by Nesa Miller
“I’m not one to sit on my ass, Swee.”
“The clan needs to see you, Dar. Something as simple as walking through the castle would give them some reassurance their chieftain gives a damn. Instead, they’re forced to go to those who are most visible, which doesn't always go well. Look at Etain's situation, stripped of her LOKI status without her knowledge simply because Savage considered her a threat to her authority.”
Dar thought about what she’d said, tapping a finger on his chin. “Savage’s passion for the clan can sometimes eclipse her better judgment, but…” His dark look vanished. “Let’s leave it for now.” He placed an arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the back garden. “In the meantime, let's enjoy the blessings given us.”
Inferno came around the corner, surprised by their sudden appearance, but smiled. “Dar, for fuck’s sake. It’s about damn time.” His congenial air faded at the sight of Swee. “What the bloody hell is she doing here?”
“She’s here as a friend, Inferno.”
“A friend, ya say?” He cocked a brow. “I won't have the day buggered up by anyone, especially not a member of yer soddin’ Council. That lass in there is walking a fine line and doesn't need another reason to bolt.”
Swee spoke up. “Inferno, I’m not here to cause trouble. Like Dar said, I’m here as a friend. Besides, I’m sure another set of hands would be a big help.”
“She has a point,” Dar agreed, raising his brows.
Inferno pointed an accusing finger at the young woman. “Two days ago, this one was looking for blood.” The same finger then jabbed Dar in the chest. “Yer blood. Now, yer two pigs in a blanket. Have ya gone daft?”
Swee opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by Dar’s shake of his head. “Inferno, things have changed.”
“In twenty-four hours? I don’t bloody see how that happens. All of ‘em were bleedin’ determined to drag ya off one way or another. Ya ask me, there’s a wolf hidin’ under that green armor.”
She stepped toward the doubtful chieftain. “Inferno, we were wrong.” She placed a hand on her chest. “I was wrong, and for that, I am so sorry.”
“A man has a right to live his life, chieftain or not,” Inferno blustered.
Swee nodded. “You’re right, and no one deserves it more than Dar.” She smiled at her friend. “It’s not easy being the voice of reason in the midst of so many-”
“Pig-headed wankers. It’s a bloody ball ache,” Inferno said.
Although taken aback by the impassioned remark, she chuckled. “A fairly accurate description.”
Inferno’s hard stare moved from the young woman to Dar, who shifted uneasily, unsure of which side of the fence the bullheaded man would choose to stand. “I can see how a little thing like ya would get carried away by a pack of snarling alley cats.” Inferno turned away in thought. Dar shook his head at the look of outrage on Swee’s face, placing a finger to his lips. “They be knee-deep in it upstairs, what with her not finding a dress.” He faced the two, decision made. “I s’pose they could use another hand. Head on inside. Won’t be hard to find ‘em. Ya can hear the gigglin’ gerties all over the blasted castle. But one step outta line, I’ll be the one to kick yer arse back to where’er ya bleedin’ came from.”
“Yes, milord,” Swee said, properly warned.
Inferno attempted to drape an arm over Dar’s shoulders but settled for a hand on his upper arm. “Lord Groom, yer spending this fine evening with me and me boys. A stag do, of sorts. There'll be no rest for the wicked tonight.” The two disappeared around the corner, leaving Swee to find her way into the castle and to the “gigglin’ gerties”.
Swee stepped into the Laugharne foyer to find everything in a bustle, faeries twittering here and there carrying this and that. A tiny one dressed in pink noticed Swee's entrance and immediately landed on her nose. Her voice, like a small chime tinkling in the wind, assailed Swee with the current disaster.
“Oíche mhaith (Good night), pretty lady. Are ye here to help? I certainly hope so. Lady Etain says there’s no proper gown to be found. Terrible it is with her to be marrying her handsome prince on the morrow.”
The faerie stopped long enough to take a small breath. “Not to worry. Our Ms. Spirit’s a clever clogs.” She looked around and lowered her voice, a hand at the side of her mouth, as though sharing a secret. “Herself offered her own weddin’ gown.” Her tinkling laugh made Swee laugh, which made the small faerie slide off her nose, but her wings fluttered to the rescue. Swee held out her hand, offering the faerie a safe place to continue her story. “Everone's busy doing alterations.”
