Faery Tales: Six Novellas of Magic and Adventure (Faery Worlds Book 3)

by Phaedra Weldon

  Our somewhat awkward conversation didn’t last, however. Barely ten minutes in, it was disturbed by a light knock at the door.

  “That’s probably Meghan,” I noted, swallowing the last bit of egg on my plate and taking a quick drink of tea to wash it all down. I stood to get the door and found a bright-eyed Meghan standing on the other side. She was wearing her clothes from the mortal world and had on a rain coat, the persistent precipitation beading on the impermeable material before rolling off.

  “Morning,” she said, with a cautious smile. “Mind if I join you two?”

  “Not at all!” Enorah stated, sliding into one of the chairs. “Help yourself to some muffins. I’d offer you eggs as well, but Cade ate them all.”

  Meghan eyed the sizeable pile of egg shells beside the sink and then turned with raised eyebrows to give me a look of surprise.

  I glared at my sister. “I did not. I only ate three quarters of them. Enorah ate the rest.”

  Meghan snorted a laugh and reached for a muffin. “This is great, thanks.”

  The fragile tension hovering between Enorah and me evaporated after Meghan joined us. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed it was there until she arrived, but I was glad when it was gone. Whatever had been on Enorah’s mind last night must have also vanished to that place where dark recollections remain buried, because for the rest of the day she behaved like her usual, affable self. By noon, the rain had tapered off to nothing more than a drizzle. Although Enorah was still unable to run her practice drills, she talked Meghan into working with the younger children who had yet to discover their glamour.

  We gathered together under the trees with the most leaves to keep the light rain off, and Meghan patiently described to a small crowd of wide-eyed children how her glamour hadn’t shown itself until she was well past childhood. She then gave them a very mild version of her long battle with the Morrigan and how she had had to rely mostly on instinct to get her glamour to aid her. By the end of her lesson, the children seemed more at ease and less forlorn than they had appeared upon first arrival. Meghan beamed at me, thrilled to have been able to make some difference to them.

  That night, we enjoyed a more private dinner in Enorah’s cabin, playing cards and spending quality time together. But like the past few days, the hours moved quickly, and it was soon time to say goodnight.

  “I do wish you could visit Luathara more often, sister,” I said, as Meghan and I stood to seek our own cottage.

  Enorah let out a long breath. “I know. Someday I’ll be able to leave this place for an extended period of time and not feel as if the forest will burn down while I’m gone.”

  She gave me and Meghan a cheeky grin before crossing her arms and growing more serious. “So, I’ll need a dress for this wedding then,” she stated.

  Meghan flinched. Enorah was not, in the least, a dress wearing kind of girl, but she surprised me when she said with a soft smile, “I wouldn’t mind getting dressed up for you two. And some of the older girls here are quite good at mending and sewing. I’ll commission them to make something for me. They will be thrilled.”

  Meghan lunged forward and gave my sister a tight hug. Enorah coughed in surprise. “Thank you, Enorah,” she said roughly. “And it doesn’t have to be too fancy.”

  Enorah gently pushed her away just far enough to look her in the eye. “It will be the fanciest dress I own, Meghan.”

  Meghan snorted. “Of course it will be. You have no other dresses to compare it to.”

  She laughed, pleased that Meghan had understood her joke. Enorah bid us goodbye then, claiming she had the night watch and would be going to bed before we left the next morning.

  “Stay safe, the both of you,” she murmured, pulling us into a fierce hug. “And I can’t wait until the bonding ceremony.”

  As Meghan and I walked back to our cabin in the waxing twilight, Meghan linked her arm with mine and leaned in close to me, her face upturned and her eyes shining.

  “What?” I murmured.

  She shrugged and bit her bottom lip. “Nothing.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I knew that look on her face. There was something she found amusing, and I wanted to know what it was.

  “Tell me,” I demanded, pinning her hands against the small of her back and moving in close.

  Meghan gasped, but not in pain or fear. I gave her a smug look.

  I know you can’t resist my charms, I sent, using shil-sciar.

