by Scott, Amber
“Allow me but a moment,” Breanne said. “I ask you to stay only long enough to hear my words. I vow on my babe’s life stirring inside me, I mean you no ill will.”
Ailyn followed Breanne’s gaze to her own hands. They were clenched tight, one resting against the dagger at her hip. Forcibly, she relaxed her fingers, splaying them in the air. Dirt streaks covered her knuckles. Scrapes. Blood. This woman had cared for her well. Whatever hesitations Ailyn had, it behooved her to at least consider what she would say.
She leveled her attention back to Breanne, nodding once.
“You are correct to think there are those of us who would kill your kind. Only a generation or two past, some hunted Faeries as a last, desperate hope to keep to the old ways. But most of us have known a healthy fear of the Fae, never wishing to upset the balance or tempt what we know to be a powerful race.” Her words were measured. “But the world—our world—is in change.”
Breanne pointed Ailyn to her vacant chair and took to pacing the room in slow strides.
“I’ve come to accept that I canno’ sustain what I know to be true in the traditions I devoted myself to. The Lord and his son Christ are wooing the hearts of our people. Morrigan and Brigit shall become lore.”
Ailyn should not be surprised that the goddesses’ names would still be known in the mortal realm. It was not so long ago that the Fae world had been cleaved from this one in order to protect both races. Still, hearing the names made her feel less lost here.
“It is not regrettable as much as the way of the cycles, I suppose,” Breanne continued. “What I can do is keep the knowledge blessed to me well and adjust, as we all must.”
As we all must. Ailyn failed to yet comprehend what she was explaining, except that it meant Breanne knew things. Future events. Past. Ailyn couldn’t guess. But she listened, stomach tight, anxious to be to the end of it. What else could she do but hear the woman out? The veil was gone. Now Maera and Colm, too.
She needed this woman on her side if she wanted to see her brother again. That much was clear. “Quinlan suggested you had certain gifts.”
Breanne paused in her pacing. She crossed her arms atop her belly. “Do you know the history of the bloodstone, Ailyn?”
Did she jest? History? “Aye, I know the tale. The stone that severed the Túatha dé Danann from the mortal realm.” The stone that saved all Faerie folk, so ordered by her people’s mother, Anu. “What do you know of it?” she asked.
Breanne smiled softly, perhaps acknowledging Ailyn’s flagrant doubt.
“I know it has two sister stones. The Moonstone, which breeds the magick of your realm. And the Sunstone, that tempers the remaining magick in mine.” Breanne’s eyes were intent as she spoke. “They have been carefully passed down through generations.”
“Aye, until the Bleak Years.” What did any of this have to do with her situation?
A ruckus outside the door made her pause in asking. Breanne poked her head out of the door a moment. “I’ll not be much longer.”
The distinct sound of nails on wood sent Ailyn to the door as well. Colm? No. Not a wolf in sight. Merely Breanne’s husband and Quinlan looking unabashed over their scolding.
“Dinna be leaving, Quin. I need a moment with you as well.”
“And I you,” he said, his gaze passing over Ailyn and coming to rest at her neck. For a brief second, his eyebrows drew together. Then he looked back to Breanne with a rascally grin.
Breanne rolled her eyes at the men, pulled Ailyn away, and maneuvered her back to the chair, letting the door fall heavily shut. “Now where was I? Ah, that’s right. The stones.”
She knew the tale well enough. Her mother used to tell her moon stories to put her to sleep. Ailyn’s hand went to the pendant at her neck, her heart squeezing, missing her mother. That anger she was beginning to associate with this place, with this situation, itched back up her spine. “Forgive me, Breanne, but I dinna ken what three mythical stones have to do with my present circumstances.”
“You, Ailyn, will find the stones before the wrong person does.”
The hairs on her arms stood on end. “The stones do not exist. They are tales to keep Fae children from tempting the veil, from wandering from their mothers’ skirts.” The hairs along her scalp tickled to attention as she watched Breanne slowly shake her head.
“They are as real as you and I. As magickal as the portal that brought you here. They are real and they are your destiny, Ailyn.”
