“Concentrate upon the smallest bits of . . . I believe you would call them leptons or neutrinos.”
“What would you call them?” Regan tried to imagine the plastic models of atoms she’d studied in high school.
“Hmm. It matters not, for I wish to speak of what flows between. In the language of the fae, what flows around the smallest particles of matter translates into something like ‘life force,’ or ‘life essence,’ and that is what you must seek.” The orb in her hand cast a silvery light into the domed cavern of earth and stone. “I fear it doesn’t translate well at all in terms you might understand. Nothing in the universe is still or empty, and the friction from that constant movement creates energy that can be harnessed.”
No matter how hard she thought about atoms moving and what might be between them, nothing appeared in her palm. “By you—not me.”
“You can reach for it as well,” Boann chided. “Stop talking, and allow yourself to—ah, how to explain? You must be an observer, separate from your thinking self, with nothing on your mind except the essence of light and life.”
“Trancelike?”
“Exactly. In that state, you can draw the energy and bend it to your will.”
“You said we didn’t have time for a magic lesson. Shouldn’t we be finding your uncle?” Or rescuing Fáelán from an eternity of hell? Her stomach lurched at the thought of how he must be suffering right now.
“Aye, but we are about to enter my grandsire’s kingdom, and I cannot take the journey with you to the end. I don’t want to leave you without your having at least the means to illuminate your way.”
“All right.” She drew in a long breath and adjusted her posture. “I’m guessing the state of being is like meditation?”
“Aye.”
Regan stared at her palm, centered herself and stilled her thoughts. Stepping back from her conscious mind, she became an observer. Engulfed within the thrum and pulse of Tara, her heartbeat synched with the hill’s rhythm, and the essence of life Boann spoke of not only surrounded her but flowed through her. Or had it always been there, and she just now became aware of it? Regan’s breathing slowed, and she merged with the flow of energy. Come to me.
She pictured the smallest particles of matter in a river of something she had no name for. She imagined the tiny bits vibrating and colliding, generating energy. She focused on the space above her palm and willed the light to her. A tiny spark appeared and hovered above her hand. “I did it!” The spark disappeared. “Almost.”
Boann laughed. “Did I not tell you? You lost your concentration in your excitement, but at least now you know how it’s done. Even in the worst places, you can draw forth light and warmth to you. Doing so will come easier with practice.”
The faerie drew a rune in the air, and a door-size portion of the cavern wall shimmered. “Follow me.” She stepped through and disappeared.
Fear of being left alone under tons and tons of earth propelled her forward, and Regan followed. Passing through the shimmer was no different than walking through an open door, and she found herself in a sunlit meadow with soft grass beneath her feet. A variety of colorful wildflowers waved in a soft summer breeze, and the air held a sweetness and purity unlike anything she’d ever encountered anywhere. The sky was a pale shade of blue with wisps of pink and gray clouds streaking the horizon. Awestruck, she gazed around her.
Boann beckoned to her from a path leading up the hill. “Come, my uncle’s keep is just beyond this rise.”
Regan hurried to catch up. “I thought this was the void. It’s so beautiful here, and peaceful. Is all of your world like this?”
“More or less.”
“It’s not at all like I imagined the void would be.”
“Mmm. ’Tis not so very different from the earthly realm, aye? You have continents surrounded by vast oceans. We have continents surrounded by mist.”
“I guess. Fáelán told me the Tuatha Dé Danann project magic onto the void to create whatever environment you want, while ours just exists the way it is with or without us. Is that true?”
“’Tis complicated. We have our own society, culture and a ruling hierarchy. We are monarchal, and our world is made up of several kingdoms, with a high king over all. Though those of the aristocracy may create whatever homes they wish, our world is created by the consensus of our monarchs and a council of aristocracy.”
She stopped and turned to Regan. “There are certain protocols you must follow in dealing with my uncle. Mananán is a master illusionist and a trickster. He’s very powerful. You must not look directly into his eyes, even though he might command you to do so.”
“All right. I won’t look him in the eyes.” Her heart pounded. It was easy to think of Boann as half human, but Regan was about to come face-to-face with a completely nonhuman demigod, who might not welcome her presence. “What would happen if I did look him in the eyes?”
