by A. E. Lowan
“And yet Edaine chose the least of Dagda’s sons to be her love.” Midir stayed quiet for a moment, lost in thought, his gaze turned toward the window overlooking the city. Finally, he spoke again. “It wasn’t until your father died in battle and she chose to fade to mist and memory rather than live without him, that I knew she really did love him.” He turned back to Cian. “Foolish and excessively dramatic, but still love.”
Cian swallowed. He had to keep Midir talking. “You must all have been disappointed when she chose him.”
Midir’s smile turned bitter. “My brothers were certainly disappointed, but more significantly in regards to Eoin’s fate they were angry. I would not be at all surprised to discover that one or more of them were behind his death.”
Cian drew in a small gasp. “But, they were his brothers!”
Midir gave a graceful shrug. “Sidhe politics are a bloody affair, my boy. Anluan may have raised you by hand, swaddled in silk and poetry, but outside his shelter – or more accurately his blinders – we fight and gouge for every scrap we can get. We are simply very elegant as we go about it.”
“But why would they want to kill him? She fell in love with him.”
“Spite, maybe. Or the right opportunity emerged. Murder the husband and then comfort the widow is a classic, you know. But, no, that wasn’t all there was to it. Your parents were together for decades before Eoin was slain. I would wager he was murdered because of you.”
A wash of dread went through Cian that had nothing to do with his confinement. “Me?”
Midir’s smile twisted with the same sadism that Cian remembered from his rape so many years before. It made his blood chill. “Children are precious to us. We live such long lives and produce very few offspring. Some of us never have children of our own.” Pain flashed across his face. “And some of us lose them. So when Edaine bore you, she suddenly became even more desirable than she was before, and there was talk that her fertility was wasted on Eoin. He died soon after.”
Cian’s breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. It was his fault? His parents had died because of him? But he looked back to Midir and again saw that smile. This time anger kindled in his belly, burning back the guilt and some of the fear. His hands dropped to his sides and balled into fists. “What did you have to do with it?”
The smile turned bitter again. “I had nothing to do with it. I did not court Edaine.”
“Why not?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. But, as frightened as he was this was a side of the story he had never heard before.
Midir stepped away, looking like he was trying to decide something as he gazed out the window. When he turned back he looked serious. Sad. “I could not love her.”
Cian tilted his head. “I don’t understand. How did you know that?”
Midir sat in the chair across from Cian’s. “That will take some explaining. I want you to understand some things.”
That surprised Cian. “Why?”
“Because I made mistakes with Senán that I do not want to make with you.”
The quivering in Cian’s belly travelled up into his chest. What did that mean? Eyes wide, he could only nod.
Midir laced his fingers together. “So long ago that all but the very oldest of us have forgotten, I ruled a kingdom of my own. It was when our two worlds, Faerie and the Mortal Realm, were so intertwined as to be nearly indistinguishable. I had two wives, and by my eldest wife I had a daughter, Bri.” He paused, looking across the millennia to a vision only he could see. His voice lowered. “She was so gentle. I remember, when she was little, she would give me these sticky kisses that I couldn’t stand. I tried to forbid her sweets because she was always sticky from them, but even my most hardened warriors would give in to her smiles and pleading.” A smile that had nothing to do with sadism tugged at his mouth for a moment. “Bri grew into a beautiful girl, and one day she caught sight of a sidhe lord from the neighboring kingdom. She was very young and her heart was untried and she immediately fell in love with him. It seems he felt the same way. But she was my only child and he was not a Son of Dagda or even a descendant of one, and in my pride I refused to let them be together. When he tried to meet with her I had soldiers run him and his men off – one of them died.
“Rumors jumble as they travel, and Bri and her ladies had watched my soldiers run the boys off, and had seen one fall. The word that reached my daughter’s ear confirmed her worst fear, that it was her young love that had been slain. She took to her chamber and within the hour died of a broken heart.” Midir’s face had become expressionless, but he could not keep the pain from his eyes. “It was because of me and my damnable pride. The rumor was wrong, it wasn’t her young lord who died, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered to me was that I would never get another sticky kiss.” He glanced at Cian. “I took the name ‘Midir the Proud’ that day.”
Cian was afraid of Midir, but he could not help but ache for him a little. “You never had more children?”
He shook his head. “I lost everything worth having. My eldest wife warred against my younger wife, and in the end Fate took them both from me. Without my family my kingdom was worthless to me. I wandered for a long time, much like Dagda himself now wanders, a king in name only.” His mouth twisted into the bitter smile. “Eventually I even lost that.”
“Is that why you didn’t court my mother?”
“It is what led me there. You are still very young, so you do not have a frame of reference for this, but life is long and while we do not forget the past, the pain of loss eventually becomes something we can endure. Time passed and I was ready to live again. To rule again. But by then Faerie had begun to withdraw from the Mortal Realm and was becoming the realm you know, where kingdoms are forged by force of will out of so much nothingness and gray mist. I now had many, many younger brothers with kingdoms of their own, thanks to Dagda’s prolific ability to sire sons. Curiously, we have few sisters, but I digress. My brothers thought that any kingdom I could create from the raw stuff of Faerie would eclipse theirs and so they struck a deal with me. In exchange for not building my own realm within Faerie, I would be given generous holdings and the right to foster all of my brothers’ sons.
