The Witch's Daughter

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  He led her to a corner of the foyer and spoke quietly.

  “Go with your aunt, Alainn. She never had a daughter and has missed out sorely. She loves you dearly and wants to assist with this.”

  “What gown does she wish for me to wear?” she asked, as Killian smiled in relief.

  “ ’Twas the garment she wore on her wedding day. I’ve not seen it, but I believe ’tis a traditional druid dress.”

  “A white dress?”

  “Aye, most certainly.”

  “But, white indicates purity and is to be worn by virtuous women. ’Tis hardly the case when I carry your child.”

  His eyes filled with unquestionable love and pride. “You were virginal when you came to me, Lianna. And I will be grateful forever you chose me to be the first and only man to share such a love. Wear the white dress, for I know it’ll suit you well.”

  “But you chose this one for me.”

  “Aye, and you wore it all evening and all night, come to it. You wore it for the proposal, so it’s served its purpose well.”

  “Have I told you how very fortunate I am to have you?” she whispered, as the priest and their aunt looked at them with some impatience, as though there may never be a wedding.

  He pushed Alainn toward his aunt, and Lady Siobhan pulled her into the room to the side of the entrance way. Mara stood in the room, smiling uncertainly.

  “Your mother was made to miss much of your life. I thought it fitting she be here to see your wed,” explained Lady Siobhan.

  Alainn nodded and attempted a smile. Her mother gently took her hand, and Alainn had to resist the urge to pull away for deep down she still felt a deep sense of betrayal toward the woman who had given her away so many years before. She attempted to calm those dismal emotions and allow only joy within her heart.

  “Be happy with your man, Alainn. Have the life your father and I were not allowed together.”

  “Aye, I’ll be happy every day that we are together.”

  Her mother wore a dress that must surely belong to Lady Siobhan, and she was pleased they no longer harbored a deep animosity for one another.

  When Lady Siobhan presented the long white gown, Alainn gasped in awe of its beauty. The soft shimmering fabric was slightly yellowed with age, which only added to the loveliness. Its boned-fitted bodice had flowing white sleeves embroidered with soft pink flowers. Many pink ribbons laced the back from nape to hollow. They helped Alainn into the treasured gown, stepped back, and sighed.

  “It fits you as though it was fashioned for you, Alainn,” her mother said.

  Lady Siobhan lightly placed her hand to Alainn’s abdomen.

  “How can you carry a child when your stomach remains so firm and your waist so slender? And your mother tells me you are past your third month.” She sent a worried glance to the dark-haired woman by her side.

  “Aye,” whispered Mara, “pray your husband and his kin accept my daughter, so that the wee babe will be without peril.”

  “Where is your husband, Lady Siobhan?” Alainn dared ask.

  “Please, you must call me, Aunt Siobhan. And you needn’t be concerned with where my husband is for he is passed out in his bedchamber.”

  “You gave him a potion?” Alainn asked in disbelief.

  “Aye, I am not without knowledge of herbs, myself. I thought you and Killian deserved a wedding without his wrathful ways lending discord to the mirth. He has caused enough trouble for the two of you.”

  Her aunt gathered two portions of hair at Alainn’s temples, braided them and tied it with a pink ribbon. Her mother then placed Molly’s flowered wreath upon her head. The two women fussed over her until Alainn was primped to their satisfaction.

  “Sure you are the loveliest girl in all of Ireland, the loveliest bride there’s ever been!” Mara gushed. “I named you most aptly for you are lovely, pure beauty, my Alainn!”

  “Your mother’s correct, but I’d say yer the loveliest girl in all the world, Alainn. Killian always has had a way of attractin’ the pretty girls, but he’s won the heart of the most beautiful lady in the land, with no doubt!”

  “The two of you make me blush with your kind flattery, biased though it may well be.”

  Alainn only then noticed the sprig that lay upon the small table by the door. She picked it up and inhaled the aromatic scent of thyme. Sure, Morag had left a sign she was happy she would wed her only love. Alainn tucked it inside the sleeve of her dress so as to have Morag with her on this special day.

