been wrong. I wasn’t the lost child. At most I had mixed blood and Shadower heritage. I felt somewhat disappointed. My life could now go back to what it had always been, but my path was one Devyn wouldn’t walk. Despite his orders to watch Marcus, with these clothes he could sneak out with the delegation and continue his search elsewhere. Stupidly, I felt my lower lip tremble as my eyes sought him out on the other side of the wide tent.

  Unaware of the crushing news, he had started to lift his shirt over his head, the muscles of his back shifting under his smooth skin. As if sensing my gaze, he turned slightly, and his eyes warmed. I swallowed as mine pulled away from his and helplessly tracked down his torso.

  “Argh,” the woman gasped, clutching my hands harder. “What is this?” She turned an accusing glare at Devyn.

  Devyn pulled on the Celtic tunic before responding.

  “I’m not sure. She has magic, I’ve seen it. But it doesn’t seem to be there all the time. Bronwyn saw her wield it but couldn’t sense it at all within her. I need you to tell me… tell us if she is of the old blood.”

  The older lady cast a speculative look at me before indicating that Devyn should take his seat once more.

  “I have never seen this before,” she admitted, turning to address me directly. “I could sense nothing at all, not even a latency and certainly not special in the way that the Griffin’s son hopes. There is a stillness in your blood that usually indicates a lack of magic. A person of the old blood has a different feel; our blood is alive, it swings and swirls, elegant and elaborate. Like the patterns that adorn our art, it is a mystery of interconnected patterns that sings through nature, with loops and tangles and unexpected directions that somehow achieve an unimagined symmetry and beauty. Your blood conveys none of this. It is less a stream or river than it is a shallow puddle. But the sight of our young friend”—her eyes gleamed with humour—“caused a ripple in that stillness, with a resonance that a shallow pool of water could not contain. This is a riddle to be solved.”

  At this the old lady pushed away from the table, going over to a drawer and pulling out some small bundles of twigs with leaves which she lit until they smoked.

  Fidelma waved one in the air, the small leaves emitting a surprising amount of smoke that wrapped itself around the tent. She then went over and stood in front of Devyn, her sharp eyes gazing at him contemplatively.

  “With the Griffin’s son here as the key, perhaps…” she said thoughtfully. “Please clasp each other’s hands in the traditional manner.”

  Devyn rolled up the elaborate cuffs of his tunic and laid his hands out face up and I did likewise. He then turned his palms, wrapping his fingers around my arm until our pulse points sat together. My entire being immediately focused on the feel of his heartbeat against my tender flesh, barely noticing as Fidelma moved behind my chair and laid her hands on my temples.

  “The Griffin?” I murmured questioningly. Twice the wisewoman had referenced it and Bronwyn had also used the term, but to my complete and utter lack of surprise, Devyn shook his head dismissively. Unable to help myself, I rolled my eyes. His continual lack of sharing information, particularly about himself, was, without doubt, his most infuriating trait.

  “Shhh,” Fidelma admonished, “I need you to focus. Feel the heartbeat that lies beside your own. Concentrate on the pulse of life that flows from the heart to the heart.”

  The Celtic woman’s voice was soft, mesmerising, and I felt every bone and muscle melt at her instruction, my entire being becoming nothing more than the swirl of blood in my veins, sweeping alongside Devyn’s. My lids grew heavy even as my eyes lazily followed their favourite journey across the planes of Devyn’s face, his high cheekbones, straight aquiline nose, lips that were neither too full nor too thin, and back up to the deep, deep darkness of his eyes.

  * * *

  I stood, pacing to the window, and found myself looking out across a beautiful storm-swept lake, lush green hills rolling beyond. The trees covering them were towering and ancient, so unlike the ones with which I was more familiar… from somewhere else.

  I shook my head, trying to remember the trees I was used to, but the flash of a girl huddled on the floor in a dark room with tangled hair and grey eyes snapped up to meet mine.

  Marina.

  Heeled boots tracking quickly up the corridor made a racket on the stone floor, the rumble of masculine laughter tumbling into the room ahead of the dripping wet pair who entered.

  “I’m fairly certain I was first, again,” the darker of the two proclaimed.

  “I’m fairly certain you cheated, again,” the taller boy retorted, his easy smile taking the bite out of the accusation.

  “It’s not the game that’s played but the battle that’s won,” he got in return as Devyn’s brown eyes twinkled merrily in my direction.

  I looked them up and down in disgust. “Dripping wet, the pair of you. You’d better hurry along before Mother sees you. You were supposed to be back an hour ago.”

  He clicked his heels and with a sharp laughing salute was gone.

  I sighed. Mother’s anger would be as rain before the sun. She could never manage to hold on to her annoyance at her laughing boy. I frowned. Mother was warm and beautiful, but a vision of cold eyes dripping with disdain flashed before me. It was but a fleeting thought as I was swept up in his arms.

  “Stop, Dev.” I laughed, catching his shoulders. “You’ll ruin my dress.”

  “And no doubt your mother will be just as stern with you.” He smiled down at me, following his words with a sweet kiss dropped on my lips.

