by Jodi McIsaac
“You did your best,” Jane said. “You never gave up. You did more than anyone else would have. And you saved a lot of lives.”
“I know,” Cedar said. “But this was the life I wanted to save the most.”
CHAPTER 19
Jane said good-bye to Cedar just inside the doorway of Felix’s home. Cedar had offered to come with her to tell Felix the terrible news, but Jane could tell that all her friend wanted to do was to be with her family. Besides, sitting vigil at Brighid’s bedside had given Jane a lot to think about. She needed to see Felix—alone.
She walked through the silent halls of his home. She could have called out his name, but she wanted to take her time. She trailed her fingers along the walls, wondering what it would be like to live here, to belong to this magical world. She knew she could never be one of them, but maybe she could become a part of their lives one day, not just through Felix’s furtive visits to her apartment, but here in Tír na nÓg, out in the open. It had happened before, she knew. She had been reading the old stories, and one in particular had struck a chord. Niamh, the daughter of the High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, had fallen in love with Oisín, one of the mortal sons of Fionn mac Cumhaill, and she’d brought him back to Tír na nÓg to rule with her. Niamh and Oisín’s story had a tragic ending: Oisín had longed to return to Earth to see his father and brothers, so Niamh had let him go, with a warning not to step off his white horse. When he arrived back in Ireland, no one but the oldest townsfolk had even heard of the great Fionn mac Cumhaill. He and his followers had died over three hundred years ago. While he was trying to help some men load a boulder into a cart, Oisín slipped off his horse. As soon as he touched the ground, he became an ancient old man. He never saw his love again. We could be different, Jane thought. I could stay here forever…We could write our own story…
She heard his voice coming from one of the healing rooms and stopped outside the door. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but then someone else spoke, and she recognized that person’s voice at once. Irial. Her heart sped up and she cursed it. But in a way, she was glad Irial was still here. She needed to see them both. She needed to be certain.
She pushed open the door without knocking. Irial was sitting shirtless on the edge of the bed, laughing at something Felix had just said. Felix’s back was to her, but she could see he was holding a crystal vial of what had to be Irial’s blood. Then Irial saw her, and the impact was immediate. He leapt off the bed, clutching a white sheet to his chest, and retreated to the farthest corner of the room before Felix even had the chance to turn around. When he did, his eyes lit up. “Jane!”
She stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the two men who had held her heart. But this time, it felt like she was seeing them both clearly for the first time. The attraction to Irial was still undeniable; she could feel the tug of her body toward him. But she no longer felt compelled to obey it. She looked at him curiously. How had she once believed herself in love with this stranger? She turned her back to him to face Felix, who was watching her cautiously.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, and before he had a chance to say anything else, she grabbed Felix’s shirt collar and pulled him toward her. Irial cleared his throat, but she ignored him, lost in the embrace of the one man she had truly loved.
“I’ll just…go, then,” Irial said, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him tiptoe out of the room, a brilliant smile on his face.
Felix was whispering her name. “Jane, Jane, Jane. You came back to me.”
She kissed him again, and then pulled back so that she could look at his face. “Did you really doubt that I would?”
“I hoped, I truly hoped,” he said. “But…I was never quite sure. I thought that maybe once you had the taste of another…”
“It was a drug. A toxin. Nothing more.”
“You don’t want to go back to him?”
“No. I don’t care if I ever see him again. But even if I had to see him every day, it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. You are the one I want to be with. Forever.” She clapped a hand to her mouth, suddenly aware of just how serious things had become. “I mean…” she stammered.
He gently took her hand from her lips and kissed it. “I want that too.”
Forever. She wanted that so badly, but…
“Felix, listen, before we start making promises we can’t keep, you have to remember…I’m human.”
“Delightfully so,” he agreed.
She shook her head. “You don’t understand what I mean. I’m going to keep getting older, while you stay”—she waved her hands at him—“perfect.”
“‘Perfect’ and ‘young’ often have little to do with each other, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Ever heard of the story of Niamh and Oisín?”
“Yes,” Jane said, “Exactly. But—”
“Stories change a lot over the years. This particular one contains both truths and falsehoods. Oisín stayed here for hundreds of years without aging a day, even though he was human. He did go back to Ériu—”
“I know,” she said miserably. “And then he became old and died.”
“Yes,” Felix said, tilting her chin up so that she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “But it didn’t happen all at once like the story said. Oisín left Niamh. He never meant to come back. He started aging once he returned to his homeland, but he lived for many, many years before dying peacefully as an old man.”
“But…why?”
“Niamh couldn’t bring herself to believe that he was never coming back, that he had left her of his own free will. She believed what she wanted to believe: that he didn’t return because he accidentally touched the earth and aged three hundred years in an instant. Her version of the story took root, and it’s the one that’s still being told to children in Ireland today.”
“So if I stay here with you, I’ll stop aging,” Jane said.
“And if you ever choose to leave, you’ll be as beautiful as you are today, no matter what world you choose to live in.”
