by Jodi McIsaac
Taking in Nevan’s words, Cedar frowned. “What needs sorting out?” she asked. Nevan stood up abruptly, her playful smile sliding from her face.
After a moment of silence, Riona was the one who spoke. “Eden, why don’t you show Molly what you brought from home? Are there any stuffed animals in your backpack?” she asked. Molly took the hint and knelt down beside Eden, who had already starting pulling toys and books out of her bag. Moving a few paces away, Riona signaled for the others to follow her. When they were far enough that they could speak privately, she said, “I’m sorry to have to ruin your first day here with bad news. Nuala has returned.”
“Returned,” Cedar repeated, her heart seizing. “From where?”
“From wherever she was hiding,” Riona answered. “She has presented herself to the Council and made them an offer they are finding difficult to refuse. You’ve come just in time to stop them.”
“Stop them from what?” Cedar asked.
“They’re going to make her queen.”
Cedar’s legs and lungs were burning by the time they arrived at the Hall. The great building was as imposing as ever, its twisting white spires piercing the sky, their colored banners hanging limp against the dull backdrop. She shuddered at the memory of this place. Finn put his hand on her arm as they approached the main entrance. “Just wait a moment,” he said, “and catch your breath.” He didn’t look tired at all, and Cedar was reminded of how frail—how human—she was compared to everyone else in this world.
She was baffled by Riona’s revelation. Why would the Council want to make Nuala queen? Nuala had tried to help Lorcan. She was the enemy. She must be using her power of persuasion on them, but surely the Council of the Tuatha Dé Danann would not be so easily deceived.
Riona had urged Cedar and Finn to go to the Council without delay. Finn’s father, Rohan, would be waiting for them there. In the meantime, Nevan had offered to show Eden around before bringing her to her new home, where Riona would get her settled in. Cedar had been reluctant to leave her daughter behind, but Eden had seemed perfectly happy to stay with her new friends.
Cedar drew in another deep breath and wiped a few beads of sweat from her forehead. “Remember,” Finn said. “You are the daughter of Brogan and Kier. You are one of us, and you killed Lorcan.”
“Technically, you killed Lorcan,” Cedar pointed out.
Finn cupped her flushed face in his hands. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you… all of us would be. You’re the bravest person I know. I don’t think she’ll try anything, not with the Council around, but even if she does, she can’t use her power on me, remember? I’ll stay right by your side, and I’ll help you resist her.” He paused. “I know it’s going to be hard to be near her,” he said. “Believe me, Cedar, I want to rip her apart with my bare hands, and I will if I get the chance. But if she’s under the Council’s protection, we can’t touch her. Not now. But you don’t need to be afraid of her.”
“I’m not afraid,” Cedar said. “I’m angry.” Eyes flashing, she straightened up and walked briskly through the entrance to the Hall. They passed several other Danann as they made their way to the center courtyard. No one tried to stop them, though several stared, and some called out greetings. Cedar felt bolstered by this. They had friends here.
They finally reached the soaring marble arches and stately birch trees that surrounded the spacious courtyard. The members of the Council were sitting on carved wooden chairs in a small circle in the center of the courtyard. There were eight of them, five men and three women, all of them elegantly dressed, though their faces were drawn and pale. A few Danann were in the courtyard as well, sitting on small white chairs arranged outside the circle or milling around amid the arches. Cedar’s eyes skimmed over them without taking much notice—she was looking for only one person.
And then she saw her. Nuala was sitting on one of the thin white chairs just outside the Council circle, wearing a long ivory dress trimmed with gold, her flaming red hair loose around her shoulders. Delicate strands of ivy were woven throughout her tresses, something Cedar was sure would look ridiculous on just about anyone else. On Nuala, it looked regal. She wasn’t bound or restrained in any way, and she looked quite relaxed as she sat there smiling at the members of the Council who were facing her.
