If so, at least then she could tell her family where she was, and that Fionn MacCumhaill had something to do with these valleys hidden within time and space. That would give Fáelán and his daughter something to go on when it came to her rescue.
Meredith bit at her thumbnail as she watched the half-fae princess. Boann paced slowly around Mahon Falls, her hands outstretched, and her brow creased in deep concentration. Her eyes had taken on an unearthly neon glow. Every now and then, Boann would close her glacier-blue eyes and tilt her head as if attempting to eavesdrop on a conversation happening nearby.
Her mother quietly moved to stand beside Meredith. “Are you all right, Mom?” she whispered.
Sighing, her mom nodded. “I’m worried, but hopeful. We’re extremely fortunate to have Boann as an in-law,” she whispered back.
Fáelán paced around the pool at the bottom of the falls, a constant ball of energy in motion. Her sister’s husband was always like that, even when there was no crisis at hand. How did Regan handle living with such a restless man?
“I cannot identify the weaver of this fae magic, for ’tis unknown to me and tangled with druidic spells as well,” Boann finally broke the silence. “’Tis ancient. That I can tell with certainty.”
“Can you get through the magic?” Meredith asked, as her mother gripped her arm.
“Nay. Only the individual who wove the spell can do that.”
“Is there naught ye can do?” Fáelán asked. “What can ye tell us of the magic? What is its purpose?”
Boann arched a brow at her father. “One thing at a time, Athair. The magic hides the land within its confines, a place hidden within the tapestry of time and space. The hidden lands are populated, and Grayce is there. She is safe and well. That much I can say.” Boann glanced at her and her mother. “As I’m sure you two can also sense.”
“Yes.” Her mother nodded. “Safe but trapped.”
“Aye, she cannot leave.” Boann’s eyes went back to normal, or as normal as a half-fae princess’s eyes can be. “As far as doing aught, I shall return to my home in Tir na nÓg. In the fae realm, I’m more likely to discover who wove the magic. This valley was hidden many of your centuries in the past. Much has happened during that span of time, and we fae are not immortal as some might think. In a battle fought with fae weaponry, we die as easily as you humans. If the weaver of this spell no longer exists, I don’t know what can be done. I’m reluctant to speak of this to those who might be able to intercede.”
“Because you are forbidden from interfering in the lives of mortals?” Meredith bit her lip, her gut roiling.
“Aye. I risk being banned from the earthly realm should my grandsire or our council find out what I’m up to.”
“But … but this is faerie magic,” her mother cried. “Surely King Lir would be willing to allow you to help, or at least grant you permission to find a way to retrieve Grayce. It’s not my daughter’s fault she stepped into a trap. Since the magic was cast by the fae, it’s only fair that the fae make this right and return Grayce to us.”
“Angela, the Tuatha dé Danann are not bound by our notions of what is fair or just,” Fáelán warned.
“What my father says is true.” Boann clasped her hands together before her. “You have my promise that I will do what I can, but ’twill take time, and I must be discreet.”
She knew from talking to her brother-in-law that the Tuatha saw and measured time differently than humans. A year to the fae might be a century to humans, or it might be no more than the blink of an eye. The matter of time was entirely at the whim of the fae. “Human time, or fae time?” Meredith asked.
“That I cannot say until I begin my search. The energy imprint of the fae magic is not familiar to me. The boundary is weakening, fraying where fae magic and druidic spells combine. I shall endeavor to isolate a strand of the fae portion, and then I’ll know what energy pattern to search for once I’m in Summerland.”
“Fraying?” Fáelán’s brow lowered. “Does that mean the issue might resolve itself? Might the magic disintegrate on its own, allowing Grayce to return soon?”
Boann drew in a breath and closed her eyes, once again appearing to listen to something only she could hear. “Perhaps.”
Meredith stared at the spot where her twin disappeared, trying like hell to penetrate the magic and see into the world where her sister was trapped. “I don’t suppose there’s a way to predict how much time that might take, is there?”