  In answer, Meghan turned sultry eyes up to mine, and my strength diminished. Suddenly, I wasn’t a Faelorehn warrior ready for battle, but one who stood drained of power in the aftermath.

  Okay, I’ll tell you, but it isn’t all that scintillating. She fluttered her eyelashes, and my mouth went suddenly dry. Good thing our cabin was only a few feet away.

  I’m waiting, I insisted.

  She stood up on her tiptoes, licked her bottom lip and whispered into my ear, “I was just imagining what Enorah might look like in a dress.”

  And just like that, the tantalizing image of Meghan I’d been building up in my head vanished and in its place stood Enorah, tapping her foot and shaking her head at me. She wore a dress, but it was modeled after her usual practice clothes and not at all what a Maid of Honor might wear to a wedding. I should have been disturbed by the whole thing, but Meghan’s response had caught me by surprise. The image of my sister was so comical, I ended up barking out a laugh and releasing Meghan at the same time.

  She laughed as well, taking advantage of her freedom and darting toward the cabin door, pulling it open and running inside.

  “That was cruel, mohr faelorah,” I whispered to the night air, feeling my wild glamour build up to a low smolder once again. I grinned and revisited that image I’d created of Meghan. “And you will pay for your cruelty.”

  Without another thought, I quickly bolted after her, closing the door behind me and daring the world to even try to disturb us for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Four

  Carnogh

  CADE

  We left early the next morning, intent on reaching the Dagda’s before nightfall. Meghan and I couldn’t travel by foot, it was too far a distance, so we, once again, had to return to Luathara to get the horses. Fergus and Meridian joined us a half a mile outside of the village of the Wildren and then loped and flew ahead. They had interesting places to explore and potential enemies to look out for.

  Meghan and I took our time heading back to the dolmarehn above Lake Ohll. To my great relief, and Meghan’s as well, the rain had stopped long enough for us to make our journey. Nevertheless, there were plenty of puddles to avoid, and the trail was one long ribbon of slick mud. On more than one occasion, I had to reach out and steady Meghan, and I had a few close calls myself.

  “I would say that visit went well,” Meghan commented, once we were clear of the forest.

  I nodded my assent. I hadn’t expected Enorah to be unhappy about our engagement, but there was always the possibility of her being somewhat chafed at losing her baby brother to another woman. We had been each other’s only family for so long, I anticipated a little resistance on her part. What I hadn’t expected was her sudden compulsion to open up in front of Meghan the night I had checked the perimeter for her. True, what she’d said was a mere glimpse into the dark well of her past, a well so deep I doubted Meghan got much of a feel for what dwelt at the bottom. Even I wasn’t certain what she had been referring to. Still, it had been enough to nip at the back of my mind for the past day. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of that. What Enorah and I had experienced under the tyranny of the Morrigan, we kept locked away in a place inside our minds no one could reach. Most of those memories, we didn’t even discuss with each other. And those were the sorts of lingering nightmares I would not be repeating to Meghan. She didn’t need to share that particular burden with me. She was too bright and beautiful, and I wouldn’t let that darkness touch her.

  Briant, Melvina and their children were waiting for us when
we returned to the castle, and I was forced to leave my dismal thoughts for a later time. Meghan and I stayed for a quick lunch, caving to Melvina’s fussing while catching them all up on the news from the mortal world and the Weald.

  “It was so good to see my parents and brothers,” Meghan said with a smile as she finished up one of Melvina’s hearty sandwiches. “I just wish they could come to the ceremony.”

  “We can always have a second one in the mortal world,” I pointed out.

  Meghan grinned and shook her head. “Not now. Maybe later, when I’m older and my friends aren’t all away at school.”

  I nodded and got to work finishing up my own meal. An hour later we were riding Lasair and Speirling toward the massive dolmarehn that would drop us on the outskirts of the Dagda’s vast realm. Even though we had made good time, the late afternoon sun bathed the towering hills surrounding my foster father’s home in golden light.

  The Dagda, in his usual fashion, greeted us with great cheer and a large helping of fanfare.

  “Caedehn! Meghan! I received your letter just the other day saying you planned on stopping by on your way to Erintara. Is everything well with you and the high queen, Meghan?”