“What about Cedar? Will she really make an exception to the rules just for us?”
“I think we’ll be able to convince her. Besides, we don’t need to decide right away. I’m happy to stay in Halifax for a while, or just on weekends, or whatever you like. I just thought you might like to know that ‘forever’ is an option, if you want it.”
“‘Forever’ sounds very nice,” Jane said. “But for now, I’m happy with ‘today.’” She sighed, knowing that what she was about to say would dampen his newfound happiness. “I need to tell you about Brighid…”
Irial wandered slowly around Tír na nÓg for what felt like hours, neither knowing nor caring where he was going. It was dark out, and a thrill ran through him as he looked up at the stars, so distant and yet so startlingly bright above him. The air held just a hint of chill, but it was not at all unpleasant. He had spent many bitterly cold nights alone and unsheltered, trying to stay away from humans while still keeping warm and nourished. And now, here he was, a guest of the Tuatha Dé Danann in the Otherworld. Logheryman had been right; the queen had done the impossible. She had risked everything and—in doing so—saved them all. Irial had spent most of his life being shunned or merely tolerated; he had never before encountered such a genuine, generous person. But then he thought of Syrna and wondered if she was still alive. She, too, had offered him understanding.
“Irial?”
A woman’s voice brought him out of his reverie. He looked up and realized that he was nearing the entrance of a great white building with tall, twisting spires. Queen Cedar was walking toward him. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
Irial hastily bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. I was just taking a stroll to give Toirdh—that is, Felix and Jane some time together. They were, uh, making up.” As the queen grew closer, he could see that her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. �
�Oh no,” he whispered. “Your friend?”
“She didn’t make it.”
“I’m…so sorry,” he said, not sure what else to say. He felt a sudden stab of guilt, that he should be alive when others among the Unseen had not survived.
“Thank you,” Cedar said. “I was going to wait until morning, but since you’re here, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Anything.”
“Someone needs to go to the Unseen and explain what has happened. They’ve all been impacted by this. Many of them have lost people they love, and they deserve to know why. They shouldn’t have to live in fear that it will happen again. You know where to find them, and they’ll trust you—you’re one of them. Perhaps together we can start building some bridges between the Unseen and the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
Irial ran his hand through his dark curls, considering. What else did he have to do? He knew firsthand the misconceptions the Unseen had about the Tuatha Dé Danann. What better way to repay the queen than to make sure the Unseen knew they owed their lives to her? “I’d be honored,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll probably join you on some of these excursions, but I have a feeling you may want to visit the selkies alone?” A hint of a smile played at the corner of her lips.
“How did you—”
“She was quite worried about you,” Cedar said. “And I think she’ll be very happy to see you again.”
After saying good-bye to Irial, Cedar proceeded into the Hall and down the stairs that led to the dungeons.
Before running into the gancanagh, she had been sitting by Eden’s bed, watching her sleep. She had tried sleeping herself, but the thought of the empty lounge chair on Brighid’s balcony had kept her awake. She dreaded breaking the news to Eden in the morning. She and Finn had held each other and cried, until he, too, fell asleep. But there was no rest for Cedar—not yet. She couldn’t stop thinking about Thor, either—wondering what he was doing now, how he was coping with his father’s death.
“That’s not going to be us,” she had whispered to Eden. “You and I will be a team. I promise.” She thought about Odin’s last words to her. You’re no queen. You don’t have the stomach to rule a great race, to do whatever it takes.
He was wrong, she had thought. We are—and will continue to be—a great race, and I can rule. There’s just one thing I need to fix. She knew what she had to do, and headed for the dungeons under the Hall.
The guards jerked to attention when they saw her—they had hardly been expecting her; it was almost midnight. She smiled at them and made her way to Helen’s door. One of the guards moved to open it for her, but she held up her hand. “Unlock it, but do not open it,” she said. After he stepped back, she knocked softly on the door. There was silence for a moment, and then the door handle slowly turned, and the door opened.
Helen stood inside, watching her warily.
“I know it’s late. I’m sorry,” Cedar said. “May I…come in?”
“Of course,” Helen said, stepping aside so that Cedar could enter. She motioned toward the one chair in the room, the one behind the desk.
“Oh, no, thank you,” Cedar said. “I’m fine standing.”
Helen sat in the chair and folded her hands on the desk.
Cedar took a long breath, and then said, “Listen, I know I already thanked you for helping bring Eden back, but I also wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I have not treated you very well.”
Helen waited.
“So…you and the other druids are free to go. I’ll open a sidh to wherever you want. You’re also welcome to stay, if you’d rather. I realize…that I’ve been acting rather foolishly. No, worse than that. I couldn’t see past my own anger, my own prejudice. But I have a chance to change all that. I want to put this animosity between our two peoples behind us. We lived in harmony once, and there is no reason why we cannot do it again.”
“That is quite a change of heart,” Helen said. “Can I ask what brought this on?”
