by Jodi McIsaac
They walked along the branch until they reached the trunk, which was so thick that the three of them wouldn’t be able to wrap their arms around it. A narrow staircase was carved into the trunk, spiraling upward. As they climbed it, Finn pointed out his favorite branches, one with a wicker cage where his pet gnome had lived and another that was strung with child-sized musical instruments. Dresses and robes in various shades of pinks and purples and yellows now hung from a few of the other branches.
“Riona’s been busy,” Finn said. “She still thinks this room is too boyish for Eden, but I think she’ll like it okay, don’t you?”
Cedar smiled at the uncertainty in his voice. “Are you kidding? This is like a dream come true for her. She loves climbing trees. There’s not a child alive who wouldn’t think this is the best room ever.”
At last they reached the top, where Eden and Riona were waiting for them, sitting on a sky blue cushion that was cradled in the tree’s uppermost branches. Cedar laughed when she saw that Riona was reading Eden’s copy of The Hobbit to her.
Eden had changed her clothes; she was wearing a moss-colored dress decorated with fine gold thread. It set off the olive tones in her skin and the gold flecks in her eyes. Her wavy brown hair was loose around her shoulders instead of in its usual ponytail. She looked older than usual, and though she had only arrived in Tír na nÓg a few hours ago, she already looked as though she belonged in this place.
“This is my bed, Daddy!” Eden said with a giggle.
“I know,” Finn said, grinning. “You look beautiful, baby.” Cedar could feel the pride and joy emanating from him. She knew how much it meant to him to have them both here in his ancestral home.
Riona was beaming too. “I showed her where her clothes are, and the books and toys, and where she can wash. You quite like it, don’t you, Eden?”
“Yes! I love it!” Eden said.
Riona stood up. “I didn’t show her the bell yet,” she said to Finn. “How about you bring Eden and Cedar to your new room, and then we’ll talk once you’re done looking around.” She gave Cedar’s arm a quick squeeze before heading down the spiral staircase.
“What bell?” Eden asked, her eyes wide.
“Well, this is where you’ll sleep,” Finn said. He reached over and picked up a small silver bell that was resting on a large green leaf beside Eden’s bed. “But if you need us for any reason, all you have to do is ring this little bell, and it will automatically transport you into our room. You could make a sidh, of course, but the bell is enchanted so that its sound will echo throughout our room as well, and it will give us a little, uh, warning that you’re coming. Want to try it?” He passed it to her, placing one hand on her shoulder and holding Cedar’s hand with the other. “Just give it a ring.”
Eden rang the bell softly, and Cedar felt herself grow warm all over, like she was being wrapped in a soft, heated blanket. The tree and the room around them grew dim and faded out of focus. Seconds later their surroundings came back into focus, but they were no longer in Eden’s room. They were in a field of poppies, huge flowers that came up to Cedar’s waist, waving in the gentle breeze as if in greeting. A cacophony of color spread out before them—reds and purples and oranges and yellows, with their bright, fuzzy green stems. On a sudden impulse Cedar bent down and took off her shoes. The grass was as soft as the plushest carpet, and the sky above was bright blue and dotted with puffy clouds. She could hear birds singing and a waterfall in the distance. The field of poppies ended at the edge of a wood, out of which flowed a stream of clear water that danced and glittered in the sun.
Cedar felt tears springing to her eyes. “I love poppies,” she whispered, barely able to speak.
“I know,” Finn said. “I remembered all the poppies you painted on the bedroom wall at your old apartment, so I thought you might like this.”
“I do,” she said, lost for more words. They walked through the field, past a long table surrounded by woven chairs with bright blue cushions.
“The dining room,” Finn noted with a grin.
Eden was running pell-mell through the field of poppies, spinning in circles and falling on the soft grass. She squealed with laughter every time she fell, then jumped up and spun again.
They entered the wood, a welcoming collection of oaks, beeches, alders, and birches. The light dimmed as they followed a gently curving path through the trees.