The Alamir merely smiled as she headed up the stairs, toward the sounds of women at work.
“The ladies are doin’ a fine job. The dress ‘tis a bit short, but they’ll make it look like it was made just for her. Mná cumasacha (Talented women), they are. Have ya ever met them?” She took Swee’s silence as a no. “Oh, you must meet them. See.” The faerie pointed to the far corner of Spirit's bedroom. “There they are now. I would love to be a seamstress, but they tell me I've no the patience fer it. Can you imagine? I think I have patience aplenty. Oh, look…” She turned in another direction. “There's the ones who will make the circlet to sit on her beautiful silver locks. Maybe I could do that instead.”
A larger faerie, aglow in green, buzzed up to Swee, hands on her small hips. “Liadan, ye've no time to be gossiping with the guests. Get yerself back down the stairs and to the kitchen. It will take us all to meet this deadline.”
The pink faerie's eyes widened as she listened to her elder. Standing in Swee's palm, she curtsied to the older faerie, then turned to curtsy to her new friend. “Leithscéil (Apologies), milady. I have duties to tend to.” With a tinkling laugh, she flittered out the door.
Spirit eyed the former Council member. “It must be all right if Inferno let you in. Are you any good with a needle and thread?”
Swept into the activity around her, Swee felt a little lightheaded. “I’ve done a little sewing here and there.”
“That’s all we need.” Spirit dragged her to a table covered with fabric, spools of thread, needles, and other sewing necessities. “We’re going to have to work late to get the dress ready for tomorrow. I’m gonna take a big risk and give you the job of working on the front. Can you be trusted to do it right?” Swee’s heart beat an unsteady rhythm, feeling a warm rush sweep over her skin. “Lass? Are you all right? Can you be trusted?”
“Get her some water,” Etain ordered, stepping in and guiding the young woman to a nearby chair. “I’m supposed to be the deer in the headlights,” she laughed, accepting a glass from one of the larger faeries. “Ta.” She pushed the glass into Swee’s hand. “Drink it before you pass out.”
Feeling further disconcerted by the smiling blue eyes, Swee put the glass to her lips, taking a long sip. “I don’t understand. I thought you hated me.”
“I thought about what you said. You weren’t there when they attacked Dar. In all the excitement, I hadn’t noticed until you mentioned it.” Etain placed a comforting hand on her arm. “It took a great amount of courage and integrity to stand up to them alone, especially Savage. Thank you for believing in Dar.”
Swee’s heart slowed. Etain’s sincerity rang true. “I thought things would change once they saw him, but it only made Savage more determined. I’m sorry I let it get that far.”
“Let’s forget about it, okay? We have better things to worry about.” Etain stood and ran her hands through her hair. “Like how the heck we’re gonna get that tiny little dress to fit an Amazon.”
The women worked late into the night, altering the gown to fit Etain's taller and more curved frame. Well after midnight, the exhausted women parted company. Spirit, too tired to show Swee to her room, left the honors to Etain.
“I hope I can sleep tonight,” Etain said, standing outside Swee’s bedroom. “It’s gonna be strange not to have him by my side.”
“I bet you fall asleep the minute
your head touches the pillow. It’s been a busy day.” Swee felt the effects, too.
“Thank you for your help today, Swee. I had you all wrong.”
“I’m glad we cleared the air. I hope we can be friends.” She felt confident the bridge between them was well on its way to reparation.
“We are friends.” Etain gave her a heartfelt hug. “Sleep well. See you in the morning.”
“Night, Etain. It’s going to be beautiful.”
Upon receiving news of Dathmet’s impromptu visit to the town of Laugharne, Thamuz tossed aside all vestiges of protocol and stormed into the young man’s private chambers.