“None that I am willing to employ.” Boann gazed around the area intently. “But ’tis unlikely to occur within a mortal’s natural lifespan.”
“What about sending me back in time, so I can prevent my sister from reaching the falls in the first place?”
“That I will not do. There would be no way to prevent my grandsire from recognizing the ripple of energy my actions would cause.” Her expression solemn, she surveyed the three of them. “I suggest you return home.”
“Will you not join us for supper, Boann?” Fáelán put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “You know Conan adores you, and Regan and I don’t see you nearly as oft as we’d like.”
“Aye, I’ll join for supper, and then I’ll begin the search.” She smiled. “I don’t see all of you nearly as oft as I’d like either, Athair.”
“Thank you,” her mother said. “We know we’re asking a lot of you, and we all understand the risk you’re taking on our behalf.”
“You are kin to me through my father. I will always do what I can for kin.”
“Grayce is well,” Meredith said as she followed everyone else to the trail leading to the parking lot. “That’s the important thing to remember. She’s safe for now.” Still, a niggling unease worked on her nerves. What that unease meant, she had no way of knowing.
Chapter Four
* * *
Sweat trickled down Brian’s temples and the back of his neck. His breathing had long ago settled into the steady rhythm of a blacksmith’s bellows. The late afternoon sun warmed his skin, while the air was crisp and cool, his favorite kind of weather. All things considered, he was pleased with how well he’d managed the test of endurance thus far. Fatigue had just begun to creep into his muscles, but not overly so.
He’d stayed well behind the other runners, pacing himself and shaking his head as a few of the men shoved and tripped one another in their efforts to finish in the top three. His friend Ciaran had twisted his knee so badly in a fall that he’d been forced to quit. Aiden’s doing. If Brian became chieftain, he’d put an end to that kind of treachery. No man should have to stop because a clansman caused him to be injured by foul means.
Coming around the bend into the last stretch, Brian lengthened his stride and increased his speed. One by one he left his competitors behind, grinning and waving as they cursed him soundly. Now, only one man remained in front, and Brian would soon overtake him.
Aiden spared Brian a brief glance. “I trust … there are no hard feelings about your bath this morning. ’Tis … all part of the tournament. No … harm done.” He smirked. Aiden’s face had turned blotchy and red. He was sweating profusely, and his breathing was so labored he could scarcely get the words out.
“Not at all,” Brian replied. “’Twas quite refreshing, and the dampness kept me cool for hours.” He ran alongside Aiden, mostly to taunt him. It was unlikely his nemesis had the strength left to do much more than place one foot in front of the other, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances and remained out of his rival’s reach. “I trust there will be no hard feelings on your part either.”
“What?” Aiden scowled.
“I’m going to win, Aiden, and I’ve no need to stoop so low as to shove or trip you on my way to the finish line.” Brian surged past him, and a deep sense of satisfaction propelled him onward.
“Feck,” Aiden cursed behind him.
Brian swiped the sweat from his brow. He would triumph over Aiden, and in doing so, he’d avenge his family’s good name. When a
man won by fair means, he earned respect, and respect was essential to good leadership. Unfortunately, Aiden had never grasped the concept of fairness, or respect for that matter. That lack, along with his temper, would be Aiden’s downfall, and Brian intended to exploit both.
“Ye wasted too much effort cheating your way to the front,” Brian called out, widening the gap between them. “Now you’re spent, and the rest of the lads are hard upon your heels.” He risked a glance over his shoulder. Two runners were gaining on Aiden. Like him, they’d kept a reserve of strength for the last leg and were now putting that energy to good use. Dylan and James, Brian counted both as his friends. They were good, honest men, and he trusted them.
Turning back to his own efforts, he focused on staying in the lead. Let the others battle it out over second and third place. He meant to win.
