by Mary Morgan
“Content.”
“Physically, not spiritually.”
She sighed and glanced away. “Somewhat tired.”
“Somewhat?” Liam stood and brought her along with him. “Tell me truthfully, Abela.”
“How can I explain what I have never experienced? I long to stretch out and take a nap. Even walking the short distance we did has left me tired.”
Liam rubbed a hand across his brow in thought. “You are not used to the human world. Perhaps there is a reason why only the Fenian Warriors are able to maintain their strength and powers here. I am glad we are returning to our home tomorrow.”
“I’m not,” she declared and pushed away from him. She hugged her arms around her body. “I know what we shall endure come tomorrow.”
“Are you worried or afraid?”
She waved her hand in the air. “Bah! Never do I fear them. If I can hold my own against the great Aidan Kerrigan and my father, I can do so before the Fae council.”
Liam stood and cupped her cheeks. “My brave princess.”
“Always.”
He brushed a feather-light kiss against her lips as tender as the summer breeze. “Why don’t you remain here, and I’ll fetch the food from the wagon.”
Shaking her head, Abela started forward. “I will be all right. I have no wish to be parted from you.”
“Brave and stubborn.” Taking her hand, he led her away from the river and in the direction of their wagon.
The air was warm, with a light breeze. They remained quiet on the duration of their journey. By the time they reached the wagon, they could hear faint music from the camp of the travelers.
“Beautiful. So full of gaiety,” commented Abela, slipping her hand free from his. She sniffed the air. “But I am happy we are not staying. I smell burnt animal flesh.”
“It no longer bothers me. I simply squash the unpleasant odor.” After retrieving the basket of food from the wagon and her cloak, Liam motioned for them to move out into the meadow away from the smells of the camp.
“Much better,” declared Abela, inhaling deeply as they entered the shade of a few birch trees.
After placing her cloak at the base of a tree, Liam opened the basket and peered inside. “The good folk have provided more than I requested. Fresh bread, apples, berries, mushrooms, cheese, and something sweet.” He lifted out a larger package and offered it to Abela. “It smells faintly of a honeyed cake.”
Upon opening the package, Abela gasped. “Is that some kind of jam?”
Liam reached across and swiped with his finger at the sticky fruit oozing out from the side. “Care to guess what kind?”
When she placed her mouth over his finger, Liam let out a soft hiss.
“Mmm…strawberry,” she replied. “My turn.” Taking her finger, she portioned out some and held it outward for him.
Reaching for her hand, Liam took his time in savoring the tart fruit mixed with the taste of Abela. A crimson blush grew from her neck to her face. Liam removed the cake from her hands and scooted near her. Cupping her chin, he sought out her lips. “Delicious,” he murmured against her skin.
Abela wrapped her arms around his neck. “Does this ever stop?”
Liam drew back and gazed at her. “What?”
She tilted her head to the side. “The desire to be in your arms, kissing and touching you.”
His hands stilled. “In all my lifetime, I have never known such desire. I find I am another man when I am around you. One who wishes to cherish you every waking moment. Will it stop? No, Abela. It grows by the hour.”
“Perchance it’s only the lure of Midsummer,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. “Or maybe the travelers have put an enchantment over the food.”
“You’re wrong,” he argued. “It’s neither of those reasons.”
Lifting her head, she asked, “How can you be so sure?”
He smiled fully. “Because this is what I felt all those years ago, except now I have tasted the forbidden fruit and will not be content with another.”
Her lips trembled. “Nor I.”
Liam showered her with kisses around her mouth and neck. “You are mine. Forever.”
Lost in each other’s embrace, they never heard the approaching horses until they were upon them. When the hiss of steel filled the air, Liam bolted to a standing position in front of Abela. Surveying the area, he counted six armed men, all with swords extended. Keeping his hand on his sword at his waist, he tried to detect who was the leader.
Abela stood and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Is there a reason you have your swords unsheathed? We are guests of the O’Malley,” protested Liam.
One of the men dismounted and stalked toward them. “I know who you are, MacGregor.”
Frowning, Liam stated, “We are at a disadvantage, since I do not know your name.”
“No, I don’t recall us being introduced. My brother dinnae include me in his discussions with the Fae warriors. He thought me beneath him.”
Liam bristled at the man’s words. “I can only surmise you are kin to O’Malley.”
He snorted. “Aye. I am Peter O’Malley.”
A tremor of unease settled within Liam. “Then why may I ask are you pointing your weapons at us, if you know we are guests of your brother?”
Peter’s sinister laugh surrounded them. “Ye were guests, but I am now in control of our clan. My brother has grown weak. When word reached my ears ye were requesting the Treaty of Feahan, I knew it was time for my plan to take over. I have bided my time for the right moment.”
“How did you know I wanted the treaty?” demanded Liam, tersely.
“I have my own spies.” He nodded to another man. “Bind the woman.”
“You touch her, and I’ll rip out your heart before you take your next breath,” warned Liam, glaring at the man.
“If you do, my man will use his blade on your woman,” argued Peter.