Ailyn cracked a smile, her mind spinning. “You’re mistaken, Breanne. Whatever dream you’ve dreamed is not of me. I have no gifts. I am as brown-blooded as a faerie can be.”
“What you seek requires no magickal skill, Ailyn.”
“I seek nothing but my way home. I’ve no mind to find stones that do not exist. I’ve no call to go on a mad hunt while my brother and my future queen ruin thousands of lives second by passing second.” She’d revealed too much. Her anger bubbled higher, though. Such nonsense. Such wasteful nonsense. “I want to endear my plot to you, I do. But I canno’ pretend when I’m faced with the absurd.”
“You needn’t win me over, Ailyn. I am on your side. I ken you have fears.”
Fears? What did she know of fears? Ailyn stood up, entirely ready to leave here. She no longer cared where she could go, or if she could even get home. She would not stay here. That she knew. That she could do. She reached the door, too angry to speak, her face hot with it, tears threatening her eyes.
She would not cry, though. There was naught to cry over. Her brother was grown. He would have to answer for his own life’s choices and their consequences. Her heart tore at the thought—a sharp, stinging pain in her chest. She would travel as far as her legs would go, and wherever that ended, she would between and there and here find a plan—a purpose for herself. Her hand turned the knob, but she did not pull it open.
Something small inside her held her there, waiting for Breanne to say something to keep her there. But Breanne was silent. The low timber of Quinlan’s voice filtered through, his muted conversation with Ashlon sounding jovial.
She envied him. How did he put on such gladness after all that he’d helped her through in a matter of days? He knew little of what he’d really helped her through. He only knew that she was lost, was searching for her friend, and then, like a mad pixie, befriended a wolf.
He’d not demanded answers. He’d merely walked honorably through it, taking each new event in stride.
“If you find the stones, you will be free to return to Danaan,” Breanne said. Her hand came to rest on Ailyn’s shoulder. “And I vow to you, you’ll not face the task alone.”
Ailyn finally turned around, allowing herself to at least hear Breanne out. “I canno’ imagine you’ll be much help, lest you have somehow swayed your husband and can trust your baby to stay put.”
Breanne laughed heartily at that. “Oh, how I wish it could be me. You’ve no idea how much. But alas, you’re right. I have no call to join you, and not because of my husband’s will or my baby’s birth. It is merely not my task to take. I would make things worse. So instead, I’ll do as I’ve been guided and aid where I can.”
Ailyn knew who would join her. She did not need Breanne to say his name.
“Danny?” Breanne called.
Ailyn hardly stepped clear of the door when a young man burst through. “Aye, Breanne? Are you well? Is the babe well?”
Breanne threw her hands up in exasperation. “She’ll come when she’s ready. I swear these men will have me pulling my own hair out with their coddling. I’ve a mind to banish them. Better yet, to banish myself.” She waved off the man’s fussing. “Ailyn, I present my brother, Daniel. He’ll be your guide and protector.” She moved past them both, leaving the room.
Danny took Ailyn’s hand and bent over it. “At your service, m’lady.”
This man was her guide? Surely he was too young, too…. Ailyn gave the young man, not even sporting facial hair yet so tender were his years, a wobbly smi
le. “Breanne?” she called, following suit and leaving the small, feminine room.
Danny followed, loping to her side. “We can depart as early as sunrise.”
Depart? To where? For what? Irritation pecked at her mind. She grit her teeth, rounding a corner and hitting Quinlan square in the chest. She stepped backward, fending off too many hands clearly meant to right her balance.
“Danny, how are you lad?” Quinlan said, letting Ailyn knock his hands away.
“Quin!” Danny grasped the other man’s arm. They clapped each other on the shoulder turn by turn. “How’ve you been?”
“Very well. When did you return to Tir Conaill?”
Ailyn looked past them, searching what she could see of the rooms for Breanne.
“A fortnight past. I’ve been holed up a bit.”
“Oh? Studies? Is Patrick after you to scribe his scriptures?”
