by Scott, Amber
A tendril of gold wafted past his brow, teasing through the soft curl of his hair. His face made her ache; it was so finely chiseled. So beautiful. Dangerous beauty. The kind that stole hearts and good sense. Marry it to such pleasure, and a woman could lose herself in the hope that he could love her. But how could he ever love her?
Love would make leaving so keenly painful. Love between them would be impossible. Tragic.
Still, she had no regret over this magickal experience.
She smiled up at him, hoping the wonder in his gaze would linger just a bit longer, because for long moments, that look made her feel like the most precious person in the world to him. She felt treasured. Such power!
Magick. She watched another soft amber glow above his head as it changed to pink, and then evolved to lavender. Unease seeped into her belly. Water lapped at her legs. The mossy bank beneath her became suddenly apparent. The air was cooling.
The lavender deepened to violet. Quinlan’s brow furrowed. “What is it, lass?”
Emotion clogged Ailyn’s throat. She adjusted herself so as to encourage him to separate from her. He didna. He held on tighter.
“I’m getting cold,” she said, hoping that would mollify him.
“Liar,” he said, though did so gently enough. “Tell me what it is. I can see it in your eyes.”
She pushed at his chest. She would lose her tongue before admitting her thoughts to him. Because she could not stomach his seeing that their passion had not simply overruled them—magick had been at play. A force wanted them to join.
Was that force man, or fate? She didna know. But enchantment had wrapped around them, blocking out the world, transcending them. Without that force, she didna doubt, they would not have been led by their desires. They would have been again tempted, aye, but they would not have surrendered.
Quinlan tucked her chin and squinted at her. “Whatever you are convincing yourself of in that mind of yours, I’ve an interest in hearing. Particularly if it pertains to me.”
Ailyn masked her face, or leastwise attempted to. “This changes nothing,” she said, keeping her tone soft to protect his pride, yet distance herself as well. She needed a safe distance from the impact their union wrought on her body and spirit. “That is all I was thinking of. That, and of my pendant.”
His eyes crinkled the tiniest bit, as though he thought her words a bit amusing.
Her unease tinged with sadness. He would be hard to leave. The threads of light were disappearing; with the magick, the darkness beyond lifted, too. The sound of her name in the distance sent a jolt through her.
Quinlan stiffened, too. “Your brother?”
She shook her head. It couldn’t be Colm. In wolf form, having spoken of Maera just seconds before falling to the ground and changing, he’d run from here. She felt that, deep down, he’d not be back. “Not unless he transformed again.”
“And there are rules around such happenings?” Quinlan moved to the side, reaching for his wet clothing, handing hers to her.
She honestly didna know. Ailyn hurriedly rang out the breeches, looking for a low bough to hang them on to dry. Quinlan next handed her his mantle. She gladly took it, letting him wrap it around her and securing it. She nigh drowned in the heavy material, but it covered her well enough.
Again, she heard her name, closer this time. She opened her mouth to call an answer, but Quinlan hushed her.
“I’ll be wanting to know who’s coming before we oblige a potential foe.”
The distant voice sounded hoarse and weary, so she couldna be sure it wasna Colm, perhaps harangued over such rapid changes to his body. That was a fretful notion. She paced the tree line as Quinlan disappeared into it, clad in naught but his woolen blanket—the very one Colm had used.
The magick that had seduced them now receded completely, leaving a cloudy late afternoon sky above and a deep sinking feeling in Ailyn’s belly. She’d thought herself a more capable, sturdier force. She’d lost her mother’s pendant. The key to her safety. To her brother’s safety. To her entire world’s safety.
She’d completely lost sight of her quest in the face of a powerful attraction. An attraction that could bear no fruit, and in fact, worsened matters in ways she would not fool herself into believing comprehensible now. Daniel was gone; his research taken. Kristoph was searching her out.
Oh, blessed be, was it Kristoph’s sorcery at hand? What if he had bewitched them? Distracted them in the most seductive way as he searched out her pendant in the depths of the pond?
Ailyn put her hands to her stomach, feeling she might be sick.
What had she done?
What more could she fail?