“In a very real way, I could have children again – many children. I would raise and guide and mentor the next generation of kings, and the generations that followed. None of them could ever take the place of my Bri, but it was an offer that filled a need in me more than having a kingdom of my own did, so I agreed. For many centuries, I was happy.”
Midir stood suddenly and began to pace, his steps measured, his right hand flexing, to the window and back again. “And then I met a woman. She was beautiful – but aren’t all sidhe women? More than that, she was brilliant and powerful and intoxicating. She was a Queen of her own realm and not of Dagda’s line, which is not common. I had taken other lovers before then. I even had a favored mistress when I first came to know her. I discarded the girl soon after.” Rage colored Midir’s face. “I lived for the moments I could be with my Summer Queen, and the hours without her crawled by like eternities. I was not the only one who courted her, but I was the most ardent and the most powerful.” He turned toward Cian, his expression wild. Cian recoiled from his intensity. “I loved her! Finally, I swore to her that I would never love another.” His breathing was ragged. “Just that. No stipulations, no prevarications. I gave her everything. And I won her heart.” He gave a bitter laugh. “For a little while.”
“A… a little while?”
Midir’s smirk was twisted with rage and pain. “Her name is ‘The Summer’s Kiss,’ after all. I just never thought I would be one to burn.”
Cian’s eyes widened. The Summer’s Kiss? But… but that was Queen Niahm, Etienne and Senán’s mother!
“No, Anluan, that viper, had learned the secret to courting her by watching his brothers try and fail, so when her passion for me began to cool he was there waiting, pretending disinterest, and enticed her to court him. The
y married and merged their realms.” Midir sneered. “Of course Niahm eventually tired of him, too, and their union is an unbreakable pantomime of misery – but I was the one left destroyed!” He brought his fist down on the back of the chair that held his jacket and the frame let out a resounding crack.
Cian flinched back with a whimper.
Midir gripped the chair back, his fingers turning white before tearing through the upholstery. The wood groaned. “Because of her, I cannot love anyone ever again. Lest I become foresworn, stripped of my power and rendered naked and vulnerable to my enemies.” His eyes burned with intensity and his breath came fast and hard. “Do you understand? I’ve been trapped like this for over a thousand years!”
Cian shivered in terror. He tried to think through the fear, but he did not know what to say.
Midir turned away from Cian and the ruined chair. He stalked the short distance to the window and stood with both hands braced against the glass, glaring out at the city in the early morning sunlight. Tension sung across his shoulders like a bowstring pulled too tight.
Long moments passed in silence. Cian felt his shivering lessen, and his mind was able to work again. Questions began to pile up. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He nibbled on his lower lip, and then drew in a deep breath. “Is that why you kidnapped Senán and me? Is that why you’re going to invade the realms? Revenge?” Midir turned to face him, an incredulous expression on his face, but Cian pressed on. “But you can’t invade. You said it yourself. You’ll be foresworn. You agreed you wouldn’t have your own realm within Faerie…”
Midir held up his right hand, leaving the left pressed to the glass. “Stop. What are you talk…?” He stopped, his gaze turning inward for a moment, and then burst into laughter.
Cian frowned. “We know about the giant rift you’re opening, and that you took Senán and killed that other prince to weaken the two courts, and that you’re building an army of fae.”
But Midir was still laughing. “Is that what she said?” His mirth rang through the bedroom, and filled Cian with confusion. “Stupid bitch. I took Senán because he should have been my son, not Anluan’s. And now he will always be mine. As for Prince Ciaran – let’s just say that Ceallach is not the only brother of mine who should be wishing he had kept his promises. They thought they were clever, when only the eldest of them swore their sons to my care in exchange for my oath. They thought that meant they could just turn their backs on me. And now they have lost the sons they owed to my care.” His grin could have drawn blood. “What I did to you… that was for revenge, too. Because Anluan would have you.”
Cian shuddered, but kept to his plan to keep Midir talking. He just did not want to talk about that, specifically. “Then, you don’t plan to invade Faerie?”
Midir snorted. “No. My brothers can keep their precious little realms.” He turned back to the window and said, his voice quiet and intense, “I’m after something much better.” Cian watched Midir’s eyes as they scanned the skyline. At last he said in a voice so soft even Cian barely heard him, “The time of hiding is over.”
Cian’s brows knit together. “What…?”
A strange, warbling keen rose in the air, bringing with it an arcane resonance that set all the glass in the room vibrating. Midir backed away from the window, a frown turning his mouth… and a ball of lavender energy burst through one of the inner walls and struck against his side, splattering color across his shields. Midir cursed and turned just as more colored balls flew through the same wall, shattering lamps and mirrors where they did not pass right through the next wall. Cian could hear the sounds of destruction in other rooms. The keen cut off and was replaced by a voice that screamed out words, ragged and breaking. “What’s happening?”
Cian’s heart stuttered with recognition. Even distorted, he knew that voice. “Senán!” He jumped to his feet. “I can hear you!”