  A knock was heard upon the door, and Lady Siobhan opened it. Her father peeked in and when his eyes fell upon his granddaughter, he shook his head softly.

  “Yer an enchantment, Granddaughter, a fetching, fanciful sight liken only to tales of the fairies, I should say.”

  “Well, she is from the line of fairies,” her mother said proudly.

  “And druids as well,” the man reminded the witch.

  “And she’s inherited the great beauty of both.” Lady Siobhan beamed at the girl.

  “Enough of this, you’ll drive me to tears, and I appear most dreadful when I weep!”

  “You’ve a young man waitin’ outside the door, and he’s becomin’ more nervous by the second, Alainn. Might I escort you to him?” The elderly man offered his arm.

  She gave him her hand and placed a gentle kiss upon his leathery cheek.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When they stepped through the door, Killian looked up and his green eyes filled with wonderment. Overcome with bashfulness, he thrust towards her a bouquet of lovely wildflowers tied with a plaid ribbon.

  “ ’Tis a Scottish wish of happiness from Mary,” he mumbled.

  “You look incredibly handsome,” she whispered, taking his arm. He led her to the back door of the chapel, and they stepped outside. It was a good thing he was holding her close for her legs felt suddenly weak.

  There were surely a hundred people gathered outside. Flowers were strewn all the way to where the priest stood, and in the distance, mist covered her beloved green hills as the sun rose, gold and pink, warm and promising. The music of a dozen harps and pipes filled the air with the joyous sound of a Celtic love song, and the songs from the many birds in the surrounding trees added to the magical moment.

  “I want you to remember this day as everything you would have it be,” said Killian. “And when I wed the most beautiful woman ever created, I need to declare it to more than just the priest. I want to tell the entire world of my joy and good fortune. And we are on holy land being wed by a priest, so in truth we are both getting what we desire.”

  “Aye, we are!” she whispered.

  “Walk with me, Lainna, my only love, the first steps of our life together, forever entwined.”

  “And I accused you of being unromantic, Killian. What a horrid woman, I am.”

  He laughed at that and pulled her closer. “Aye, you’re utterly horrid!” he teased. She tilted her chin to meet his eyes and breathed in sharply for she could not have appeared more beautiful or angelic. Her hair shone in the morning sunlight, and her deep blue eyes pooled with unshed tears of happiness.

  A soft breeze blew against her cheeks and played with her hair. Alainn smiled radiantly as she passed all those dear to her: Molly, Cook, Margaret and Cookson, Rory and Brigid, Riley and Mary. Alainn thought every person who had ever meant something to her in her life was surely here, all but Morag. But, the thought had barely formed itself when she momentarily gazed off toward the castle churchyard and saw the old woman’s spectral figure standing and smiling at her. A small sob escaped Alainn’s lips, and she waved lovingly to the old healer.

  The ceremony was simple and traditional, performed partially in Gaelic and Latin as was customary. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she said her vows to the man she so loved, and she noticed tears glistening in his eyes as well. He reached out and wiped her tears away with his thumb. Killian spoke his vows to her in a deep, unwavering voice and slid his mother’s ring onto her right hand as was th
e custom.

  The priest declared them wed to a cheering crowd, and when they sealed the ritual with a most passionate kiss, they roared and clapped their hands. Soon they were overtaken by the embraces of many well-wishers. Rory and Riley almost tackled her in their joint hug as though she had always been a part of their family, and Molly and Mary kissed her cheeks and cried.

  “Thanks be to the two of you, my oldest friend and my newest, for the flowers and for your friendship.”

  When they walked toward the gate in the churchyard, Alainn spied the old farrier standing there, holding the reins of Killian’s horse. He smiled as though apologizing to the young woman for their past.

  The steed’s neck was draped with a wreath of wild flowers, and his mane had been braided.

  “He’s very pretty,” Alainn complimented, and though Killian did not appear entirely in agreement that his stalwart steed had been adorned so entirely, he laughed.