“Mother, how could you have entrusted this to me? Colm would have done so much better.” Colm would have the pendant in hand, would have acquired the bloodstone with ease, and would likely have slain Kristoph—all in one clean stroke of his blade.
Her mother’s last words echoed through her. You are its keeper now, Ailyn. Protect it above all else. Promise me, Ailyn. Let no man or thing come before protecting this stone.
Had she let her lust come before it? Was she blaming the magick when the true blame resided with her? She would definitely be sick. She fell to her knees near the pond, searching the grassy mound that Quinlan had made love to her upon.
“What have I done?” she whispered, unable to stop the tumbling fear.
“We’ll find it,” Quinlan said from the trees. “I swear to you, if it is here, we will find it.” He strode to her, taking her hand so that she looked up at him.
Ailyn followed his glance back at the trees where a grizzled-faced man stood, shoulders hunched with age, a bundle of parchment held close to his chest. She stood up, wary of the man’s cagey movements.
Quinlan touched her shoulder. “It’s Daniel,” he said very softly. “I nearly cut and disemboweled him. He’s been cursed, to be sure, but he’s found what he was looking for.”
The air left her body. Daniel? Her gaze flew from Quinlan back to the man before her, wizened with age, his hands gnarled from time, his hair grayed, his beard long. “Impossible.” Yet as she drew near him as carefully as she would to a wounded animal, she saw there in his eyes…youth.
“Who did this, Daniel?” she asked, reaching out to him. But she feared she knew. Kristoph.
He entered the clearing with great care, waving away her hands. “We shall need a fire, Ailyn,” Daniel rasped. “The dark descends upon us. Only light will keep it at bay.”
“I’ll see to it,” Quinlan said in a low timbre that worsened the worry in her belly.
Ailyn shook off her shock, scrambling to provide aid where she could. She cleared a stone for Daniel to sit upon near the pit. Digging through her satchel, she found a last bit of dried meat and a hard roll. In Quinlan’s, she found a skin of wine.
Daniel’s hands shook as he ate, but his sigh of relief gave Ailyn hope. “Where have you been, Daniel? What force brought this upon you?” If Kristoph was to blame, she needed to know. “Know one’s enemy as you would your friend,” Colm had oft said.
“Give him a bit of respite, Ailyn.” Quinlan stirred the fire with calm, but Ailyn could feel his interest as keenly as her own. He wanted answers as well. Time was a luxury they could not afford. Yet she could not demand that Daniel answer. Not in his weakened state. Part of her wanted to prolong those answers, too. They would not be easy to hear. She’d not hear them alone, though. The realization gave her comfort. Whatever powers she would face in Krisoph, she might not have to face alone.
Soon, the full moon reflected off the water and the fire cast dancing shadows on Daniel’s face as he quietly chewed. Quinlan went to the fire and fashioned a torch from the peat and a thick branch. He walked the perimeter of the meadow, sweeping the ground with the torch. He was searching for her pendant, she realized.
She rose to assist him, glad for an excuse to escape seeing what she’d brought upon a man who happened to be a scholar, and therefore had helped her peo
ple. Daniel put a hand on her arm, though, stopping her.
“Wait,” he said, his voice slightly less raspy but worrisome all the same.
Reluctantly, she sat back down, moving closer when he indicated that she do so.
“Colm?” he asked.
“He came here, but he’s gone now. Did you send him to me, then?”
Daniel shook his head. “Nay. But alive?”
“Aye.” Her chest ached. “Leastwise, he left alive, as a wolf.”
Nodding, Daniel wiped his mouth. He eased the bundle down to his lap, having kept it clutched tight as he ate. He fingered through the pages. Watching his trembling, fumbling hand was torture. She wanted to take the bundle and comb through each page, to understand what he’d found. Biting back the urge, she glanced at Quinlan. She had to wonder if he was searching or simply allowing them a bit of privacy.
The fire crackled. Sparks spit into the air.
“Your mother gave it to you.”
