He went to his window and looked out on the games below grateful he was not slotted in any events this day, for he would have been at a great disadvantage. His mind was so entirely muddled, he could scarcely think straight. His thoughts went to Alainn singing that song the night before. Never had he heard a voice so beautiful or a song that shredded his heart so entirely. And she’d looked at him with such utter and complete sadness, such despair. He was drawn to her, and taking her in his arms and consoling her seemed as natural as breathing. It always had.
If he didn’t make a move soon, she would no longer be his to hold, not lawfully, not completely. Her eyes came to him as surely as if she were there with him, and once more they seemed to plead to him. She wanted him to stop this wedding! She would never have agreed to it if his uncle had not forced it upon her. He would prevent it! He had to, for it was now or never.
He raced up the cobblestone street and past the villagers, now sure this was his destiny. She was his destiny. As he neared the abbey, he saw the priest heading down the steps. The man smiled in recognition of the chieftain’s nephew.
“Killian O’Brien, you seem in a great hurry, my son! Where are you off to, then?”
He spoke breathlessly. “The farmer’s wedding. Is it to be held soon?”
The priest’s eyes filled with understanding. “The farmer and his bride were wed nearly two hours ago now. Your uncle changed the ceremony to earlier this morning.”
The color drained instantly from Killian’s face.
“No! That cannot be!” he cried.
“Aye well, I performed the marriage ceremony myself, Killian.”
“Where are they now? Where have they gone?”
“To the farmer’s cottage, I presume.”
Killian sunk weakly onto the stone steps, his heart thundering in his chest. He dropped his head. His chest constricted and began heaving with emotion, tears pouring freely. He’d waited. He’d waited too long, and he’d lost her. He could not breathe. How would he live?
The last time he had shed tears was the day Alainn came to him as a child and convinced him life was worth living, that he should fight to survive. And he had never felt so desolate and alone again. Until now. Footsteps behind him warned that the priest had returned, but he did not care. He felt a hand on his shoulder and was certain the man had come to console him in his grievous state. But there was nothing he could say to ease his pain.
“Sure you took your sweet time, Killian O’Brien.”
She dropped to the steps beside him, tears flowing down her own cheeks as well. She pulled his head to her bosom and held him tight. His arms encircled her and breathed in her sweet feminine scent, and his heart ached from the sweetness of it.
“Sorry I am that I deceived you so cruelly,” she sobbed, “but I needed to know you would come for me.” His arms tensed around her.
“There was no wedding? The priest lied?”
“No, there was a wedding.” Killian looked up horrified. “Liam O’Hara married the miller’s daughter, Killian. They’ve been in love for a time. The priest did not lie, not in actuality. And your uncle still believes I am married to the farmer. Lady Siobhan’s father has been assigned the task of breaking the news to him.”
Killian could not speak for a long while, but pulled her onto his lap and held her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they were content just to be together. Killian thought he would never be as grateful to the Lord and to the O’Rorke as he was at this moment. When the church tower bell rang out one more time, Alainn nudged Killian.
“We must go to the burial ceremony. Lady Siobhan is expecting us both. I am uncertain why they wish to include me, but I will go. Please walk with me, Killian, for I think I shall never again release you from my arms.”
“Aye well, I don’t care to be parted from you any time soon, either, Lainna.”
As they walked toward the clearing in the forest where they’d been instructed to meet, Alainn changed course and moved deeper into the forest.
“I believe it was to be held here,” Killian suggested as she tugged on his hand.
“Aye, but the location has been changed. There is a larger oak grove deeper in the forest.”
Killian allowed her to show the way. After they had walked for some time, they came into another opening, and sure enough the family was there waiting. All seemed to wear a look of relief as they came through the trees still holding hands. Riley was the first to greet them.
“So, you finally came to your senses then, Killian, and stopped the wedding?”
“Not entirely, but something along those lines.”
Rory gave Alainn a heartfelt embrace and noticed how pale she appeared. “Are you ailing, Alainn? You look as though you are unwell.”
“I am well enough, Rory. I suppose I am in need of sleep, for I had a rather late night.”
Killian only then noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes. He squeezed her hand, knowing they’d both had a difficult day.
Lady Siobhan and her father were standing beside the shrouded figure of their beloved. Killian went to his aunt and embraced her openly, whispering a thank you in her ear as she nodded and smiled with relief. She had not been entirely confident that Killian would go to Alainn. The elderly man nodded to them as well and cleared his throat, for it was time to begin the ceremony.
They were all given long white robes to don before the ritual could start. Riley appeared displeased but put on the robe with only minimal complaints. When his grandfather began speaking in a language he could not understand, he looked toward the trees as if planning a speedy escape.
“We will be calling the quarters,” the old man declared.
Riley looked at his mother for an explanation, but she stood with her eyes closed.
Alainn whispered, “ ’Tis to create a boundary for protection and to raise energy.” He looked at her as if she were mad. When his grandfather began chanting, Riley grew increasingly disturbed. Finally, he pulled off the robe, threw it on the ground, and began walking away, cursing under his breath.