“This reminds me of Narnia,” Eden said, catching up to them.
Finn smiled. “Many humans believe that there must be worlds beyond their own and have tried to imagine what these otherworlds might look like. A few humans have even been to Tír na nÓg over the years.”
“Maybe the man who wrote Narnia visited here, and he copied it!” Eden said.
“I don’t think so. It has been a long, long time since a human stepped foot in Tír na nÓg. But sometimes the veil between the worlds grows thin, and humans are able to catch a glimpse of Tír na nÓg in a dream, or in a particularly magical place. Speaking of magical places…” Finn gave Cedar a tender look as they reached a clearing. There was a wide, smooth pond with lily pads floating on the surface and a large willow tree dipping its branches into the water’s edge. She could see the glittering shapes of fish swimming languidly through the water. Eden immediately ran to the pond and knelt down, admiring the fish and giving them all names.
Next to the pond was the most beautiful bed that Cedar had ever seen. It was made of some gleaming white material she didn’t recognize. It was as polished as marble, but she knew at a glance that it would be soft to the touch, not hard and cold. The frame curved and twisted into intricate, never-ending knots. The linens were white too, and almost incandescent. They looked so delicate that she was sure they would tear at the lightest touch. She walked over to the bed and ran her hand along the covers. It was like touching a cloud. She felt her cheeks grow warm at the thought of the nights she and Finn would spend in this bed.
“What do you think, Honey Lime?” Finn asked.
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“No one’s perfect,” he replied. “But maybe, just maybe… I’m perfect for you.”
Cedar reached up and kissed him. “You are,” she whispered.
At times she wondered how she could have managed so many long years without him. But she knew how. She had shut her heart away behind walls of bravado and stubborn independence. She’d gone through the motions, building her career, spending time with friends, and raising Eden as a single mother. But life had been all about the business of daily survival, a dull, mechanical forward march through time. Eden had been the only spot of color in her life, and she’d experienced no deep, lasting joy. In her quest to shield herself from pain, loneliness, and rejection, she’d also walled herself off from delight, gratitude, and meaning.
Eden’s disappearance and Finn’s return had woken her from her self-induced emotional coma, and she was determined never to go back. She wanted to experience everything life had to offer, and she wanted to embrace love, even while knowing loss could be lurking around the next corner. She wasn’t going to run anymore, not from anyone or anything. And that included Nuala.
“Let’s go find your mother,” Cedar said suddenly. “I want to know what she thinks about Nuala’s plan and how we can stop her.”
When they returned to the willow-lined enclosure, they found Riona sitting on a bench near the fountain. Her eyes were closed, as if she were meditating. Cedar marveled again at how young she looked. She ran a hand through her own hair absentmindedly, as though she might feel any gray strands. Then she chided herself for worrying about such things. There was nothing she could do to stop herself from aging, and there were larger issues at stake than her own mortality. When she heard them approaching, Riona opened her eyes and stood, and Eden ran over to her to tell her about the poppy fields and the pond of fish.
“What did you think? Do you like your new home?” Riona asked.
“It’s breathtaking,” Cedar admitted. “More beaut
iful than I could have imagined.”
Riona beamed. “I’m so glad,” she said. “Now come with me, we’ve arranged a little welcome party for you.”
“A welcome party? But shouldn’t we—” Cedar stopped, not wanting to mention Nuala around Eden.
“We’ll deal with that, yes,” Riona said with a knowing nod. “But there are many people who would like to see you first.”
Cedar gave Finn a look, but he just shrugged and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I think this will help us,” he said. “The more people we share our story with, the better.”
He had a point. The Council hadn’t seemed to care too much about their side of things, but if they could get enough people to support them, the Council members might be more inclined to listen.