She nodded, frowning as he handed her a page. There, in deep azure ink, was a drawing of her pendant dangling from a delicate hand. Her mother’s hand. Fione had the loveliest hands. Elegant. Expressive. But so strong that one firm squeeze could banish such fear in her child’s heart. The memories flooded Ailyn. Pieces of conversations with her mother echoed in her mind. How she missed her!
Colm is your brother, not your keeper, love. Your path is yours to forge.
Your father and I made our own magick. The kind that transcends blood and binds forever. Dinna settle for less than the love you come from, Ailyn.
The moon will not hang itself, my sweet. It needs the hope and faith within us all.
Fione D’Eru had a beauty all her own. One that shone from within. It had shone bright till the end, and Ailyn’s life had dimmed without its solid presence. Aye, she had Colm, but naught compared to the enduring unconditional love her mother gave.
The pat on her hand brought her back to the present moment. Daniel’s kind eyes acknowledged her pain.
By Morrigan, she prayed that Daniel would be okay. The evidence of Daniel coming to harm because of her hurt her heart. Daniel had no connections to the Faerie world save his research, as far as she could see. For him to risk so much, only to lose his youth—his life—was indefensible.
Her mother took the secret of the pendant with her as she gasped her last breath.
Ailyn had guarded it with extreme care, never letting another see it. If none saw it, none could touch it. Quinlan and Daniel were the first, and she’d only done so willingly because Daniel already knew of it and she’d been desperate to make Quinlan stay.
He’d seen it at Breanne’s as well. She felt certain of it.
Tears stung her eyes. Blinking them back, Ailyn released a shuddering breath. Where would her fate next take her?
“I’ve seen that before,” Quinlan said from behind her.
Both Daniel and she looked up at him.
His gaze darted from Daniel’s to Ailyn’s. “At Breanne’s. I saw your pendant.”
Heat washed up her cheeks. She’d feared so. All the care she’d taken her entire life to protect it from any eyes, and Quinlan had spotted it.
“Seeing the pendant isna what you meant just now, though,” Daniel said. “Is it?”
Quinlan hesitated. “Aye, at Heremon’s, a parchment was discovered. It looked a great deal like the one you hold now.”
“Alike, but not exact?” Daniel said, sounding far younger than he appeared.
Quinlan squatted in the space between Daniel and Ailyn, his presence solid and comforting. Daniel’s gaze fixed on Quinlan. Ailyn found her heart thrumming in anticipation, feeling the answers coming even as he took the page in hand and examined it.
“Not exact, no.” He handed the parchment back.
Ailyn frowned, unsure she wished to know, yet needing to hear more. “What is different?”
Quinlan released a ragged breath. “While you and Maera rested, I discovered something disturbing. Upon ensconcing you at Breanne’s, I returned with the king’s galloglas to investigate.”
Her frown deepened.
“His guard,” Quinlan clarified. “One of them found a parchment with similar drawings. Having glimpsed your pendant at Breanne’s, I felt it prudent to follow you and Daniel.”
“Heremon’s?” Daniel asked. “What did you see? Who found the drawing?”
Before Quinlan could answer, he drew in a sharp breath. Ailyn as well. Her gaze transfixed on Daniel’s face as it morphed back into the youthful one she’d come to know.
“Christ’s blood, Danny,” Quinlan hissed, shooting to his feet and backing away. “What black magick are you tempting, lad?”
Daniel scrubbed a hand over his face, then cracked a weak grin. “I dinna ken the truth of it, Quin, but I practice no dark art. I vow it.”
Quinlan sliced his hand through the air. “How does a man age by decades, then suddenly regress to his youth if not by dark art, Daniel?”
Daniel stood, a menacing curl to his lips. “I dinna take kindly to your tone, Quin.”
“Oh?” Quinlan stepped closer. “What will you be doing about it, lad? You’ll be telling me the truth or you’ll be facing my blade, that’s what.”
The air fair crackled with their animosity. Ailyn withdrew a few paces, entirely uninterested in their power struggle. Daniel knew things she would soon have to know, but that would matter not without her pendant. She had to find it. She had to stop her mind from spinning. Kristoph’s power was greater than she ever could have imagined. Had Tullah known? Ailyn thought such power had died out generations ago. But, in truth, how would any Fae know of such power unless they themselves wielded it? She certainly had no such magick in her veins, blue blood or not.