“I’ve ducked his efforts, but, aye, he’s interested to be sure.” Danny beamed at the older man.
Exactly how much older, Ailyn couldn’t guess, but the difference was stark. Quinlan had a whiskered jawline, chiseled cheekbones, and a slender scar along his jaw. His broad shoulders and meaty musculature, even the confidence in his gait, spoke of a man who’d seen much and weathered more. Danny’s face was handsome, but still had the soft look of youth; the bright eyes of it, too.
She could not be delivered into such young hands. Not if what Breanne had claimed was true. The last several dozen hours of her life returned to feeling like a grand joke, a farce. As though at any moment her brother would leap from a hidden spot and shout to the world that he was just having a prank on her. A joke would make all this ridiculousness benign.
Nothing at stake, save her brother’s thick head once she thumped him upside it.
“Where are you off to come dawn, pray tell?” Quinlan asked Danny.
The man’s youthfulness changed before her eyes as his gaze grew guarded and his jaw set. “Breanne asked me to show Ailyn about, help her feel welcome.”
Quinlan’s demeanor changed as well, ever so subtly. “You’ll be staying then?”
Ailyn averted her gaze from his penetrating stare, looking to Danny only to find his expression too intent. As though she had other options. She did not. Unless walking away from her world, her life, her home and her duty counted as an option. She’d thought so but moments ago but it wasna in her to follow through.
She loved her kingdom too much. She loved her queen and her people. She loved her brother. She could not leave Colm behind no matter what. Not even if he was fine and well on his own. If there was a chance that Breanne’s claims were true and she could get them home, she had to attempt the task.
“Aye, until Maera is well enough for travel,” she said at last. They didn’t have to look so relieved! The fact that they did warmed her, though.
Perhaps they were the exception among the mortal world. Perhaps not all of them wanted to harvest Fae magick. Or perhaps none of them knew who she really was.
Which kept her safe.
The moment she located Breanne in the small maze of rooms, she would glean the details. Who knew what and exactly how all of this madness would bring her home. She would locate the bloodstone, Sunstone, and Moonstone—then be well again.
All would be well again.
It had to be.
Chapter Eleven
They were up to something. Quinlan could practically smell the ruse emanating from Danny like steam. Ashlon had been far too conversational. Breanne flitted from room to room; the woman was not wont to flit. Danny couldn’t lie his way out of a sack. And Ailyn looked, well, befuddled.
She’d had much to handle, though. Her friend, him, the wolf, Breanne’s ministrations. He watched her carefully, taking in every nuance from the way her nose crinkled, the freckles dotting her creamy skin, the bemusement in her eyes. She was in over her head, surely.
He couldn’t guess why, though. Breanne would know. Would she tell him? Only one means to find out. “Be sure to show her the abbey’s renovations. Patrick will be pleased to make her welcome. And my sister, too. Rose adores a guest. I warn you, Ailyn, she’ll talk a new hole into your ear, but she has a good heart and knows all there is to know about these parts.”
Ailyn smiled tightly and nodded. Danny as well.
Excusing himself, he searched for Breanne. Instead, he found Ashlon sharpening his blade outside. “She’s resting,” Ashlon said, before Quinlan could open his mouth.
Interesting. Either fatigue had its grips on his instincts, or even Breanne was avoiding him. The memory of the blood-soaked room weighed on his conscience. Ashlon was not the man to ask, though. In fact, sharing the incident might cause Breanne troubles. For now, he had to trust that if something was amiss, Breanne would tell Ashlon. She would not have left Quinlan and Ailyn at Heremon’s to begin with had she known of danger. If naught was well, none wished to share it with him.
“Resting, you say?”
“Aye. She’d like you to come another day.”
Niall would be disappointed. He saw no cause to insist, though.
Best to leave well enough alone, he decided.
At least until dawn.
At least until he rode out and followed Danny and Ailyn to decipher what deceptions were afoot.
~
“Let it never be said that Ashlon will woo the king’s court,” Danny said, his attention on Quinlan as he rode away.