  The Dagda turned his kind blue eyes onto Meghan, and she only beamed. “Oh, there is nothing the matter, as far as I know. We just wanted to drop by here first because we have some good news.”

  The jovial god’s pale red eyebrows shot into his hairline.

  “What sort of good news?” he insisted.

  Meghan removed one of her hands from his and reached it out to clasp mine. “Cade has asked me to marry him.”

  A sudden outcry of feminine voices swept through the grand entrance hall, all of the Celtic god’s female companions unable to hold back their excitement. The Dagda, looking almost frantic, waved an arm to shush them, then turned wide eyes back onto Meghan.

  “And how did you answer him?” he demanded, his face tight with anticipation.

  “Dagda!” Meghan gasped in mock outrage, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. “I said yes, of course!”

  His bearded face split in a huge grin, and he scooped Meghan up, hugging her close and doing a little dance.

  “That’s enough,” I chastised warmly, trying to get her free from his constricting hold.

  That was a mistake. My foster father set Meghan down and greeted me in the same fashion. I tried very hard to keep my pride intact as he twirled around, holding me tight the way a young girl holds a doll she adores. When the Dagda put me down, both Meghan and I were swarmed by the women who had gathered around. They fussed over Meghan, asking her what color dress she would wear, if we planned on getting married at Erintara, where we were going on our honeymoon … Meghan answered them each patiently and with good humor. When Alannah offered to prepare a bath for her upstairs, Meghan cast me a pleading look.

  I smiled and pulled her in for a quick kiss. “Go, enjoy your bath. The Dagda and I will meet you afterward for dinner.”

  “Just come and fetch us from my study when you are done!” my foster father called out as Alannah and the others herded her up the stairs.

  With Meghan gone, the Dagda turned and regarded me with sparkling eyes.

  “Alright, out with it,” I demanded, crossing my arms and drawing up to my full height. This particular Tuatha De Danann happened to be taller than me.

  “Out with what?” he responded, with an air of innocence.

  “I know you have something to say about this news. I’m ready to hear it. I told you so, What took you so long? You are the luckiest Faelorehn man in Eile, and so on and so forth.”

  “You are the luckiest Faelorehn man in Eile,” he agreed. “And although all those other things are true, there is no point in saying them. The fact is you finally got your head out of your arse and proposed.”

  The Dagda clapped me on both shoulders with his massive hands, making my teeth clatter together.

  “But enough of this bandying about in the hallway. Let’s retreat to my study where we won’t be disturbed.”

  Nodding, I followed after him, feeling oddly nervous for some reason. The Dagda had been the only father figure I had ever known, after all. His approval and acceptance meant the world to me, and although he loved Meghan dearly, he also knew what being her mother’s daughter entailed. Meghan wasn’t just any Faelorehn young woman, she was a princess, the high queen’s eldest child. Thinking of Danua, and remembering Erintara was the next and final stop on our list, made my stomach turn. Although Danua had come to be more accepting of me, there was still a rift between us. I was hoping to fix that, somehow and some way, in a day or two when we left the Dagda’s abode for Eile’s capital city.

  Until then, I would try my best to enjoy the Dagda’s warm company and pleasant mood. The long hallway eventually opened out into a large, spacious, circular room. Several windows were placed in the far wall, the cinereous light from outside spilling onto the colorful carpets underfoot and highlighting the gold leafed paintings hanging on the walls. To the right and left, there were four sets of doors. The Dagda chose the first one on the right and held it open for me to step in. A comfortable room decorated in dark cherry furniture and rich red, gold and russet hues waited for us. A couch and two stuffed chairs sat on the sunken floor before a wide fireplace, and a cherry wood desk was perched a step up in front of a ceiling to floor window. The cozy setting was finished off with a tall bookcase to the left of the desk.

  “This is the room I brought Meghan to the night you abandoned her to Drustan o’Ceallaigh, do you remember?” the Dagda commented in a cheery voice as he shut the door.

  I shot him an acidic look before taking a seat in one of the chairs flanking the couch.

  My foster father sighed, as if recalling some nostalgic memory, then stepped toward the bookcase.