“Truth, Abela?” Liam dared not glance at her, instead keeping his focus on the men in front of him. Had another man moved silently behind Abela, or was it a ruse to misdirect his attention?
“Yes,” she affirmed, squeezing his shoulder. “He’s holding a blade at my side.”
Peter signaled to another man. “Remove his sword and bind him with the cuffs.”
Liam’s fury soon turned to shock when the man approached with Fae crystal cuffs and quickly placed them around his wrists—binding Liam’s powers. Glancing over his shoulder, he noted Abela’s wrists were bound with the same as well. Never before had Liam felt so exposed and helpless. She drew near his side, her eyes wide with fear.
Do not worry, I will protect you. He brushed the thought across her mind. She gave him a faint smile in acknowledgement.
Returning his attention back to Peter, he demanded, “Where did you acquire these from?”
Peter leveled a blade at Liam’s chest. “Apparently there are those in your own world who are not happy with some of the new events. They seek to undo recent changes in their world and want no resistance or interference.”
“You lie,” protested Abela. “No one would ever defy the king.”
His lip curled in disgust. “Wrong! And ye princess, will make a great bargain for wealth.”
Liam clenched his fists. “You have made a grave error here today. You will incur the wrath of the entire Fae kingdom.”
The man took a fist to Liam’s jaw. He staggered but remained unfazed.
Peter spat on the ground in front of him. “As long as I have ye both, nothing shall happen to me and my men. Ye are the fool. With the power of certain Fae backing me, ye will do exactly as I say.” He waved his men forward. “Let us retreat back to our camp. They can walk on foot.”
Grasping the reins of his horse, Peter mounted the animal.
Liam clenched his jaw so tightly he feared it would snap. Who would dare go against the King of the Fae? His mind reeled, trying to fathom any coherent thought. Yet, only one remained
. When he and Abela were freed, Liam would take a blade to the man’s heart and burn the hearts of all the traitorous Fae involved.
“Why can’t we ride one of the horses?” asked Liam.
Peter eyed him with contempt. “I am nae fool. Once ye are on a horse, ye can command the animal.”
One of the men shoved him forward. Abela kept a steady pace beside him. He might be used to being shackled, but this treatment to her was unspeakable. Had their kingdom splintered in his absence? Surely Abela would have mentioned the dissension within the realm. Or maybe she was unaware due to her time in the temple.
With each step he took, Liam drew in the energy of the land into his body—trying to keep focused and remain calm. His singular purpose was to free Abela and find the Fae traitors.
“Drop your shields, Abela,” he ordered within her mind.
She gave him a startled look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We need the aid of Conn and any other Fenian Warriors.”
“How can you be certain he is coming after me—us?”
“Because nothing will stop him from protecting you. It doesn’t matter if he is now the Prince of the Fae, I know your brother, and I can bet my life he is searching the cosmos for you.”
She nodded. “Done.”
“Good.”
Onward they traveled in a southeast direction away from the O’Malley’s camp. Had Peter already eliminated his brother? Family feuds left a bitter taste in his gut. He had no wish to become embroiled in a clan war. His gut soured more at the thought of his own world also choosing sides and dividing the kingdom.
As the hours bled into the next, the sun dipped in the late afternoon sky. Abela had stumbled twice, and her face had taken on an ashen color.
“What is wrong?”
“Weaker. Head…body hurts.”
“Lean back and I’ll scoop you into my arms.”
“No.”
“I can cradle you, Abela. Do not argue with me!”
She staggered and wiped her fingers across her brow. Stopping, she sighed and waited for him to take her into his arms.
“What are ye doing?” barked the man following behind them.
Ignoring the brute, Liam nodded to her and she fell back into his arms. Lifting her against his chest, she positioned herself and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Release her,” ordered the man.
“The princess has taken ill and cannot walk any .”
His captor punched him in the back. “I gave ye an order.”
Liam reeled around. “What do you think will happen if your leader finds out you’ve let his bargaining piece come to harm? The princess is unable to continue on this arduous journey.”
Uncertainty wavered in the man’s eyes. Scratching his beard, he grunted a curse and motioned them forward.
“Rest,” Liam uttered softly.
Abela sighed and closed her eyes.
When they finally reached a secluded area through a thick copse of trees, Liam crossed to a fallen log and gently placed Abela down. He took another count of how many men Peter had under his command, which at present had grown to ten. He also noted that his sword had been tossed to the ground beyond the trees. Fools—weak men. Did they fear the weapon?
“Water,” she muttered.
Liam returned his attention to Abela and tucked a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. “Your wish is my command.”
A smile tugged on the corners of her mouth, before she dropped her head forward.
Wasting no time, Liam stormed to where Peter was speaking with some of his men. The man who had accompanied them stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Ye will wait until spoken to.”
“Leave him be, Andrew,” ordered Peter, pushing him aside. “He can do nae harm with these special cuffs.”
“The princess has taken ill and requires fresh water,” demanded Liam.
Peter glanced behind Liam at Abela. “Is this a ruse?”
“On my honor, I have not deceived you.”