Breanne poked her brother in the ribs. He was tall enough now that she had to aim well, and fast enough now that he almost blocked her jab. “My husband doesna need to impress a king. He only needed to spark Quinlan’s suspicion, which he has, methinks.”
“Aye, he wore his suspicion like a mantle. But let’s be honest. Quinlan is not a man known for taking up a cause.”
“Posh! He took up Robert the Bruce’s cause, did he not?”
“Only to run from a broken heart and a smidge of humiliation when you chose another to marry.” Danny happily pointed out. “We’ll not mention the merits of your choice, being that you’re in a delicate condition.”
Apparently, the men in her life showed affection through insults. The sharper the insult, the deeper the bond. Breanne worried at her lower lip, letting the barb slide. What if Danny was right? Just because Quinlan was suspicious did not mean he would act on it. He had no real motivation to do so. He had known Ailyn all of two days, come the morrow. He and Danny were not close enough to warrant him interfering in the name of friendship. Not like Ashlon would in the same position. But then, Ashlon saw Danny as a lad still. He likely would all his life. Danny had grown into manhood at Ashlon’s side, learning, following, and matching him in physical and mental feats.
Ashlon would intervene just to keep an eye on Danny and care not for any insult the action might be on Danny’s pride. Quinlan, though, she could see washing his hands of whatever they were up to. His curiosity might be enough. “Let us hope we’ve inspired our carefree friend into being nosy, at the very least.”
“Should I delay come morning until I’m sure he’ll show, or follow?” Danny asked.
The sound of the door shutting below announced Ashlon returning from his sword sharpening. They needed to return below as well. Ailyn must think her the rudest hostess in two realms. “Nay. I trust the vision.” She’d seen Quinlan aiding Ailyn. Unfortunately, she did not know at what point that came. She followed her desire to incite him to get involved, seeing it as part of the vision. But part of her doubted her own intentions. As Danny had pointed out, Quinlan’s heart had suffered because of her. If she were honest with herself, the vision of him and Ailyn had given her hopes that he would find a love like hers. She and Quinlan had been friends all their lives. She wanted to see him happy. “We’ll do our best to let it be. If he’s meant to involve himself, he will.”
They had much to do if they were to get Danny and Ailyn prepared for the journey ahead. Horses, weapons, furs. If the weather held, they might reach Giant’s Causeway by
nightfall. The creaking stairs reminded her to return below.
“I imagine Ailyn has a hundred questions for me by now.”
Danny nodded absently, looking to be deep in thought. Breanne knew the look well. Her sweet brother had become a cerebral man. He had fine skills at the sword, but his mind was sharper than any blade known to man. Now, to clear the way for him to apply it to what would amount to saving an entire race of people. Ailyn’s people.
If Breanne had deciphered her vision accurately, that is.
~
Quinlan had never counted the man as a friend. Seamus McFarland had needed to hear no more than the words “blood” and “soaked” to comply readily with Niall’s requested inquiry into the missing cattle. With three of his men, Seamus had followed Quinlan back to Heremon’s abandoned home, eager to discover the source of the blood—human or animal.
“Late this morning, you say?” Seamus shouted as he dismounted outside the hovel.
“Aye,” Quinlan answered, tethering his horse to a low tree limb.
Seeing the four burly galloglas approach the home, all muscle and fists, had Quinlan questioning the verity of taking what he’d found to Niall. His king needed to know of such things, though. Just as well that Breanne hadn’t answered his questions yet. Quinlan once again left out the parts about finding Ailyn, Maera, and the wolf. If there looked to be a tie to the three and the blood, he’d readily share the connection. But his gut told him naught.
Something else was amiss, unrelated to their arrival at the home. Surely it was an odd coincidence at this point and more than likely the blood connected to the slaughtered bovine from the rite. Now that Ailyn was safely gone, the five men could properly assess the room.
Seamus shouldered through the door as though a criminal lay in wait on the other side. Quinlan could just imagine the upturn they’d put on the home’s contents. Could not be helped, though. Breanne would be heartbroken to find her mentor’s home in disarray. It had to have been she who kept the place up enough for it to remain in a somewhat habitable condition.