  “Yes, she was very upset that night,” he mused, pulling a crystal decanter and two heavy tumblers from behind a small glass door. “But I guess that was to be expected, considering all she had been through up until that point.”

  I ignored most of this because I already knew about it. For some reason, the Dagda insisted on reminding me of Meghan’s misery, and I couldn’t yet decide why.

  “Would you like some merynth?” he asked, holding up the decanter. “Imported from the Amsihr Mountains.”

  I turned in my seat, my arms still crossed over my chest, and lifted one curious eyebrow. The golden green liquid glowed like a gem in its transparent vessel, and I couldn’t help recalling the time Enorah and I, as well as a handful of her older Wildren, ventured into the famed mountains in search of a draghan. The Maithar, the leader of the Amsihria, had offered us merynth. Just as I had then, I would not turn down the rare wine now.

  Casting aside my broodiness, I said, “I would like some, thank you.”

  Glass and crystal clinked together as the Dagda quickly filled two tumblers. He returned the decanter to its safe place and then walked over to the couch, handing me my merynth before taking a seat.

  “To the upcoming nuptials,” he crooned, holding his glass high.

  I tapped the edge of my tumbler to his and then took a sip, savoring the hint of citrus as the liquid burned down my throat.

  “So, was there a purpose behind bringing up that particular shortcoming with regards to Meghan?” I asked blandly and without preamble.

  The Dagda, who had been taking a second sip of his merynth, choked. It took him a few moments to regain his composure, something I found a tiny bit satisfying.

  “Is that what you think I was doing?” he asked when he had finally cleared his throat. His eyes were unusually bright, and his face a shade or two redder than before.

  “I don’t know what you were trying to do,” I admitted, carefully sampling the wine again.

  The Dagda, who had been exuding an undercurrent of mischief since the moment Meghan and I arrived, suddenly became serious. He set his glass onto the small table in front of the couch and leveled his blue eyes on me. I held
his gaze with just as much determination. I would not back down from him. If he thought I wasn’t good enough for Meghan, or believed I had purposely harmed her, then he could tell me in a straightforward fashion.

  My foster father was the first to look away, but I got the distinct impression he was in no way yielding victory to me. His eyes were trained on the fire, and after a brief moment, he took a breath and let it out on a small sigh. It was such an insignificant action, I almost missed it.

  “You don’t remember when Enorah first brought you here, do you?”

  The question, delivered in a soft tone, came as a surprise.

  “No,” I answered automatically.

  The Dagda smiled and returned his eyes to mine. “She was very young herself, just under the age of fourteen, if I remember correctly. You, my boy, had not yet seen two winters. She showed up on my doorstep, all skinny limbs and curly hair and fierce eyes. What fierce eyes she had! I knew right away she was Cuchulainn’s daughter. And then, she pushed you forward, and I saw your face for the first time. You were nothing but brilliant green eyes and red hair, and you shone just as fiercely as your sister. When she asked me, no, begged me, to take you in, I had wanted to keep her as well. But she told me she couldn’t stay. She had to go somewhere, do something, and I had to watch over you.”

  A darkness fell over the Dagda’s eyes, and I felt my own heart constrict. I didn’t know all the details of my sister’s life before I was old enough to start paying attention, but I knew the Morrigan had somehow sunk her nails into Enorah early on, forcing her to choose between my happiness and her own. Enorah had chosen to give me a chance at a good life and had willingly gone to the Morrigan. Even after all these many, many years, it still hurt to know what my sister had sacrificed.

  “Not for a second did I think to tell her to seek mercy elsewhere, and it almost killed me to watch her disappear into the mist-clogged day as I held you close while you cried for your sister. The way she had bundled your threadbare jacket around your shoulders and murmured to you softly before leaving spoke volumes, Cade. It was as if you were her child and not her brother. That kind of love cannot be bought, my boy, the love of true family. It cannot be bartered or traded, nor can it be forced or manipulated. The love between you and Meghan is so very much like the love your sister proclaimed to the world when she sacrificed her freedom for yours. Similar in its constancy and strength.”