“Riley, please don’t leave!” Lady Siobhan called out, her face crumpling in distress. “This is important to me and to Father.”
“ ’Tis horse shite, Mother, and heresy!”
Alainn could not still her mouth. “Riley O’Brien! Perhaps your mother and her kin feel Christianity is horse shite! There are many questionable practices in that religion as well. To begin with, a man has supreme power in the Roman Catholic faith, some pray to the pope and not to God, and how can man be given the power to absolve sin? And besides, druidism predates Christianity by thousands of years.”
“How in hell do you know so much about druidism, Alainn? ’Tis not as though the farrier or Morag raised you in the old ways.”
“Riley,” she pleaded in a softer voice, “your mother raised you and Rory in Christianity as your father has desired. She has attended mass for both the nobles and the peasants, and seldom missed it. Can you not abide her faith and that of her people for this one time in respect of your grandmother?”
“No, Alainn, I cannot abide this heresy! It goes against the Lord’s commandments. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”
Alainn scowled. “You are somewhat selective in adhering to those commandments. I could list several that you break on a daily basis, one this very moment: honor thy father and thy mother!”
“You are overstepping your boundaries, commoner,” he spat. “I have no intention of remaining here and listening to any more of this lunacy.” He turned and walked toward the trees.
Furious, Alainn held out her hands and stopped him in his tracks.
“Who the hell are you, Alainn McCreary? What the hell are you?” he bellowed.
She stretched out her arms and looked to the west.
“I am fire!” And as she spoke the edge of the clearing to the west burst into a crackling wall of flame. “I am water!” To the south, a wave of black angry water rushed through the trees to cra
sh as if against an invisible wall and stand suspended in space and time just beyond them. “I am earth!” In the east, an enormous mound of earth rose out of the shaking ground with a deafening rumble. “I am air!” Hundreds of screaming whirlwinds shrieked through the sky to merge together in the north. They tore through the trees and hovered at the clearing, completing the circle. Riley was going nowhere.
Lady Siobhan was the first to speak in a voice that trembled.
“Father, have you ever witnessed power such as this?”
The old man’s eyes, still wide and in awe of the young girl’s abilities, swallowed and croaked, “Never, Siobhan. In all my six and a half decades, in all the councils and druid gathering I have attended, never have I even heard of such greatness. Sure she must be the one spoken of in legend.”
Riley, who could finally move again, was peering closely at the perimeter, realizing he had no hope of escape for the circle was not only unbelievable, it was clearly impenetrable. Rory shook his head but seemed to hold no fear. He smiled appreciatively at Alainn.
“I had no notion you had abilities beyond your healing and premonitions. Did you know of this, Killian?”
Killian held tight to Alainn whose arms were still stretched rigidly outward. He dared not turn to look around at his cousin but shook his head slightly as he spoke. “I’ve seen some of it, ’tis true, but never anything liken to this degree of ability.”
Niall spoke before any other questions could be issued. “Before we go on with this, I would ask that my grandsons put on the amulets you carry for them, Siobhan. Please do not attempt to argue this, Riley. You may need protection. Killian has Alainn’s amulet so he is protected. Your mother and I have our own.”
“Why does Alainn have an amulet like this?” Riley asked as his mother passed him the chain. He did not need convincing to put it around his neck, nor did his twin.
His grandfather exchanged a knowing glance with his daughter. “We will explain more after we attend to the burial service,” Siobhan said, “for Alainn will surely not be capable of holding the wall of protection for long.” Alainn slowly lowered her arms, and the wall remained intact.
The man spoke in English and ancient Celt, of his beloved wife, of all they had shared. His daughter added a few tender words of her own. Then he glanced at Alainn.
“Would you sing the dirge, Alainn? Do you know the druid requiem?”
Alainn closed her eyes, called upon a distant memory, and a clear angelic voice flowed smoothly and beautifully from her. The song was solemn and mournful, and eerily enchanting, and no one could take their eyes from her. When she was through, Niall O’Rorke held an unlit torch high in the air and nodded to Alainn. As she stared at it, the object burst into flames. He touched it to the enshrouded figure of his wife, and the woman’s body was set afire.
“That is surely not always part of a druid burial ritual,” Alainn declared in a voice filled with horror.
“No, not with all sects,” the elderly man agreed, “but so many grave robbers have desecrated the bodies of our loved ones, we have chosen to set fire to the bodies as an alternative. And since her ashes could not rest with her children who have gone before her, they shall be scattered to the wind so that they might find their way to them.”
Alainn nodded her head in understanding, but she had begun to tremble. “When I die, do not allow anyone to do that to me, under no circumstance, I ask you put no flame to me!”
He nodded approvingly. “Aye, anyone with fairy blood running through their veins has a distinct fear of fire.”
The old man spoke words in an ancient tongue and ended the ritual. Alainn said words of her own to close the circle, words that even the man and his daughter could only partially understand. Slowly the circle of the protective elements disappeared as though it had never been, leaving no trace left behind. Alainn immediately collapsed in a dead faint, Killian catching her in his arms before she hit the ground. His face a mask of fear and dread, he carefully lowered her to the grass. His aunt hurried to her side.