He waved a hand dismissively in the air. “I find it hard to fathom.”
Liam dared to take a step toward the man. His fury rising. “The princess is not accustomed to your world. She has grown weaker since her arrival here. I’m only asking for a little water.”
Peter scrubbed a hand over his face. “Someone fetch the Fae woman water!”
Grunts and curses ensued from the group of men, but soon, one of them made his way to her side.
“Thank you.”
Peter snorted and returned to his men.
Liam retreated to Abela’s side, taking a seat beside her. After she finished drinking the water from a flask, she handed it back to the man.
“Lean against my arm, mo ghrá.”
“What is wrong with me?”
Worry infused Liam, but he would not allow it to show. “The human world is not to your liking.”
“Definitely,” she acknowledged. But what bothers me is who the traitor in our kingdom is.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Can you think of anything that would cause this rift?”
“Yes…and no.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
She shuddered against him. “No. When Conn arrives—I pray soon—he can explain further to you. Again, it is not my place.”
“And my brother, Rory? You cannot share anything?”
“Forgive me, no.”
Liam glanced upward. “Do not ask for forgiveness. All will be revealed once we are rescued from this insanity.”
“Or worse,” muttered Abela. “The traitorous Fae will show their faces first, and then we’ll be doomed.”
“Do not fear, mo ghrá, they are no match for a Fenian Warrior. Even one who is chained.” Goddess help them, for they have no idea the power I will unleash against them.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I mistook the breeze as merely elemental and did not listen to the whisper of Mother Danu calling out my name.”
~Diary of Princess Abela
A kaleidoscope of images flashed within her mind. Abela tried to sort out the colorful ones from the gray pictures in an attempt to divide them into two groups. The process was overwhelming and convoluted. Each attempt proved futile and she groaned in frustration. Perchance, she should give up and float away on a faery stone. Nevertheless, peace was not attainable and only an illusion.
Sharp pain pricked her arm, along with another voice trying to reason with her. By the Gods, how was she supposed to solve the riddle?
“Abela, mo ghrá, wake.”
“No,” she protested in a cracked voice.
“Then drink.”
Cool water passed her dry lips and entered her body, soothing all the heat within. Her mind cleared, and she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs of a fragmented dream. Abela blinked in an attempt to fully open her eyes. Liam appeared in front of her in a haze. “Why is everything so hot here? Is the summer heat upon us?”
“Sweet Mother Danu, you are with fever,” complained Liam.
“The Great Goddess refuses to answer me,” she mumbled and closed her eyes.
“No,” hissed out Liam. “Open your eyes, warrior princess.”
Immediately complying, she gazed at him skeptically. “Warrior, no. Princess, yes.” Taking in their surroundings, Abela noted it was dark. “If there is no sun, why am I so hot? Please unfasten my cloak and remove the garment.”
“You are with fever and the night air is chilled.”
“Ahh…yes. You did mention the fever.” Abela rubbed a hand over her forehead and tried to settle her thoughts. “No rescue?”
“No. And I disagree. You are a magnificent warrior. Was it not you who dared to break me out of a Fae prison, and attempt to maneuver us through the Veil of Ages?”
She snorted and then coughed. “After many arguments and attempts to get the correct time-period and location through the Veil.”
“Regardless, I have been in awe of your strength and abilities,�
� countered Liam, settling her onto his lap.
She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m scared.”
He kissed her cheek tenderly. “All warriors learn early on to harness their fear. If not, it will devour them and they will die.”
“Another lesson to learn?” she asked, returning her attention to him.
“Is not life all about the lessons?”
She studied him. His eyes blazed in the twinkling starlight. “You are ever the scholar. You should consider working with the Bard of the Fae.”
“Archie McKibben? He is far better suited for the position and does not require an assistant.”
She shivered. “We need someone in the Fae realm. Most of the historians are ancient. I recall trying to procure a certain tome on ancient Scotland—” A coughing spasm wracked her body, and Abela fought to get control.
Liam brought the flask to her lips. “Take a few sips,” he encouraged.
After drinking some more water, she waved him off. “As I was saying…they moved in slow, methodical steps to obtain the information I was seeking.”
Dabbing at the corners of her mouth with part of her cloak, he asked, “Why would you want to learn about ancient Scotland?”
Abela nudged him. “I was thinking of you.”
“Contrary to what you may think, those historians are vastly superior. Yes, they are old, but their knowledge also contains insight into our homeland of Taralyn.” He kissed the top of her head. “You were determined to learn about my travels.”
“Well, no one else would tell me anything, and I disagree. You’d be perfect as one of the prestigious historians.” Abela unfastened the broach at the top of her cloak and shifted her position away from Liam. “You’re too hot, and I ache everywhere.”
“Turn completely away from me and straddle the log.”
Sighing, Abela did as Liam suggested. When the side of his hands touched her shoulders, she hissed.
“Relax,” he urged.
She nodded and permitted him to massage the knots in a rolling movement from her neck and along her shoulders. After several minutes, her body began to unwind, and she allowed Liam to continue with his ministrations.
“Lean against me and try to get some more rest.”
