Faeleahn

by Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  “We’re going to have to come back in the autumn, Cade,” I stated when we reached the Dagda’s abode once again.

  “Oh?” he asked, helping me out of the coat and scarf.

  I nodded. “I want to try all the fruit they’ll be harvesting.”

  “A wonderful idea!” the Dagda crowed. “We can make soul cakes!”

  “Soul cakes?” I repeated.

  For some reason, an image of the Morrigan sacrificing a young woman and fusing her soul with a birthday cake slathered in pink frosting popped into my head. I shuddered. Perhaps I shouldn’t have added so much sugar to my oatmeal this morning.

  “They are a traditional cake made from the leftover dried fruit and nuts after the harvest,” Cade explained, for my benefit. “And on Samhain and the Winter Solstice, it is customary to leave some out for the souls that have not yet crossed over into the afterlife.”

  So, my bizarre hallucination wasn’t so far-fetched after all.

  “But,” I argued, “the Faelorehn are immortal.” At Cade’s confounded look, I waved my hand around and said, “I mean, I know they can die. You don’t have to tell me that, but I would think that would put a pretty sizeable cap on the death rate around here.”

  “Maybe now, in more modern times, but a thousand years ago, we were still a pretty violent people. Just look at the tales and sagas the mortals of your world recorded. Many of their ancient wars and conflicts were a direct result of our interfering with their world. We may be immortal, but like you said, we can still die.”

  “So, what time were you thinking of leaving tomorrow, Dagda?” Cade asked, moving the conversation along and onto a less gruesome subject.

  “I’d like to be on the road by midday, but no sooner,” the Dagda conceded. “I don’t like to rise too early.”

  I had to laugh at that. The Dagda was definitely a night owl.

  For the rest of the afternoon, we lounged around in the room adjoining the grand entrance hall. It was the same apartment the Dagda often used as the indoor gathering place for his famous parties, but today it was empty of people. A few skylights, round windows set high into the hillside, wept grey light upon us as we perused old books or battled it out in board and card games. The rain continued to pummel the world outside, but inside the hill we had warm blankets, a roaring fire and an endless supply of hot tea and honey. None of the women were around, and I wondered if maybe they had retreated to the other hills nearby, or if they were simply off in some of the many rooms of the Dagda’s house, giving us our time together.

  Dinner that evening was a less grand affair than the night before, and it was not followed by music and dancing. It turns out, even the fun-loving Dagda needed a break from the constant revelry every now and again. Instead, we returned to the great room, and Cade’s foster father entertained us with tales from his foster son’s youth.

  “I remember on one occasion, when Cade was no older than ten or eleven, he insisted on having a wolf for a pet.”

  So far, the tales had been accounts of Cade doing silly things like playing in mud puddles or rolling down the Dagda’s hill and scratching up his arms and legs. By the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, however, I could tell this particular story would be far more interesting than the others.

  “So, what did you say to that?” I pressed when the Dagda failed to continue with his recollection. “Did you tell him wolves didn’t make good pets?”

  “Oh, no! I told him what any sensible Faelorehn foster father would.”

  I blinked, then darted my eyes between him and Cade. The latter, who was seated across from me in a large stuffed chair, looked as relaxed as a lion. He had his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and he was stretched out like a throw blanket cast carelessly aside. If not for the firelight reflecting off of his eyes, I might have thought him asleep.

  “I told him,” the Dagda continued, gesturing animatedly with his massive arms, “that if he wanted a wolf for a pet, he’d have to get it himself.”

  My mouth dropped open. I tried to imagine Bradley or Logan whining to Mom or Dad about getting an entirely inappropriate pet. Mom would sit them down, give them her no-nonsense look, and explain, in great detail, why whatever it was they wanted would not be joining the Elam family. They would then shuffle away and sulk until they got distracted by something else. If it had been Dad they appealed to, they would have been greeted with a stern and final ‘NO’. Never, in a million years, would my parents tell my brothers that if they wanted a pet, they could have it if they went out and got it themselves. First of all, that was highly dangerous, considering the types of things Logan and Bradley found cute and cuddly, and secondly, they might actually succeed in securing whatever poisonous, vicious animal they hoped to bring home.