Cedar felt as if hot lava had been poured into her stomach. She almost doubled over with the intensity of her hatred for this woman who had endangered her daughter’s life and killed her adoptive mother. She struggled to regain control, well aware that Nuala could use even this hatred against her. The Council members stirred at their arrival, and a tall, handsome man who had been pacing the courtyard rushed over to them.
“Fionnbharr, Cedar, you have arrived,” he said.
Cedar looked more closely at the man, who was wearing deep green robes that did nothing to hide his powerful build. “Rohan?” she asked in disbelief. Like his wife, he appeared thirty years younger than when Cedar had last seen him.
“Aye, aye, it’s me,” he said gruffly.
“What’s going on?” she started to ask. “Why is—”
“Not now,” he interrupted. Then he turned to the Council. “May I present my son Fionnbharr, who slew Lorcan with his own sword. And this is Cedar, daughter of Brogan and Kier, who gave her own life to secure our freedom from that tyrant.”
Cedar looked around at the faces in the circle. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Some of the members of the Council leaned forward to get a better look at her, others raised their eyebrows, as if they, too, had been expecting something more. A couple leaned toward each other to exchange whispers. Only one stood. A short, stocky man with curly brown hair strode over to her, knelt, and kissed her hand.
“I owe you my life,” he said as he stood. “I was one of the souls freed by your sacrifice. It is a gift I can never repay.”
“Cedar, this is Gorman. He was killed by Lorcan a few years ago for his shield of protection. I think you are familiar with it?” Rohan said.
Cedar took an instinctive step back. “Do not fear,” Gorman said quickly. “It activates only on my command. I was a fool to let my guard down around that monster. I don’t deserve a second chance but am grateful for it all the same.” He bowed at Cedar again and then resumed his seat in the circle.
Another member of the Council, a tall, reedy woman with thin blonde hair that fell past her waist, nodded at Cedar but did not stand. “So this is the human to whom we owe our thanks,” she said. Though her words were gracious, she did not smile, and her lip curled up slightly when she spoke.
“Cedar is not human. She is one of us, a Tuatha Dé Danann and the daughter of the High King,” Finn said. Rohan shot him a warning glance.
The woman inclined her head slightly in Finn’s direction, as if to acknowledge that he had, indeed, spoken. “Yes, one of us, I suppose, though quite masked in humanity. She clearly has no Lýra. Tell me, is she immortal?”
Cedar could sense Finn shifting nervously beside her. It was clear that he hadn’t been expecting an inquisition. She stepped forward. “To be honest, I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose only time will tell, quite literally. And it’s true that I don’t have the Lýra, but that was done to hide me from Lorcan. I have killed him and have returned home to be with my people.”
The blonde woman gazed at Cedar steadily. “You did kill him,” she agreed. “And I believe few of us will miss him. His aims were noble and just, but his ways were… brutish, shall we say?”
“‘His aims were noble and just’?” Cedar repeated incredulously, ignoring the pressure of Finn’s hand on her arm. “His aim was to destroy humanity. There’s nothing noble about that!”
“Spoken like a true… human,” Nuala said, rising to her feet. The folds of her gown fell to the floor, and she looked like a bride on her wedding day as she walked confidently into the center of the circle. “Hello again, Cedar. I was so happy to hear that you were alive.”
“
What’s she doing here?” Cedar said through gritted teeth, unable to restrain herself any longer. “Don’t you know who this woman is? What she’s done?”
“The Council has heard Nuala’s position,” said another member of the Council, a huge, strongly built man with a dark goatee.
“What position could she possibly have?”
“Oh, Cedar,” Nuala said, shaking her head. “I feel so sorry for you. You’ve been through so much, I understand how upsetting this must all be. Can someone bring Cedar a chair? She’s looking rather frail.” Cedar ignored the proffered chair and glared at Nuala, who continued. “You’ve been horribly misinformed, I’m afraid. Let me explain, just like I did to the Council. It’s true that I brought Eden here, but it was because I—like many others—believed she was the dyad, the answer to the prophecy. With all due respect to Ruadhan”—she nodded in Rohan’s direction—“I found his leadership weak. I did not think he would have what it took to bring the child here and challenge Lorcan. So I did it myself. Like everyone, I believed the lie Ruadhan spread.… I thought that Lorcan had been unable to absorb the gift of the sidhe when Brogan died. I never imagined that he might want to kill Eden.”