They climbed back through the door that led to the common room. In the short time since they’d been there, it had been completely transformed from a cozy sitting room into an expansive atrium flooded with light. Bright banners hung from the ceiling, and a trio of instruments hovered in the corner. No one was playing them, but delightful music flowed from that part of the room, and the instruments quivered and swayed in time with it. Tables filled with food and drinks lined one long wall, and Cedar’s stomach growled at the tantalizing smells. “Whoa…,” Eden breathed, looking around with an open mouth.
In between the music and the tables was a crowd of people. A loud cheer went up when Cedar, Finn, and Eden entered the room. Cedar looked back at Riona, who shrugged innocently.
“It’s a welcome party,” she said. “At first we thought it might be limited to those of us you already know. But then word spread, and, well…” She gestured at the crowd, all of whom were looking at Cedar with great interest. “You saved a lot of lives, Cedar. I know your reception at the Council was less than warm, but to most people, you’re a hero.”
Cedar stared around in amazement. She hadn’t expected a hero’s welcome, but the animosity she’d experienced at the Council had given her second thoughts about even being part of this world. It felt good to know that so many of the Danann wanted her to be here in Tír na nÓg. It was exactly what she needed.
“Did you know about this?” she asked Finn. He tried to look innocent but then broke into a wide grin. “I wanted today to be special for you,” he said. “It didn’t go exactly as I had planned, but… we still have a lot to celebrate.” He tugged her into the crowd, where Riona was waiting to make introductions.
“Wait,” Cedar said. Someone had caught her eye across the room. She pulled away from Finn and made her way over to where Anya stood against the wall. “Hello, Anya,” she said.
Anya smiled at her, but her face was heavy with grief. Cedar couldn’t blame her. It had been only a few weeks since she’d lost her son Oscar in the battle against the Merrow. “Hello, Cedar,” Anya said. “I’m sorry about your loss. I know that Maeve meant a lot to you and Eden.”
“Thank you,” Cedar said. “How… how are you doing?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s difficult to see all of these souls who were brought back to life after Lorcan’s death, knowing that my son will never be one of them. But he died for a noble cause. I see that now,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve heard about Nuala and how the Council is thinking of making her our queen. I, for one, will die before that happens. You must challenge her, Cedar.”
“We will, somehow,” Cedar assured her, not knowing what else to say. “We’ll figure out a way to stop her.”
Anya looked at her quizzically. “‘Figure out a way’? You mean you’re not planning to claim the throne?”
“Is that what people are expecting?” Cedar asked. “Rohan mentioned it, but I didn’t really think he was serious. I thought Rohan might be a better contender, actually.”
Anya laughed—a short, bitter sound. “I think we did too good of a job on you, Cedar. We didn’t even want you involved with the search for your own daughter. ‘Just a human,’ we said. Now we want you to be our queen, and you don’t think yourself worthy.”
“I’m just being realistic,” Cedar said. “I want to stop Nuala more than anything, but I don’t think this is the way to do it.”
At that moment Anya’s other son, Sam, arrived with Nevan. “Hey, Cedar,” Nevan said. “Did Eden tell you about all the exploring we did?”
“Not yet,” Cedar said with a smile. “But she’s hardly had time to catch her breath. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it later. Where is she, anyway?”
“She’s with Felix,” Nevan answered, pointing over at the long tables of food. “He’s letting her try one of everything.”
“Thanks,” Cedar said, and headed in Eden’s direction. But before she could get too far, she was stopped by a group of people she didn’t know.
“Welcome to Tír na nÓg!” one of them said, grabbing her hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “I knew your father. He was a great king. And your mother was a wonderful woman too.” The others in the circle nodded and murmured their agreement. “We’re sure that you’ll make a wonderful queen. The Council can hardly refuse you! Brogan’s blood runs in your veins.”
Once again, Cedar found herself at a loss for words. “I’m not sure—” she started, and was mercifully rescued by Riona, who wrapped her arm through Cedar’s and led her away after making their excuses.
“I’d like you to meet my friend Seisyll,” Riona said, leading Cedar over to a robust woman whose hair was pulled back in a series of tight twists that emphasized her sharp facial features. “You met her husband, Gorman, at the Council.”