  The priest ran up after them, a crowd following close behind.

  “It is customary to bless the marriage bed, have you a bed in mind?”

  Killian at that moment wanted to exclaim that any bed would do as long as it was nearby, but he answered the man civilly. “We’ll have our bed at my father’s castle blessed by the priest there, when soon we make the journey.”

  “Aye, fine then, that’ll do.”

  “But, where are you going to spend your wedding night, or day, as it were?” Rory asked.

  Killian looked at Mara, and she came forward. She spoke quietly so that only her daughter and Killian could hear, but it was Killian at whom she looked.

  “It has been arranged, they will be expecting you. You have three days, by our time, ten days in the fairy glade by my estimation. ’Tis all my limited powers could allow.”

  “We are off to the glade?” Alainn’s eyes shone happily though not without some trepidation, considering her recent conversation with Ramla and Danhoul.

  “Aye, your husband asked me if I would see to it.”

  “But, I was certain you couldn’t enter the glade, Mara...Mother.”

  The woman’s own startling blue eyes filled with tears, and she clasped her daughter tightly to her. “I called the fairies out, and as of late the Unseelie Court does not seem as interested in me, so perhaps I am mostly forgiven for my past deeds.”

  “Thank you, the both of you,” Alainn whispered.

  “Aye well, you deserve a magical honeymoon, Lainna. And we’ll make do with ten days until we can arrange the journey to our castle.”

  It was the first time Killian had referred to the castle as something other than his father’s. Finally now, he seemed ready and willing to move forward and become chieftain.

  “Time is of a different measure in the glade. Surely we don’t have ten days?” Alainn asked.

  “I’ve a feeling the sun will be overshadowed by dark clouds soon enough,” her mother answered, peering up to the sky. “The rain will set in for days and the completion of the tournament and the challenge will need to be postponed once more.”

  Alainn smiled, realizing her mother’s powers were returning.

  “But, surely your uncle will question your absence from the castle for such a lengthy time, Killian.”

  “Don’t worry about anythin’, Alainn. And no mention of him will be made for the entire time we are in the glade. Are we in agreement?”

  “Aye, in complete agreement.”

  “Don’t you fret about my husband,” Lady Siobhan said, pulling a vial from the pocket of her gown. “He’ll be occupied and rendered harmless for some time.”

  Killian lifted Alainn upon the horse and mounted behind her.

  “Be happy, the two of you!” Rory yelled as they started off.

  “And keep your man satisfied, cousin!” Riley called out to Alainn.

  “Aye, I intend to!” she laughed. His arms encircled her lovingly as the horse trotted off toward the glade. The wind caught her hair as she inhaled the fresh morning air, and she knew she had never felt such complete happiness.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When they reached the thick briars surrounding the fairy glade, Killian dismounted.

  “Animals are allowed within the glade,” she said.

  “Aye, but I intend to carry my new bride over the threshold.”

  He pulled her gently from the beast and slid her slowly down his body until she stood on her feet. Then, he lowered his lips to hers in a deep and thorough kiss that left her dizzy. Swinging her up into his arms, he stepped forward and clucked his tongue for the horse to follow.

  At the hedge, Alainn whispered the words, and Killian listened intently for future regard. Both of their amulets began to glow and warm their skin.

  “There will be more to see this time, Killian, and sure you’ll be allowed to see more. I should warn you, fairies adore brides and love, romance and weddings.”

  “I’ve heard they’ve been known to steal brides away because of their great beauty, and sure there’s never been a more beautiful bride than mine. Will you be safe?”

  “They’ll not steal me away, Killian O’Brien,” she reassured him, “for they’d be stealin’ one of their own.”

  “If you say so, Alainn O’Brien.”

  “I am at that, an O’Brien,” she mused.

  “Forever more,” he said and stepped to the portal.

  He paused. The sound of pounding horse hooves fast approached. They glanced back to see the chieftain’s captain galloping toward them.