There was a wail. “How can I understand you?”
Cian blinked, and then his eyes widened. He had still been speaking in Faerie Gaelic. He switched to English. “Senán! Jeremy? It’s Ci-”
Midir struck Cian across the face. “Shut up!”
“Who am I?” The vibration intensified. Midir looked to the windows in alarm.
Cian took advantage of his distraction to shift further away. “You’re Prince Senán of Seelie! You’re my frie-”
“I said be silent, fool!” Midir backhanded Cian hard enough to take him off of his feet, over the corner of the bed, and onto his side on the floor. “You’re making it worse.”
Senán had begun wailing again, repeating, “It’s not true,” over and over in rapid succession. Magic flew around the room with no pattern or direction. The windows shivered with increasing violence.
Midir strode halfway across the room, then turned back and pointed a threatening hand at Cian. “Stay. We’re not finished.” He held Cian’s wide eyes a moment longer and then hurried away. He slammed the door shut behind him.
Cian collapsed to his side, quaking on the carpet. The whole side of his face throbbed with pain, he could taste blood in his mouth, and in his mind he was again a young boy at Midir’s mercy. The agony, the confusion, the smells; they all washed over him, threatening to drown him in horrific memory. He stared unblinking at the entwined leaf pattern of the bedspread. This time his blood would not soak the grass of that forest glade, but this blanket.
“Who are you? You’re not my father!”
Cian jerked away from the hanging edge of the bedspread and raised himself up on his elbow to look in the direction of his friend’s cry. Senán needed his help. But Midir’s voice also carried through the wall, the words less clear but his anger unmistakable. Cian could not stop the whimper that rose to meet the blood in his mouth. He put his shaking hand on the edge of the bed and pulled himself to his knees. Compared to Midir he was nothing, an insect to be crushed without thought. Even Etienne was afraid of Midir, and Etienne wasn’t afraid of anything.
There was a sharp pop to Cian’s right. He looked and saw a map of cracks had formed in the window glass. Still it shivered from the magical vibrations.
Cian also still shivered. He turned to the closed door. If he disobeyed Midir, he knew he would hurt him. And he did not want to leave Senán, not when he was so close. But, he had to be smart if he was going to save his friend. He didn’t stand a chance against Midir. And what had Midir meant, “I made mistakes with Senán that I do not want to make with you?” Was he talking about tearing apart his mind like he had Senán’s? The thought made Cian shake harder and he struggled against his fear. He had to think.
What would Etienne do? Cian’s first thought was that Etienne wouldn’t leave him and that thought filled him with warmth that eased the shaking. Etienne was coming for him; he knew he was – but he didn’t want Etienne to get killed trying to rescue him. Etienne was smart. He would be looking for the right opportunity. Cian had to give it to him. And then they would get Winter and together they would save Senán.
Cian looked down at his hand against the patterned bedspread. He had to find his way out of here.
He eased out the door and into the hall, to find himself face to face with a shattered mirror. The fragments of his reflection looked frightened and pale. He took another step – and jerked backwards as a blue streamer of magic blew past his face. He pulled the bedroom door shut behind him.
“Get away from me!”
“Damn it, boy, calm down!”
Cian could not help it. He was drawn to the open door just down the hall. He just wanted to see his friend.
Wild magic formed a maelstrom in the center of the room, a swirling storm of light and color that exploded randomly in all directions. It was the storm that was the source of the resonance. A huddled figure hunched down on the floor in the middle of it all. Midir had both arms raised as he tried to get closer and had to duck away when a ball of light spun towards his face.
Cian backed quickly away out of Midir’s line of sight. There wa
s nothing he could do here, and he needed to get out while Midir was distracted. He moved with rapid steps down the hall, trying to sense when the wild magic would start flying again and straining his hearing for the sound of anyone else. But all he could hear were Midir and Senán.
The hall let out into the large room that Midir had dragged him through before. It looked like a collection of smaller rooms without walls, each defined by its furnishing, with what he had come to recognize as a kitchen near a table and chairs, and then clusters of chairs and couches loosely arranged around the strange, featureless black hearth. But what he was looking for was displayed along the walls.
Weapons of every sort hung from racks and were exhibited on the walls in designs – some of varieties and uses Cian had never seen and could not imagine. But most of them he knew and not just from Etienne’s tutelage. While they had lived among the therian wolves on their farm in Kentucky, their Wolf King had taken him as one of his squires and taught him many things about war and weapons of the Mortal Realm. Kendrick belonged to an order of knights called the “Es Cee Ay.” Etienne thought the wolves were weird to always pretend it was still another time, but Cian thought it was wonderful.
His eye was drawn to one weapon in particular, one even he had heard of, holding court in isolated splendor against the glittering black surface of the fireplace mantle. It was a war axe, a lethal work of exquisite art etched into silvery gold sidhe steel. At a full four feet in length, each graceful, curved blade was capable of cutting a knight in half. A weeping sidhe maiden was engraved on each blade face, four different, elegant depictions of despair, and their tears trailed down the long handle to form the wickedly pointed teardrop-shaped hilt. It had slain thousands.