  I pulled away. “Stop, somebody will—”

  A scream ripped through the castle. I tried to pull away, to run, but he held me fast. The light dimmed, blood seeping into the corridor from the direction the other boy had taken.

  I reached up and touched the face of the man holding me. He was real, this was real, he was here with me.

  Wasn’t he?

  He pulled away as the sound of approaching boots made its way into the room, which had previously felt so safe, so untouchable. I didn’t want to be alone. Please.

  I pulled his head back down to mine, pressing my lips determinedly, anxiously against his. A feverish fear overpowered me. He was leaving me. Why would he leave me?

  No, I wouldn’t let him.

  My hands scrabbled to gain a hold of his shoulders and my kiss turned frantic. I could sense him trying to control the kiss, make it more substantial, reassuring me with the depth of it that he was here with me.

  But he wasn’t, he wasn’t. He was trying to detach himself from me. Arms reached for me as he pulled away. Despair clawed at me.

  * * *

  “Enough,” The command came sharply and abruptly, her nails sharp, her grip surprisingly strong.

  I snapped back, almost falling out of my chair as I pulled myself off Devyn. A half sob escaped me, a symptom of the residual emotion ploughing through my body. Devyn reached for me, his arms about to go around me, but I pushed him away, anger rising to the surface.

  “What in Hades was that?” I demanded of the two Britons. Devyn looked at Fidelma, his expression indecipherable.

  “A projection. But whose… ?” the woman uttered softly and, from my point of view, unhelpfully. “How interesting.”

  “What do you mean?” I gritted again. The last time I had seen things it had been other people, people in the past. This time had felt like the present but not any present I knew. One where Devyn joked and twirled me in his arms when he entered a room.

  “Sit,” the woman urged me gently. “You’ve had a shock. Can I get you a tea?”

  Tea? “No, no, thank you.”

  The wisewoman continued to indicate I sit back down, and I did so. Devyn, rebuffed from his attempt to hold me, had moved to the chair at the side of the tent, his head
wearily in his hands, as if he too had felt the emotional punch of being wrenched back from the place I had just been.

  “Has anything like this happened before?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen things.”

  Fidelma tilted her head to one side as I recounted the episodes I’d had in Richmond, seeing the Tewdwr girl in the stable, the travellers chased by the sentinels on the riverbank.

  “Those were things that have been.”

  “The girl and her father survived?” I asked, unsure why I was so invested.

  “Her father died in the attack, but the child lived,” she answered abstractedly.

  “And what I saw just now?”

  “This is something else… a life that might have been.” Her brows drew together as she turned to Devyn. “One that has been wished for.”

  She sat back in her seat, her head tilted, birdlike, examining me. “You have every appearance of a citizen – you feel like one to me. Your spirit is light, untroubled, ordinary. That is a lie. I don’t know how, but there is another layer hidden beneath that one, a secret layer, hidden, trapped.”

  I leaned forward, urging her on. “What secret? Hidden by whom?”

  The older lady reached a hand across the table and took mine.

  “I’m not sure what was done to you, or perhaps you did it to yourself.”

  “I don’t… what do you mean? What does this have to do with what just happened? With what I saw?”

  “You saw a possible present that could have been but isn’t,” she continued in her riddle-laden way. Celts. Never a straight answer.

  “I don’t understand.” My tone was brittle.

  The wisewoman smiled sadly.

  “The girl you saw was you and not you.”

  I exhaled my irritation. That made no sense. I looked over at Devyn. He looked like a harsh word would shatter him. His eyes were haunted.

  I frowned. “You saw it too?”

  He nodded.

  “Why were you there?” I asked, and, unable to stop myself, I whispered, “and why did you leave me to them?”

  “It was a dream, Cass,” he whispered.

  He looked up at me, his eyes still glittering with pain.

  “Just a dream.”

  His head bowed for another moment and then he stood, clearly shaking off the remnants of what we’d just experienced.

  He addressed the wisewoman who sat watching us both closely. “Cassandra is the girl. She’s alive. Right?”

  Fidelma ignored him.

  “Have you ever had any power to command the elements? Move things, create fire?”

  I shook my head.

  “Or any sense of the ley lines that run through the land?”

  I shook my head again. I knew about the magical energy lines but I couldn’t sense them.

  Fidelma studied me intensely before spreading her hands widely.

  “No. This dream means nothing. The girl you wished her to be is gone. The vision is a possible present that was yours, not hers.”

  Devyn’s shoulders dropped. She exhaled tiredly before turning back to me.

  “She has magic and her abilities are unusual – the ability to see is rare and more than could manifest in a Shadower with latent blood.”

  I had seen a possible present, not the past. A possible present in which I was with Devyn. I didn’t know who his friend had been. Was that my life, or did it belong to his mystery girl?

  Fidelma continued, “The depth I could sense means she is almost certainly a full-blood Briton with magic in her veins, but who knows of what lineage. If she were the one you seek, there would be signs of so much more. She has a gift to see but your destiny is strong. What she sees may be no more than a ripple of another version of your life, not hers. You must stop now. It is time to stop. It is time to come home.”

  Devyn shook his head and pulled away from her comforting hand.