Cedar looked disbelievingly around at the members of the Council, most of whom were listening intently, even nodding. She glanced at Finn, whose brow was deeply furrowed. “Is she…?” Cedar asked.
“I don’t think so,” he answered in an undertone. “She doesn’t seem to be using her ability—not now, at least. But she’s also naturally persuasive.”
Rohan cleared his throat. “The Council knows where I stand. We’re all aware that Fionnghuala has a silver tongue and can persuade those around her to see the world as she would have them see it. But I am immune to such power and have borne witness to her actions, which reveal her true character.”
The Council member with the goatee spoke up again, standing this time. He was a head taller than any of the others in the courtyard, and Cedar could see his muscles straining beneath his robes. He looked like someone you would not want to anger. “Yes, but we have used the goblet of Manannan mac Lir, which you returned to us. She tells the truth—she acted in what she thought were the best interests of our land and people. And she did not intend for the child to die.”
“She brought the child here to help Lorcan, not to fight him,” Rohan argued.
“She was Lorcan’s prisoner,” said the blonde woman.
“Then why did she run as soon as he was killed?” Finn interjected.
Nuala stepped forward. “Perhaps it’s time we look to the future, instead of dwelling on the past,” she said in a silky voice. “Has the Council considered my proposal?”
“What proposal?” Gorman, the man who had kissed Cedar’s hand, looked at his fellow Council members in confusion.
“Ah, yes, you were absent when she first approached us,” said the tall, reedy blonde. “Fionnghuala, would you care to repeat what you told the rest of us? I’m sure our newcomers will be interested as well.”
Nuala smiled ingratiatingly. “Gladly, Sorcha. The goblet of Manannan mac Lir does not lie. My intentions were—and are—noble. I had hoped that the child Eden could fulfill the prophecy by returning me here to Tír na nÓg, where my people were in great need. While I was on Ériu I realized that my ability could be used to defeat Lorcan, whose bloodlust was a danger to us all. I hoped to use my gift to persuade him away from an all-out war against the humans—a war that he did not seem to understand would have been far more difficult than the ones we fought with them millennia ago. The humans have grown numerous, and are well armed. I had a different plan, and still do—a plan that will give us what we deserve without sacrificing the lives of our people in a long, drawn-out war for which we were poorly prepared.
“My plan would have worked but for Gorman’s shield of protection. I went through great trials to return home and was dismayed to discover that Lorcan was immune to my power. I became his prisoner, but I did not give up hope. He kept me close because of my knowledge of the rebels. I knew he’d eventually lower his guard around me, and then I’d be able to convince him to change his ways, and save our people. But before I could do so, Eden’s human mother arrived and did what only she could have done—used her druid-given gift and sacrificed herself, destroying Lorcan. She has been reunited with her child, which is exactly what she wanted.” Nuala paused for a moment and nodded graciously at Cedar, who stared stonily back at her. Then Nuala swept around the circle, her voice rising dramatically.
“Now we need to start rebuilding our great society. I ask that you consider my plan: Crown me your queen, and I will use my ability to convince the humans to make war—on each other. Not a drop of Danann blood need be spilled. Indeed, the humans are nearing the brink of another catastrophic world war even now. A few well-placed words in the right ears will tip the balance. I will encourage them to use weapons that will not damage the land, so once they are done destroying their own kind, we can claim what is rightfully ours. Why fight the humans when they are so willing to fight each other?”
Nuala cast her piercing green eyes around the circle. “There is one more thing,” she said. “I was not idle during my time on Ériu. I made contact with several key druids and gained their respect and trust. The druids have agreed to return to Tír na nÓg to live alongside us as they once did, contributing their considerable skills to the rebuilding of our land. While we are settling Ériu, they will try restoring Tír na nÓg to its former splendor. If they succeed, we will have dominion over both worlds.”