“What’s happened to her Father?”
“She is drained, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Such a display of power will have weakened her greatly.”
“But she is not harmed?” Killian asked, his voice stricken with deep concern as he gently stroked her hair and rubbed her arms.
“No, I believe she must rest and be kept protected, but I am confident she will soon waken,” the old man assured him.
“Protected from what?”
The man looked hesitant, as if uncertain.
“Aye, you deserve to hear the truth. Any display of power such as Alainn showed, while it created protection for the ceremony, it would have most certainly alerted supernatural entities from many realms, perhaps from the Unseelie Court. There will be some who would attempt to take her powers, others who would tempt her toward the dark side, to an evil place.”
“Christ!” Killian cursed loudly. “And how can she be protected from that?”
“You can protect her, Killian,” said his aunt, “for you have her heart. You are surely a guardian to her, and you possess her amulet.”
“Then I must return it to her!” he shouted, grabbing the leather strand and lifting.
“No!” both druids answered emphatically. Killian released the leather as if burned, and Niall continued more calmly, “Keep it where it is. She has charmed it for you, and you’d both be at risk if you remove it.”
“Grandfather, you must explain to us what you know,” Rory said. “For you’ve left much unanswered.” Riley sat away from the group, but his head tilted slightly toward them as if he could not control his curiosity.
“Aye, ’tis time we spoke aloud of our suspicions, Siobhan. All here have the right to know and a vested interest in the subject.” He looked down at the girl whose eyes remained closed. Her long dark lashes, a contrast to her pale cheeks. With those striking, brilliant blue eyes hidden, her resemblance to his long dead daughter was even more startling.
As Killian continued tenderly stroking her hair, the man noticed the shape of her ears and gasped. Though they were much smaller and feminine, they were shaped very much like his son’s. His voice was nearly choked with emotion as he said, “My daughter and I are convinced this girl is our kin.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Our kin?” Riley scoffed. “How would that be possible?”
“Allow your grandfather to speak son, it will be explained in time.”
“It is a great likelihood that she is the daughter of my son, your mother’s brother, Teige.”
“How would that be possible?” Riley demanded, hands clenched. “That would make her of noble blood, so why would she be raised as a peasant, passed off as the farrier’s daughter?”
“And why has it only been discovered now?” asked Rory.
“And if it is truth, who then is her mother?” Killian’s voice was filled with dread for he thought he knew the answer.
Niall and Siobhan looked at each other, uncertain how much to divulge, when a noise in the bushes drew all eyes to the thicket as a dark-haired woman in a shabby garment headed toward them. Lady Siobhan stiffened. Killian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, for he realized he had been correct. Rory and Riley watched intently; neither had ever seen the woman.
The Glade Witch walked to Alainn and knelt beside her. She placed her hand to the girl’s chest, and her blue eyes revealed her concern. Her long black hair swung over Alainn as she leaned over and put her ear to her daughter’s chest, while furtively laying her hand to her abdomen. She was certain Killian did not see, but Lady Siobhan breathed in sharply and her eyes grew wide.
“What is it, Mara? Why do you look so worried? What do you sense?” Killian asked.
“Mara!” Riley barked. “This is the Glade Witch? The woman who has cursed our line and caused so much tragedy for our family?” Killian nodded. “Then why in hell are you allowing her to touch Alainn?”
Killian sighed as he conti
nued to lovingly caress Alainn’s hair. “Because she is her mother.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Rory exclaimed, but he stepped closer to look at the woman, for he had been curious about her all his life. Riley was not so congenial. He withdrew his sword and began to walk toward her. Lady Siobhan and her father called out, but it was Killian who held out his hand and stopped him.
“Stay back, Riley,” he said almost wearily. “She may be the only one capable of aiding Alainn. And I am certain she can tell us much that we must learn.”
The woman continued to lay her hand near Alainn’s chest. Her expression was grave as she looked at Killian.
“I cannot rouse her. She will not waken.”
Killian grabbed her arm. “You must do something. What is wrong with her?”
“There must be a reason she is taking so long to come back. Her heart beats much too slowly. Talk to her, Killian, you are her most treasured possession and her strongest connection to this world. Tell her to come back to you, quickly, before she is unable!”
“You think she may die?” he asked in a panic. “Christ, Alainn! What the hell are you doing? Come back to me this instant! Do you hear me woman? I swear you’d best listen to me before I shake the life out of you!” With that, he began shaking her. Alainn gasped deeply, as though she’d been underwater and just come up for air.
“Killian O’Brien,” she snapped, angrily slapping at his arm as he continued to shake her. “Settle you down. I was trying to listen to Morag, and I’ve yet to hear what she was telling me. If you’d just given me another moment—”
She finally opened her eyes and saw that his arms were now shaking involuntarily. She rubbed his arms, sending through a calm warmth that stilled them. It was only then that she noticed Mara kneeling beside her. She glanced up sharply at the concerned and startled faces surrounding her.
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