  “She’s not dead. I have abilities that belong to the Griffin. If she were dead then my father would have been the last.” His shoulders squared. “Magic has faded in my line, except in those of each generation who are chosen to protect her. Then we are given gifts we need: the ability to blend in, to manipulate perception. How is it possible I can do these things if she is not in this world?”

  Fidelma smiled sadly. “It is a great gift indeed if you still have the skills of the Griffin. But is it not possible that these were triggered when you were a child and you knew her? You had a connection to her then, did you not?”

  He nodded, his cheekbones sharp in his strained expression. The old woman was destroying his hope, reasoning away the source of his belief in his quest. It was painful to watch.

  “Do you share a connection with this girl?” Her tired eyes flicked to indicate me as I sat trying to make myself as small as possible, not wanting to be part of this moment. Wanting to shield him – and myself – from the terrible pain in his eyes.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. I had felt in my vision in Richmond the connection the little boy had to the baby that had died that day; they had shared a special bond. He’d been able to feel her mood, almost as if he could read her infant mind. I was drawn to Devyn more than any man I’d ever met, but there was nothing mystical about it. It was purely chemical. Just one of the components that usually made up a codified match. It was something I had expected to feel towards Marcus.

  “But her vision…”

  “She saw the fall of the Tewdwrs in the old castle and that was not related to you. She saw your past and it did not need to be related to her.”

  Fidelma paused as she contemplated her next words. “You have wanted a different reality for so long that perhaps you influenced what she saw. What you saw may have been less her vision than your dream.”

  She turned to me now.

  “You have a great gift, child. When he leaves, you should go with him. You would be most welcome. I would be happy to teach you to master your gift.”

  Leave. Leave the city. Leave the safety and shelter of the only home I had ever known. I was sorry that Devyn hadn’t got the news he wanted but I was also somewhat relieved. Wasn’t I?

  “Why would I leave the city?”

  Devyn blinked slowly before standing and rolling his shoulders back.

  “You heard Fidelma. You may not be the girl I sought but you are a full-blood Briton. You’re not a citizen. You can’t stay here.”

  I stared at him. I had been so wrapped up in what it meant for Devyn that I hadn’t…

  I was a Briton. With magic. How was this possible?

  I shook my head. I didn’t need this. I could start taking the pills again. All this could go away.

  “No. I agreed to be here because you were supposed to be finding out how to help him. That’s it. Maybe I was curious about who I really am but that’s it. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I turned back to the wisewoman, who was looking alarmed at my raised voice. Her palms rose, indicating that I should lower my voice. I took a steadying breath.

  “I don’t know what I just saw, or how I keep seeing these things, but there are pills for that.” I took a breath. “I’m sorry that that baby died. Truly I am. But I agreed to come here and meet you in exchange for something to help my friend. That’s it. Can you help or not?”

  Fidelma smiled softly. “Bronwyn tells me that your friend is using magic to help people with the illness. Yes?”

  I nodded. “Can you help him?”

  “Perhaps. I would very much like to meet him and to understand what he is doing. We have many of our own who are ill, and though we have our own ways, knowledge is always useful and I would be happy to help him, of course. We are only here for one more day. You will need to bring him to me.”

  “That won’t be possible.”

  The wisewoman’s brow lifted. “It is the only way. I’m told he is untrained and showing signs of fatigue? It’s very dangerous to use this kind of magic untrained, all too easy to tap in to your own life-force as your emotions beco
me entangled with your desire to help.”

  “I can’t. He wouldn’t be able to come here. Nobody is going to comment if I visit a fortune-teller in the year of my marriage but Marcus visiting a Briton privately would be noted.”

  The wisewoman’s eyes sharpened.

  “Marcus? Marcus Courtenay? This is of whom you speak? He is using magic, enough to cure people… and this is who you are to marry?”

  Even though she was still technically directing her questions at me, she was looking to Devyn for confirmation.

  “Yes.” His voice was low as he uttered the single word.

  “You’re sure he’s using magic?” There was a tremor in her hands as she brought them to her lips at my nod of confirmation. “You’re right, of course; he cannot be seen with us. It would attract too much attention. But he puts himself at terrible risk if he continues to treat people in this way.” The wisewoman nodded hurriedly. “I will help if I can.”

  She stood and began ushering us out of the room.

  “You, boy, return later and we will discuss arrangements. The ball tomorrow night is our best chance.” But she looked not entirely convinced as she said this.

  “Now go.”

  As I made to leave, her delicately aged hand grabbed my arm in a surprisingly firm grip. “Tell no one of your abilities. Already too many know. Come to me and I will help you. So many lives depend on you making it home safely.”

  “I’m not sure…” The very thought of leaving the city—

  No. If I started taking the pills again everything would be fine. “My path is here with Marcus.”

  “No, my dear,” she said, not unkindly. “It is not.”

  My eyes flicked to Devyn.

  “Ah.” She started to smile then her eyes lost focus and her hand gripped my wrist tightly. “Your fates are entwined and you will be with him to the end, but he will not be with you.”

  “That makes no sense,” I said. “What does—?”