  Shaking my head to dispel my mind of those thoughts, I said, “Sorry? You told him what?”

  The Dagda gave me a look as if I might be daft. “If he wanted a wolf, he would have to go out into the wild and get it himself.”

  “Are you crazy?!”

  “You’re just wondering about that now?” Cade asked, his voice low but tainted with amusement.

  I crossed my arms and shot him a terse look. He only grinned at me.

  “Well, would you like to hear the rest of the story or not?” his foster father demanded, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

  “Yes, do go on,” I said, picking up my cup of tea and taking a sip.

  “The very next day, I found him standing in the grand entrance hall,” the Dagda waved a hand toward the cavernous, adjacent room as if this had just happened yesterday, “a pack with a few days’ supply of food and clothes, as well as a sleeping blanket and various weapons.

  “He told me he was going to get his wolf pup, and he’d be back in two or three days. I stood in the doorway and watched him disappear down the road that leads out of the hills.”

  “What?! You let him go! Dagda, he could have been killed!”

  I was horrified. He’d let an eleven-year-old boy go hunting for wolves on his own? I glanced over at Cade, my eyes huge. All he did was gaze back at me with that same, calm look. The Dagda started talking again, so I snapped my attention back in his direction.

  “He ended up staying away for four days. And no, I wasn’t worried about him,” he added quickly after hearing my sharp intake of breath. “He was the child of Cuchulainn and the Morrigan. I knew what he was made of. One of the men in my guard who was on watch duty that day ran ahead of him, telling me he was on his way home. Just as I had done on the day he left, I stood in the doorway, waiting patiently for him to arrive. He was dirty, his hair a mess and he had a sizeable collection of abrasions and bruises on his exposed skin, but his glamour burned brighter than ever.”

  The Dagda paused and glanced away from me and Cade. His eyes went to some distant place, perhaps to that moment in the past when Cade was still a young boy and clearly some grand lesson had been learned. I wanted to know what that lesson was.

  “Did he find his wolf?” I pressed, careful not to look at Cade.

  The Dagda smiled, the kind of smile a father wears when he discovers his son has become an even better man than himself.

  “Aye, he did.”

  “But I did not bring it home,” Cade said quietly, stepping into the conversation and picking up where the Dagda had stopped. “I tracked a female for two days to her den, then waited for her and her mate to leave to hunt. I crept up to the edge of the small cave and counted five beautiful pups, just old enough to be separated from their mother. I couldn’t decide which one I wanted, so I watched them for a long while. I must have lost track of the time, because I suddenly became aware of two pairs of eyes on my back. The parents had returned with two large wild hares. For several moments, we simply stared at one another, the wolf pair and I.

  “I called upon my glamour as soon as the male moved forward, his teeth bared. When he sensed my magic, he backed off, whining as if I had stung him. I drew more fiercely upon my glamour, terrifie
d these wolves would kill me, and I wouldn’t get my pup. At some point, I delved deeper, unlocking the cage that kept my riastrad in check. I would use my battle fury if I had to.

  “The adult wolves paced back and forth several feet in front of me, whining and flattening their ears to their skulls if they got too close. Not wanting to lose my chance, I reached into the den and grabbed the first pup my hands brushed against. I tucked the wolf under my arm and ran, keeping my glamour bright and strong. I managed to run half a mile before I slowed down to a swift walking pace. When I found the trail I had followed into the woods, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had managed to escape with my wolf pup.

  “It wasn’t until I had reached the edge of the woods that I noticed her, the pup’s mother, following me at a safe distance. Annoyed that she hadn’t stayed behind, I whirled around to face her, the puppy still clutched tightly in my arms. I was ready to unleash my glamour and get rid of her for good, but then I looked her in the eye, truly looked at her, and that’s when I saw the sorrow and fear there. Not for herself, but for her pup. She loved her child so much she had left the others behind to come after me, even knowing I might kill her.”