“Oh, yes! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cedar said.
Seisyll grabbed Cedar’s hand and clutched it tightly in her own. “You have no idea what you have done,” she said fervently. “You not only saved my husband, but you’ve given us all a second chance.”
“Oh… um, thank you,” Cedar said. She was beginning to feel like she was an actor in a play and that she was the only one who hadn’t been given the script.
“Can I get you a drink?” Seisyll asked, and before Cedar could respond, she waved her hand in the air. A crystal goblet filled with wine soared toward them, pausing just in front of Cedar, who reached out and plucked it from the air.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “How did you—”
“We all have our special gifts,” Seisyll said, floating a plate of food toward them as well. “But what was I saying? Ah, yes. I was just telling Riona that she and her friends put us to shame. We should have joined the resistance too, but we weren’t foresighted enough. By the time we realized our mistake, it was too late. And then Gorman was taken in for questioning—they knew about our friendship with Rohan and Riona, of course—and he never came back out. Until you arrived, that is,” Seisyll said, squeezing Cedar’s arm.
“Those idiots on the Council need to have their heads knocked together—look at the welcome they’ve given you! What do we want with a world like Ériu, anyway? We were only there for a few hundred years—we weren’t the first to conquer it, nor the last. We hardly have a ‘claim’ to it, as they say. And, really, while I’m sure Ériu is lovely, it surely cannot possibly compare to Tír na nÓg, even now. What are your thoughts, dear?”
“Uh… well, they are both very beautiful, I suppose, in their own way,” Cedar answered. Finn had walked over to join them and had wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Well, I say it’s the very best thing that could have happened, you coming here,” interjected Seisyll. “Both when that monster was still in power and now. You’re the only one who can help us, Cedar. Surely you must realize that.”
“Actually, I think there are others who might be better suited for leadership,” Cedar said, starting to feel like a broken record.
“Cedar isn’t entirely convinced that she’s the right person for the job,” Finn told Seisyll.
“Not the right person?” the woman exclaimed, her voice traveling up an octave. “Whatever do you mean? Don’t you und
erstand what’s at stake here? You have the strongest claim to the throne of any of us. Brogan and Kier were adored. And your daughter has the gift of opening the sidhe, which means that if it weren’t for that pesky human thing, you would surely have it too! That’s a very good sign. You were meant to be the queen, just like your father was the king.”
“Really, Mum?” Eden asked, and Cedar jumped, not realizing that Eden had joined them. “You’re going to be the queen?”
“No, I’m not,” Cedar protested, shooting the rest of them a warning glance. “I understand the need to deal with you-know-who, believe me, but I really don’t think this is even an option. The Council wouldn’t give me the time of day, and we’re wasting our time if we think there’s a chance they’d appoint me as queen. Yes, my father was king, but I never knew him, and I know nothing about your world or your people. That makes me the least qualified person here!”
To her surprise, Seisyll threw back her head and laughed. “When did being qualified have anything to do with it? Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’re very qualified—you’re brave, intelligent, and stubborn. That’s all you need to rule this lot. But you’re also the only one among us who truly understands what it’s like to be human.” She glanced down at Eden before continuing, patting the girl on the head. “He wasn’t the only one who despised humans, you know. There are others like him—too many if you ask me—who think that humans are only ants to be crushed.
“People wonder why the land’s not healing itself now that he’s gone. But the prophecy just spoke of ‘poison’—and I think there’s still plenty of that hanging around. Your job here isn’t done. Having someone like you on the throne could do a lot to correct the damage that was caused by you-know-who, not just to our land but to our people. Having her on the throne will only make it worse.”
Cedar remembered the prophecy well. The dyad that should not be will rise from the ashes and purge the land of the coming poison. They had thought Eden was the dyad, but it was Maeve who had realized the truth, and almost too late. It was Cedar—both human and Danann—who had been able to defeat Lorcan.