A picture formed in his mind, images from earlier that day when Grayce attempted to hide among those who’d come to see them off. Clearly she hadn’t wanted him to discover she’d come after all. He grinned, remembering how she’d shouted at him to watch where he was going. Would she be waiting at the finish line? He hoped so. After supper he’d gift her with the shoes he’d made for her.
The end came into sight, and a throng had gathered there. By the goddess, he’d sleep well this night, and he’d ache tomorrow. As he grew closer he searched for Grayce. His mother waved, a bright smile upon her face. His father stood with his arm around Brianna’s shoulders, his chest puffed with pride. A few folks shifted, and there she was. In an instant, Grayce’s attention fixed upon him, and his thumping heart soared.
Her mouth opened slightly, and her eyes widened in alarm the same instant he heard footsteps growing closer. Brian reached deep within himself and put forth a final burst of speed, hearing a muffled curse close behind him. Too close. He hit the twine held between the two druids, and then he leaned over and drew in long draughts of air as he looked to see who came in behind him.
“Dylan,” Brian eked out, the sweat from his face dripping to the ground. “Well done.”
“I almost had ye,” Dylan rasped, his gaze drifting to Grayce. “Next round.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Brian couldn’t help the sudden wave of possessiveness coursing through him.
Aiden glared at him, his eyes filled with rage as he crossed the line and took third place
“Come now, don’t sulk,” Brian chided. “Ye were fairly bested.” He gazed back toward the trail as the rest of the runners straggled in. “Ah, here comes Donald at the end. Limping, I see. You’re handiwork, Aiden? Your ma must be so proud.”
Growling, Aiden lunged for him, his fist raised. Brian swiveled aside just as Aiden swung. The fool lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees. Several bystanders sniggered. Aiden’s mother and Rebecca hurried to his side to help him up. Aiden batted their hands away, pushed himself up and shoved his way through the onlookers as friends and neighbors surrounded Brian, offering their congratulations.
Someone thrust a soft piece of linen at him, and he turned to see who. His slowing pulse went back to racing as his eyes met Grayce’s. “My thanks,” he said, taking the cloth from her. Their hands touched, and a thrill arced through him from head to toe. She’d come after all, and she’d witnessed his triumph.
“Congratulations,” Grayce said, studying him intently. “You must be exhausted.”
He used the linen to wipe the sweat from his face, the back of his neck and his chest. “Somewhat, aye. Hungry as well.” His neighbors moved on to the other runners, and Ceann Carraig approached.
“Well done, MacSloan. Well done.” The druid beamed. “Here’s your token.” He handed him a wooden medallion with a Celtic knot and the numeral one carved into the surface. “Tomorrow at half noon we’ll begin the longsword tournament,” he announced to everyone present.
Nodding, Brian draped the linen around his neck and accepted his prize. The druid moved on to Dylan to award him his second-place medallion.
“May I see?”
“You may.” Brian placed the small disc of sacred oak into Grayce’s hand. “Keep it safe for me, aye?”
“Why? Are you in the habit of losing things?” She peered at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.
“Nay, as a reminder of how seriously I take what may come of my efforts.” He kept her hand between his for a moment, and stared deeply into her lovely eyes. He lost himself in their depths as her cheeks blossomed in an enchanting shade of pink. Triumph of another sort heated his blood. “At the end of the tournament, each man’s medallions will be tallied to determine our overall rank.”
“Well done, my lad.” His father gripped Brian’s forearm and tugged him in for a brief hug and a slap on the back.
“We heated water for you in your cottage and filled your tub. Go bathe, Brian,” his mother commanded. “Supper will be on the table by the time you join us.”
“Thank you.” He gestured for his parents to precede him along the path so he could walk alongside Grayce. “After supper, might I have a moment or two of your time?”
“Why not?” She shrugged, slipped his medallion into the pocket of her shift, and surveyed the people still milling about.
Try as she might, she didn’t fool him. Grayce was not as indifferent to him as she would have him believe. He couldn’t keep from grinning. “How was your day?”