“Have you lost your mind, compromising our plans with your stalker tendencies?” At first, it appeared he spoke to an empty room. He turned toward the sound of footsteps from the direction of the en-suite. Dathmet stepped out, a bath towel around his hips, drying his face with a smaller one. He sauntered to the bed situated against the opposite wall. Thamuz blew out a heated breath. “If VonNeshta picks up as much as a whif-”
“VonNeshta is too enthralled with his future wife to notice anything else. Relax, Thamuz.” He threw the small towel onto the bed and picked up a fresh shirt. “He suspects nothing.” He turned with a nonchalant air, buttoning the shirt. “It was enlightening, seeing how he moves. To see the two of them interact with each other and other people. Neither seems to be much of a threat.”
“How many times must I remind you to not underestimate your target? VonNeshta is far and above anything, or anyone, you’ve tracked in the past. He can be every bit as deadly as your father and, in some cases, has exceeded Midir’s brutality.”
Dathmet let the bath towel drop. Thamuz caught the challenge in the black eyes and averted his gaze. “Don’t ruin my good mood, Thamuz,” he said, jamming one leg and then the other into his trousers. “Otherwise, I’ll see that you pay for your insubordination.” Hearing the zipper, Thamuz’s gaze returned to the intense young man now appropriately dressed, his crisp shirt tucked in. “Let me remind you of something you seem to have forgotten.” He crossed the room to an oversized highboy, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of dark socks. “VonNeshta hasn’t met the likes of me.”
9
New Beginnings
Happy with the way things were going downstairs, Spirit grabbed Swee. “Come with me, lass. It’s time we checked on our girl.”
They found her sitting on the side of the bath, wrapped in a towel, staring into the mirror. “What're you doing, Etain?” Spirit bustled in. “It's nigh an hour till yer to be wed and you sit here like a lost soul.”
“I-I don't know how to get ready for this.”
“Ah, lass, did you never attend a wedding?”
Etain shrugged. “Maybe, but I didn’t pay much attention.”
Spirit sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “No worries. We'll have you pretty as a picture in the blink of an eye. I have a few bits tucked away for special occasions.”
Spirit and Swee escorted the bride down the hall to Spirit’s bedroom. Amid brushes, pencils, and makeup, they set out to transform Etain into a glowing, ethereal goddess. Swee combed out her silver tresses as Spirit worked on her nails.
Etain watched the mage tame the rag-tag edges. “Spirit?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Don’t people usually rehearse before the actual wedding?”
“I suppose they do in some places, but not here.”
Etain sighed. “I don’t know what to do, or how to do it. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Don’t you worry about any of that.” Spirit patted her on the arm.
“I have another question.”
“Aye, lass.”
“Shouldn’t we have a preacher or someone to marry us? Do we even have preachers in the Alamir?”
“Of a sort.” Spirit stopped to look at the girl. “For someone who didn’t pay much attention, you have a lot of questions.”
Etain gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
Finishing the nails, she smiled. “All done. If I didn’t know better, I’d think these were the hands of a lady.”
Etain admired her handiwork. “They will be for today. Thank you, Spirit. So, tell me what ‘of a sort’ means.”
“I’ll take this one, Spirit if you don’t mind,” Swee offered.
“It’s all yours, milady. I’ll help finish getting the tangles out of this mane of hair.”
Swee caught Etain’s eyes in the mirror. “Our powers, our strengths, come from nature…earth, wind, fire, water, and the unknown. Each one ties into a part of us…body, spirit, soul, mind, and that part of us that is unknown. There are those among us who take a more spiritual approach toward being Alamir. They remind us to honor nature, to appreciate her generosity and gifts, to take nothing for granted. I’ve heard that, in the beginning, they were called by a name no one could pronounce.” Swee giggled. “Not even them. Nowadays, we simply call them priest or priestess.”
Not particularly interested in the spiritual aspects of being an Alamir, Etain accepted the explanation with only one question. “Do we have a priest or priestess?”
“Ah, lass, we want this one to last. It has to be a priestess,” Spirit said.
Etain wasn’t sure how it would make a difference, but if Inferno was happy with a priestess, that was good enough for her. “What happens after I’m all done up?”
“The two of us will go out the front doors and around to the back garden. Inferno will meet us and, when the music starts, he’ll escort you down the aisle.”