  Cade had so captivated me with his story that I sat frozen, my lips parted, my eyes fixed entirely on him. My ears were buzzing now with the strange silence that filled the room, the crackle of the fire and the light patter of rain hitting the dark skylights above the only sounds I could detect.

  Eventually, Cade drew in a breath and started speaking once more. “I could have easily hated that wolf pup for having what I didn’t have: a mother who loved it. For a fraction of a heartbeat, I teetered on that dangerous edge. I might have kept on going, ignoring the female wolf behind me. I could have shifted into my riastrad form and killed her, showing her I was the more powerful creature, and if I wanted something, I would take it. But I didn’t do either of those things.”

  “Instead,” the Dagda cut in gently, his voice as soft and soothing as the whispering flames dancing in the fireplace, “he chose to give up his prize. Not because he understood what it was like to have a mother who loved him so much she would suffer pain and possible death to get him back, but because he knew what it was like not to have that.”

  Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my heart overwhelmed by this new revelation. There was still so much I didn’t know about Cade, and although I was willing to admit a lot of it probably wasn’t pleasant - he had been the Morrigan’s slave for who knows how many centuries, after all - there was so much more that was entirely good. I only hoped my heart could handle it.

  “And that, my dear boy,” the Dagda continued in that same reverent voice, his eyes shining with emotion, “is why you have earned, and why you deserve, Meghan’s love and devotion.”

  Cade smiled, his own eyes a bit on the bright side, and said gruffly, “Well played, Dagda. Well played.”

  His foster father gave him a knowing look with a grin to match, and although I didn’t quite understand what had just passed between them, I realized a conversation had occurred earlier and this was only another faction of it. No matter. Deciding it was probably best I not know all the details, I looked back over at Cade.

  He opened up his arms, and I didn’t need an explanation to know he wanted me to join him on his large chair. It was a natural instinct for me now, moving toward Cade when he needed me. I stood up and walked over to him, nestling up against his body so he could drape his arm around me. I pressed my ear to his chest, just above his heart and closed my eyes. I could feel him lean his head against the top of mine. My glamour was wide awake tonight, and I sighed as it unfurled its wings and reached out for Cade’s. I knew the instant his power brushed against mine, the edges mingling together like pools of red and blue watercolors combining to make violet. I didn’t think it was possible, but a wave of intense happiness, stronger than the one already coursing through my blood, flooded my heart.

  I think we nodded off for a while after that, because the next time I was aware of my surroundings, the fire had dwindled down to coals, and there was a well-worn patchwork quilt draped over us. The Dagda no longer sat on the couch opposite our chair, and from the way Cade was breathing, I knew he was fast asleep. I could wake him up, and we could make the arduous trip up to our bedroom, but I really didn’t want to move. I could already feel fresh waves of exhaustion washing over me again.

  Yawning, I snuggled closer to Cade and let my eyelids drift shut. In my mind, I secretly thanked the Dagda for his story about Cade and the wolf, knowing that retelling the tale in front of me was more for Cade’s benefit than mine.

  You will always be worthy of my love, I sent using shil-sciar, knowing Cade wouldn’t hear me. To my surprise, his glamour pulsed a brilliant blue-white, then settled down once again to rest beside my own.

  Chapter Five

  Erintara

  MEGHAN

  When I woke the second time, I found myself lying beneath the warm sheets of the upstairs bedroom Cade and I shared. The sun filtered in through the windows, the angle of light indicating it was late morning. Remembering what the Dagda had said about leaving for Erintara just after noon, I shot up in a panic, wondering just how late it was.

  I was just about to bolt out of bed and start throwing on clothes when Cade stepped from the bathroom, fully dressed with his hair still damp. He cast me a curious look, and I asked, “What time is it?”

  He smiled. “Around eleven. I thought I’d let you sleep for a while longer before waking you.”