  “The chieftain has disappeared!” he shouted. “I was keeping watch on the man, myself, so you could marry without incident. He woke in his chambers, completely enraged; I have never seen the man so unreasonably furious. He consumed more of the potions you advised against, Alainn, and I tried to calm him down, even attempted to subdue him by physical restraint. He has an unusual strength I have never witnessed before, certainly not in a man of his condition or advancing age. He threw me against the castle wall as though I were a feather and charged out of the chamber like a demon possessed.” Mac rubbed the large lump on his head and regarded the young couple with deep consternation. “I have many men searching for him, for I dinna ken where he would have gone in such a state.”

  “Aye, we are well grateful to you for that, Mac.”

  “Fare thee well then the both of you, and I give you my good wishes on your nuptials,” he said almost as an afterthought as he turned his horse back toward the castle and sped off.

  “Should we go back then?” Alainn asked quietly.

  Though his brow was furrowed with deep consideration, Killian shook his head.

  “No, ’tis our wedding day and sure we will be safer within the glade. Mac and his army will do what they can to find and contain my uncle until he returns to himself.”

  “But will your mind be with me in the glade or with the uncertainty of your uncle’s disposition and the safety of his family?”

  He opened his mouth to respond when Danhoul Calhoun came running toward them from around the nearest bend in the briar bushes.

  “You must come with me now!” he urged in a breathless voice.

  They followed him without question to a location not far from the portal. Lying upon the ground was Ramla, his garment soaked a deep red. A pool of blood covered the ground near him, and a large knife protruded from his chest. Alainn knelt beside him and noted his skin remained warm and rigidity had not yet begun to set in. When she looked more closely at the weapon, she saw it almost pulsed with an eerie greenish glow, as though it exuded wickedness.

  “A cursed blade,” Alainn whispered dishearteningly to Danhoul.

  “Aye, ’tis what I suspected as well,” Danhoul soberly agreed.

  “Who is this man?” Killian demanded, gesturing to the dead man. “And what does this musician or soldier, or whoever in hell he may be, have to do with any of this?”

  “This is Danhoul Calhoun. He possesses magical abilities, as did Ramla, this man recently killed. They were helping me i
n learning what dark forces were attempting to seek knowledge of my abilities.” Her voice held much regret as she continued to look upon the body of the large man. “Sure it was because of me Ramla was killed.”

  “Do you know who might have done this to him?”

  “I was on the other side of the glade near the alternate portal,” said Danhoul. “I thought perhaps to find another way inside. We were to meet back here, and that is when I found him like this. I saw your chieftain’s priest lurking near the edge of the stone close, earlier this day. He had the oddest look about him, and his aura was unusually dark.”

  “His aura always has been dark, even since I was a child and first able to recognize auras, but recently it has grown more sinister to be certain. I have attempted to avoid the man entirely since my return from Galway.”

  “You believe the priest murdered this man?”

  “ ’Tis a possibility,” said Danhoul.

  “Aye, the priest believes I should be put to death because of my powers. If he learned of Ramla’s supernatural abilities, he would have been spurred to end his life.”

  “And you did not think to inform me of any of this?” Killian asked, trying to contain his growing anger and trepidation.

  “I thought we had quite sufficient quandaries to confront.”

  “You may be safest within the fairy glade,” Danhoul suggested.

  “But what of your safety, Danhoul? If Ramla’s life was ended simply because he was enlisted to assist me, then your life is endangered as well.”

  “Someone must search for the killer.”

  “And do you not believe yourself to be in danger?” Killian asked.

  “In truth, I have faced danger and uncertainty much of my life. I will not be dissuaded because danger is a possibility.”

  Killian looked at Alainn with resignation, and she feared what he was about to say.

  “I must help the man, my love, for sure you are both in peril because of the supernatural abilities you possess. And your mother must be warned, as well.”

  “What is it you suggest we do, then?”

  “Perhaps if you go to the glade, surely the fairies and benevolent creatures within will see to your safety.”