For a moment, there was complete silence. Then Gorman asked, “And what, exactly, do they want in return?”
Nuala’s voice was steady and full of confidence. “Nothing more than the knowledge that someone they know and trust is on the throne. They will come back—when I am queen.”
Cedar had heard enough. “Say something,” she hissed at Finn. “They respect you more than me. They’ll listen to you!”
But it was Rohan who cleared his throat and approached the circle. Nuala regarded him coolly, but he didn’t even look at her as he addressed the Council. “Hear me, and accept my words as truth. This woman has been part of my company for the past two decades, and I know her well. She despises humans as much as Lorcan did. Their means may be different, but their goals are the same and equally despicable: the destruction of a race that has no quarrel with ours. The humans won Ériu as their own thousands of years ago. This is our home now, and it requires our care and attention. We should leave the humans in peace and focus all of our abilities on healing our own land.”
Another of the Council stood, a man with a swarthy complexion and a long black beard. “You have become soft, Ruadhan. The humans may have won their last battle with us, but there’s no reason why we should not win the next one. Why should we remain defeated forever? Perhaps our time in Tír na nÓg is over. I, for one, would not waste the druids’ skills here. With our strength and with the druids by our side, we can create a new Tír na nÓg on Ériu, as splendid as in the days of our fathers.”
“You would wipe out an entire race for a better garden?” Gorman exclaimed, rising to Rohan’s defense. “Give our land some time; it has not yet been a month since the poisoner was defeated. We must be patient. We must not abandon this land that has given us so much.”
“And what if the land never heals?” asked a curvy woman with dark auburn hair and milky-white skin. “We cannot stay in this barren place forever. What about our children? We must bring the druids back. Their skill with the land is unquestionable. Give them a chance, and if they fail, we should do as Fionnghuala has suggested and reclaim Ériu.”
Cedar stared aghast at the members of the Council, most of whom were now standing and arguing loudly. She shook off Finn’s arm, which had been wrapped around her shoulders, and strode into the center of the circle to stand beside Rohan.
“No,” she said firmly. To her surprise, the arguing voices trailed off and went silent. She took a deep breath and con
tinued. “This woman kidnapped a child—my child, Rohan’s granddaughter and the granddaughter of the last true High King. She didn’t do it for the benefit of your people. She did it to save her own skin. Maybe she’s telling the truth when she says that she didn’t think Lorcan would kill Eden, but that doesn’t negate the fact that she captured an innocent child and put her in danger to achieve her own ends. Lorcan would have killed Eden if I hadn’t intervened. Think about it,” she urged. “Do you really want someone with Nuala’s ability ruling over you? She could have whatever she wants, whenever she wants it.” She stopped, breathing heavily, and waited for a response.
After a moment, the blonde reedy woman whom Nuala had called Sorcha stepped forward. “We have known Fionnghuala for many years, and she has not once used her gift for her own benefit. Do not presume to tell us what to do. We will consider her proposal. Now leave us. There is much to discuss.”
Cedar turned to Rohan, looking for his support. But he just shook his head. “We’d best leave,” he said. “The Council must deliberate.”
Cedar felt fire burning in the pit of her stomach again. “You’re making a huge mistake,” she snarled, and then turned abruptly and walked out of the circle, her body rigid and her head held high. She knew Finn and Rohan were keeping pace behind her, but she kept on walking until she was outside the Hall. The cold, dry air hit her in the face, and she finally stopped, breathing hard.
“We have to go back,” she said, swiveling around to face Finn and his father. “We need to talk to them alone, when Nuala’s not there.”
Rohan exhaled loudly and reached out a hand to stop her. “I wish it were that simple, Cedar. I’ve always hated the politics of this place. Brogan was able to keep all of these egos in line, but…,” he trailed off, his expression cloudy.