“Is he afraid I’ll run off at the last minute?” It was an honest question.
“Blessed be, lass.” Spirit laughed. “Where do you get these ideas? It’s traditional for the father of the bride to escort her down the aisle and present her into the safe hands of her groom.”
Etain looked down at her pretty nails. “Oh.”
Spirit closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ve been around me husband too long. Me mouth runs before me sense.” She wrapped her arms around the young bride, patting her on the back. “I’m sorry, lass.”
Etain’s voice was low. “I wish they were here.”
“I know it’s not the same, but we’re proud to stand in for your mum and da, love. We love you as if you were our own.”
She hugged her friend. “I’m sorry to be such a baby. You’ve been a blessing and I love you, too.”
“It’s a big day, lass. Don’t you worry about it.”
Swee wrapped her arms around the two women. “Your parents would be happy for you, Etain.”
“Thank you, Swee. I think they would love Dar as much as I do.”
“Aye, they would.” Spirit broke up the group hug. “Are you all right now?”
Etain grabbed a tissue from the dressing table and dabbed her eyes. “Aye. Let’s do this.”
Her hair brushed and braided, they added a touch of makeup, a dab of gloss to her lips, and she was ready to slip into her gown.
Spirit removed the sheet from around the dress form, revealing the revamped dress. The women gasped at its fragile beauty.
“Spirit…” Etain reached out, touching the delicate bodice. “It's stunning.”
Beautiful hand beading crisscrossed the scooped bodice of the ivory gown. Down the front, transparent silk chiffon edged with eyelet lace covered silk satin, while silk lacings drew the gown in to accentuate her curves. Placed over the cleavage were intricately hand-beaded and embroidered silk georgette angel wings. The rest of the dress carried a soft sheen that reflected the light, giving it an ethereal air.
Etain carefully stepped into the gown. Swee and Spirit lifted the delicate dress up to her shoulders. Silk chiffon sleeves gave the gown a light, angelic quality. Not to be outdone, the back of the gown, split from the shoulders to the top of her tailbone, was held together by silk lacings, exposing her muscular back.
Etain twisted and turned in front of the mirror. “How did they add the length? It was at my ankles last nigh
t.”
“That would be a secret of the faeries, love. Not even I’m privy to that information.” Spirit’s eyes sparkled. “You are a vision.”
“One more thing.” Swee placed a delicate silver circlet on the bride’s head, a perfect white pearl at its center. “There.” She stepped back, admiring Etain’s reflection. “Dar will be speechless.”
“It’ll be the first time ever.” Etain laughed, the heaviness of the earlier moment forgotten.
Swee assisted Spirit with her dress, a gown of deep purple velvet made similar to Etain's, but with a more modest neckline and enclosed back. As she ran a comb through Spirit’s hair, the fiddler started to play.
Spirit looked at Etain. “It's time, lass.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. Am I ready? After one last look in the mirror, she smiled. I am. The women made their way downstairs.
“Remember to breathe,” Swee reminded her before ducking out the kitchen door.
Etain and Spirit went in the opposite direction toward the front. Before they stepped outside, Spirit took the bride’s hand in hers and squeezed.
So far, it had been a good day. Everything was in place. The bride was dressed and ready. The food was prepared. The altar stood at the point where the front courtyard and back garden met, beneath a white canopy of fluttering canvas decorated with small white roses and baby's breath. Elegant white ribbons tied to tree limbs performed a dainty dance in the wind, and tiny white lights hugged the trunks in wait for sunset. Even the weather had cooperated by clearing out the overnight clouds and allowing the sun to shine.
As she worked her way to the front, Swee recognized most of the guests as UWS clansmen. Two large hounds, one black and one red, with white ribbons tied round their necks, tugged against the restraining hold of two men grinning like Cheshire-cats. She waved to the faeries sitting along the tree branches and witnessed the arrival of a group of elves who filled the seats near the back. Beyond the elves, she spotted a tall figure in a black cloak. Although she couldn’t see a face, she guessed it to be a man by the broad shoulders and the way he carried himself. She wondered who he could be.