“Busy. Your mother taught me how to card wool, and a few of her friends joined us. Tomorrow she’s going to teach me how to spin yarn.” She sighed. “My arms and shoulders ache. I had no idea how much effort went into brushing wool.”
“What of your scrapes? Did your injuries not cause ye discomfort?” Frowning, he reached for her hand and examined her palm, running the tip of his finger over her healing skin. She didn’t pull away as he expected, but instead she moved closer.
He inhaled, taking in her scent. She’d used the soap his mother made. The pleasing combination of rosemary and mint smelled sweetly familiar. His mother’s soap evoked memories of his happy boyhood and home, but now the scent mingled with Grayce’s own unique essence. Longing to draw her into his arms weakened his already exhausted knees.
“My scrapes are much better today. Brianna wrapped my hands in strips of linen, and that helped.”
“Ah.” As they walked, he held her open hand against his, finger to finger, thumb to thumb, comparing their sizes. “You’re a wee thing, ye are, Grayce of the Blue Hair.”
“Not really, Brian of the Long Legs.” She snorted. “You do understand my hair is not really blue, right?”
“Aye. I can see your true color there, at the roots.” He studied the crown of her head. “’Tis like honey and sun-ripened wheat combined.” Ever so cautiously, he clasped her hand in his and held his breath, waiting to see how she’d react.
Grayce scanned the horizon. “Looks like we might have rain soon.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t pull away, and a tender kind of protectiveness welled within him. She’d been brought to their valleys against her will, and all was lost to her of her previous life. He’d do everything in his power to make her happy. “The sword tournament will begin tomorrow, and the outcome will take three or four days as each of us must face all contenders.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. We’ll be paired off over and over until only two remain.” Though Grayce allowed him to keep her hand in his, she stubbornly refused to look his way. He stifled the urge to laugh. To be sure, she’d misinterpret the reason if he did. Her reluctance to admit that her attraction and feelings for him were already growing amused him.
Did she not realize his attraction and feelings for her were growing as well? In this they were equally vulnerable. Perhaps she was shy and modest, which only added to her appeal. Truth be told, he found everything about her enticing.
“Since you can’t cause each other serious harm, how is the winner determined?”
“Be it but a scratch, the first to draw blood is the winner.”
She
gasped. “That’s risky. Someone could easily do real damage without meaning to.”
“Is there anything worth doing that does not carry risk?” They’d reached the path leading to his parents’ cottage and he stopped. The smell of roasting meat brought on a sharp pang of hunger, and his mouth watered. “Do not worry, Grayce.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She gazed toward the cottage, her hand still in his. “I’m going to worry no matter what. I don’t want you or anyone else to be injured. I find the entire concept of competing for the right to court entirely ludicrous.” She glanced at him through her lashes. “As I said before, I refuse to participate.”
“The outcome governs those of us who do take part, whether ye agree or not.”
Her brow creased. “What do you mean?”
“Within our society, only the lads who finish in the top four will be allowed to approach ye or Rebecca with the intent of winning your affection.”
“Then you shouldn’t be holding my hand right now, should you?” She slipped hers from him. “The stupid contest has just begun. Not until it’s finished will either of us know whether or not you’re worthy. Like I said before, these he-man Olympics are ridiculous.”
His gut tightened. She was correct, and he needed to be careful lest he forfeit the right to even compete for the chance of winning her as his wife. A shiver of apprehension racked him, and he scanned the area. He ought not touch Grayce at all. He wouldn’t put it past Aiden and his mother to accuse him of seducing her before the tournament had barely gotten underway.
His jaw clenched, Brian rubbed the back of his neck. “Ye have it aright, and I apologize. I should not hold your hand.”
Was he so arrogant he’d already assumed his place within the top contenders? Her words had rattled him, and clearly, he’d needed to be reminded. Nothing was certain. He shook his head and sighed. “I must go and bathe.” With that he left her standing where she was.
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