“We’re all in this together,” Cedar said. “Unseen, druids, Tuatha Dé Danann. We’re all part of the same strange world. They say we’re the strong ones—the Danann, that is. But if we don’t use our strength to look out for others, then we risk becoming like Odin. I risk becoming like him. And I can’t let that happen.”
Helen looked up at Cedar, and there was a gentleness in her face that Cedar hadn’t seen—or noticed—before. “Thank you. I accept your apology, and I will do my part to help bridge the gap between our people. If you don’t mind, I would like to stay in Tír na nÓg for a while. I’m sure there is much I can learn here. And now that the jewels have been destroyed, there is no pressing need for me to return home. There will be a queue of scholars wanting my job, and they are welcome to it.”
“Of course,” Cedar said. “Eden will be delighted to hear that you are staying.”
“You were right to try to protect her, Your Majesty. If she were my daughter, I would feel the same way. I hope you understand that I was genuinely trying to help. And if I may be so bold, I believe you will be a new kind of queen—one who rules with her heart, not her sword. And that’s something that the Tuatha Dé Danann have not had in a very long time. This ‘strange world,’ as you call it, will be the better for it.”
CHAPTER 20
Cedar felt strangely calm as she approached the Hall the next morning. No guards had been sent to escort her, so she wondered if the Council had taken her abdication seriously. It didn’t really matter to her; she had done what needed to be done, and if giving up the title of queen was the price she had to pay, it had been well worth it.
She had left her hair down and was wearing a simple dress of spring green. The gold dress that had been made for her in Asgard was tucked away in the back of her wardrobe. She thought it might look good on Eden someday. She ignored the curious glances of those she passed as she made her way to the courtyard. Who knew what rumors were circulating about her now?
The Council was waiting for her when she arrived, seated in their circle of chairs in the center of the courtyard. They stood as one when she entered, and bowed to her.
Rohan was the one who greeted her. “Welcome, Your Majesty.”
“I’m not the queen anymore. I abdicated, remember?”
“Ah, yes, about that,” he said. “I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of convening an emergency session of the Council. After a great deal of discussion and, might I add, even more soul-searching, we have unanimously agreed to refuse to accept your abdication. We hope you will continue to do us the honor of being our queen.”
Cedar looked at the faces around the circle, a mix of pride and anticipation and sheepishness. “I don’t understand,” she said. “You opposed me every step of the way. You thought that saving the Unseen was a waste of our time.”
“We were wrong, to put it mildly,” said Rohan.
“Most of us have been here for a very long time, Your Majesty,” said Gorman. “And for most of that time, we have had no contact with other beings or races. Under Lorcan’s rule, life became a matter of survival, and most of us grew accustomed to looking after ourselves before all others. It won’t be easy to change, but if we want to live on as a great race, then change we must. And you are by far the best one to lead us there.”
For a moment, Cedar was speechless, but then she gathered herself. “Thank you,” she said. “It would be my honor.”
After the Council meeting, in which Cedar described her encounter with Thor and Odin in great detail, she walked home with Rohan. “How did you convince them?” she asked.
“It wasn’t hard,” he said. “You convinced them. They respect you, even if they don’t show it at times. You have all the attributes of our greatest leaders—they just look a little different in you because of your upbringing on Ériu. Your tenacity about the Unseen…well, it made us all reconsider our position—myself included. And then when Brighid died, it was something no o
ne thought possible. You and she are quite alike, I must say.”
“Really?” Cedar asked. “How?”
“Out of all of us, the two of you were the only ones who were willing to risk your own lives to save the Unseen,” he said gently.
“And she paid with hers.”
“She did,” Rohan agreed. “But it wasn’t in vain. The two of you have had quite an impact on the Tuatha Dé Danann. You should hear them talking. They’re already saying you’re the greatest queen Tír na nÓg has seen in centuries. Lorcan did a lot of damage. People are excited about this new direction we’re taking.”
Cedar was silent as she thought about what Rohan had said. She didn’t feel like she was leading them in any particular direction—she was just trying to do the right thing. But maybe he was right—maybe it was time for her to stop being a reluctant queen, time for her to really determine what she and the other Tuatha Dé Danann could accomplish for good in the universe.
“Where are all my guards?” she asked, noticing that they were alone.
“Ah, yes. I think it will be fine to relax the security a bit. You’ve proven that you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself.”
Cedar said good-bye to Rohan once they reached their house. She found Finn sitting in the wicker swing in their room, staring out at the pond, no doubt thinking of Brighid. She took a deep breath and walked toward him.
“How did it go?” he asked, straightening up and smiling when he saw her. She sank down onto the chair next to him and filled him in on the Council’s change of heart. He didn’t seem surprised.
“You have that impact on people,” he said. “You certainly had it on me.”
She reached over and took his hand.
“Are you still upset with me for trying to stop you?” he asked. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
“I was—I am—hurt,” she admitted. “I’ve always felt like we were in this together, or at least that’s how it should be. But you stood against me earlier. You and everyone else.”