The keen sense of truths she wouldna like to hear barreled toward her, would not recede no matter how many steps she took. When both men looked her way, Ailyn gulped.
“There is no running from what comes, Ailyn,” Daniel said.
Quinlan didna speak. He didna need to. She could see every emotion play over his face. The worry, the disappointment. The determination. If she wanted to run from this, if she had any real choice to, he’d be hunting her down and making her face it.
Colm would, too, were he here. Had she been asked if she would face her duty or run, Ailyn would never have guessed she would be so desirous to flee. Having two worlds’ fates at a person’s feet had a way of making her fidget, though.
“We must assume that they have the pendant, Ailyn,” Daniel said. “Looking for it now will only waste precious time.”
“They?” Quinlan asked before she could.
“The rite you saw the night that Ailyn crossed through. They mean to join the bloodstone, the pendant, and the so—”
“The pendant?” She shook her head, dread crawling up her stomach. “But the pendant merely acts as a compass, nothing more, only pointing to the stones’ locations.”
“It is the moonstone, sunstone, and bloodstone that must be brought together.”
Ailyn swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, tight. “Aye. Three stones. Not the pendant.”
“The pendant unlocks the powers of the bloodstone, but only if the third force wields it, aligning it with a full moon at one of the four equinoxes. Each equinox thins the veil between the worlds. When the Fae and mortal worlds were cleaved in two—”
“Third force. You mean to say third stone,” Ailyn said.
Daniel shook his head, his eyes intent. He stepped closer. Quinlan followed suit, his stance wary.
“The text speaks of the third power in such a way that, aye, at first translation I thought it three stones. Breanne agreed. But when I returned—”
“Returned?” she demanded. How could he cross through? How could he go without her?
“Aye, returned. Not from your world, Ailyn. I haven’t the power to conjure the veil.” He waved a flustered hand through the air. “Suffice it to say I’ve been granted access to archives that mortals were banished fr
om a millennia ago. The Fae as well.”
“Not good enough,” Quinlan said, crossing his arms, his chest flexing with tension. “We have time sufficient for at least a thorough explanation, Daniel.”
The younger man’s jaw ticked. He opened and closed his hands into fists. “Fine, then. Have it your way, Quinlan. Samhain is less than three days away, friend. Every moment we waste here puts lives at greater risk. Yours. Mine. Hers.” He stabbed a finger in Ailyn’s direction.
Quinlan bowed forward a few inches. “Be certain to include why that matters, lad, because as weary as I am of these riddles, I imagine Ailyn is threefold.”
She could have kissed him. Part of her resented being talked about as though she were not even present, but her relief was too great to dismiss. When Daniel turned on his heel back to the fire, she followed. Quinlan stoked the flames. Daniel gathered his bundle of parchments.
Chapter Nineteen
“I’ll be asking you to remember. I love my sister dearly, but her gifts touched my life at a young age, and it changed me….”
In truth, the Fae had touched Daniel’s life, Ailyn surmised, as she listened to his tale. When Daniel was but a boy, a Fae sorcerer called Finn had been given to Breanne. Given, because when the sorcerer crossed the veil, he became a cat, much like Colm had become a wolf. Heremon, the king’s Druid, refused to return the cat, perhaps appreciating how few Faerie folk came through to the mortal realm, and that those who did were up to mischief and mayhem.
As a consequence, Heremon granted aiding the cat by one condition—that Breanne must release him from the curse of transformation as a matter of her study in becoming an Ovate.
Finn had little choice but to agree. Years passed with no success. Finn grew impatient and took matters into his own paws, er, hands. Ailyn had to smile at Daniel’s ability to jest over what must have been quite difficult. Finn manipulated the young Danny into betraying his sister.
She could see in his face as he spoke how heavily the betrayal weighed his heart, heavier for all the memories, the doubts had to have been enormously burdensome on a young man. He also carried the stain of Finn’s magick inside him. Dark magick.