  Cade crossed the room and came to rest on the edge of the bed, leaning in to give me a kiss. He smelled of the lavender and sage soap the Dagda’s housekeepers kept in stock, and his damp hair left water stains on my night shirt. Wait a second ... If I had fallen asleep in the chair with my day clothes, what was I wearing now? I edged away from him at the same moment he tried to move in closer to me. I pulled the fabric of the shirt away from my body and then shot Cade a mildly perturbed look.

  “What happened to my clothes?”

  He gave me a devilish grin and tried to kiss me again. I resisted, just barely, by pressing my hand against his chest.

  “What?” he asked, his tone all innocence. “You don’t trust me to get you into the proper attire for bed?”

  What he considered ‘proper attire’ was one of his old shirts, the material so worn and threadbare it might as well be translucent.

  “Why bother at all, then?” I countered, crossing my arms and arching an eyebrow at him. There. Come up with a gentlemanly response to that.

  Cade sighed and drew back, realizing I wasn’t going to give in to his charms until he answered my questions.

  “Because,” he said carefully, “we are not at home in Luathara, and more importantly,” he grinned again, an emerald spark returning to his eyes. He leaned in close and grazed his teeth along the edge of my earlobe.

  I hissed in a breath and felt my nerves sizzle.

  “Because,” he whispered softly, his voice going deep, “I love the way you look in my shirt.”

  He moved then, too quick and agile for me to evade him, and ran his fingers through my hair as he pressed me into the mattress. I should have protested. The Dagda wanted us all on the road in an hour, and I still had to shower and pack, but I gave in to Cade’s deep kisses and murmured Faelorehn words.

  “Mohr faelorah, mohr faeleahn,” he crooned, as his lips moved down my neck.

  The unfamiliar word yanked me away from his overwhelming attention, and I came down from that cloud I’d been floating on.

  “Faeleahn?” I managed, moving into a sitting position and out of his embrace.

  Cade, who had apparently been more invested in the direction our actions were headed than I was, struggled to join me. Or maybe he just didn’t want to stop. Nevertheless, he fell back against the pillows and let out a long sigh. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was pouting.

  “I know the term faelorah, but not faeleahn,” I prompted, stretching out so that I
lie next to him.

  Cade turned his head and regarded me with gentle eyes. “It means something close to your term for ‘soul mate’ or ‘eternal lover’.”

  I propped my elbow against a pillow so I could get a better look at him.

  “Why haven’t you told me about it before?” I wondered aloud.

  This time, the look Cade leveled on me was enough to knock the air from my lungs. “Because I have never felt this close to you before, mohr faeleahn, and it isn’t a term to be ascribed to another lightly.”

  My heart swelled at that, so I leaned in even closer, studying his face. Every time I looked at Cade, I came away astounded at how beautiful he was. I trailed an index finger down the bridge of his straight nose and over his well-formed lips, then brought both hands up to cup his jaw line.

  “Can I call you faeleahn?” I wanted to know.

  Cade nodded, his eyes drifting shut as he turned his head into one of my hands, breathing in deeply as he kissed my palm.

  “Well, mohr faeleahn,” I tried the endearment out and found that I liked it, “as much as I regret to say it, I fear I must get out of bed and start preparing for our journey to my mother’s castle.”

  After that, Cade behaved himself and didn’t try to distract me as I went about getting ready for the final stop in our journey. By some miracle of the Celtic gods, we were clean, dressed and packed five minutes before midday.

  “You two will have to eat on the road,” the Dagda scoffed, eyeing the both of us when we met him out in the large space between the hills.

  He was already dressed for travel, along with ten members of his guard, and the horses were saddled and antsy to get moving. Someone had also taken the time to ready Lasair and Speirling, and the two of them were giving us accusing glares. I felt myself blush a little when I realized the entire retinue was studying both Cade and myself with a touch of humor on their faces.

  I tried not to grind my molars together or think about what they imagined had taken Cade and me so long to get ready. Why was it that every time I visited the Dagda’s, I ended up embarrassing myself?