“He would enchant you, and you would be powerless to refuse any request he might make. Trust me in this, should you come under my uncle’s thrall, he will make the most outrageous requests. Be respectful and humble, but never forget who and what he is, a direct descendent of the goddess Danu.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“Do not look into his eyes, Regan.” She started up the hill again.
“I won’t.” She frowned. “Can I look at his feet?”
“Best keep your eyes upon your own.”
“Can you look at him?”
“Of course. He’s my uncle. Because of our blood tie, he cannot enchant me. For our kind, to transgress the bonds of kinship in that manner would be a punishable offense, even for a prince.”
They reached the top of the hill, and Regan surveyed the valley below. A pastoral green meadow dotted with grazing sheep and cattle surrounded a medieval-style castle with a village spread along the outer wall. Beyond the village, fields had been planted with ordinary crops, and grapevines covered a terraced hill. Her gaze returned to the castle, which had turrets, ramparts, a moat and a drawbridge leading to a barbican and an outer bailey. “Your uncle farms and raises sheep?”
Boann flashed her a wry look. “Aye, and beeves, chickens and pigs. We have all manner of animals within our realm, including horses and game animals. We love to hunt. Our world is as real as yours, Regan. Do humans not shape the environment to their will? You humans build dams, blast through mountains to make roads. You too change the landscape and the environment through your actions and your will. Is this not so?”
“I suppose it is.” She frowned, thinking about the ways in which humankind impacted and altered their world. “But . . . Fáelán said he was the only living thing on his island, and there weren’t any fish in the lake.”
“’Twas all I could do to give him back the illusion of the island, and I didn’t push any further than I dared.” Boann began walking toward the castle. “I shall stretch the truth a bit whilst pleading for Mananán’s help. Pay no heed.”
Her nerves taut, Regan nodded and followed Boann to the drawbridge. She hadn’t known what to expect when it came to fae dwellings, but she never would have guessed a fae prince would live as a medieval lord. Flowing waterfalls, moss-covered knolls and open airy pavilions maybe, but a castle, village and farming? She shook her head.
They crossed the drawbridge and entered an outer bailey teeming with activity. People dressed in medieval peasant garb went about their business in the midst of a marketplace of open booths and wagons. The ground was covered in cobblestones, with the occasional evidence of horses having passed through. Again, not what she’d imagined for magical demigods. She took it all in, the smells of roasting meat, fresh bread being baked, the wares being offered and the faeries, who were all impossibly beautiful, pale and blue-eyed.
The crowd bowed and parted to make way for Boann to pass, some offering respectful greetings. Regan garnered a few curious looks but no alarm. “No one seems too surprised or concerned about my presence.”
“A
ll sensed your entry into Summerland, which is what we call our world. None have any reason for concern. We are the Tuatha Dé Danann.” She glanced at Regan, her expression radiating superiority. “You pose no threat.”
Regan’s gut twisted, and despite the illusion of ordinary life all around her, her complete powerlessness and vulnerability among the fae hit home. They continued on through the nearly deserted inner baily. The door to the castle opened at their approach, and Regan lowered her gaze to the ground in front of her.
“’Tis only a servant,” Boann assured her, taking her by the arm.
“I’m not taking any chances.” She had her Fiann to rescue. She wasn’t about to become ensnarled in any faerie’s spell, even if he was a prince. They passed through the threshold, and Regan studied the wood plank floor beneath her feet.
“My dear Boann, how gracious of you to visit.” A man’s voice filled the entire hall. “I see you’ve brought a sweet morsel for my enjoyment. Is she meant as a gift?”
His voice held the timbre of deep seductive enchantment. Regan fought against the lure of being drawn in.
“Nay, Uncle. She is my sire’s mate. Regan’s plea for help reached me through the astral plane. I would not have involved myself but for the blood tie binding me to the babe she carries.” Boann crossed the hall, drawing Regan with her. “A grave wrong has been committed against this woman and the innocent soul she bears. I have brought her to you, because I know you are her best hope for help.”
“Ah, yes. Quite fecund, and delightful to the beholder.” Mananán circled Regan, and his perusal moved over her in a very physical way, as if he touched her skin . . . only not with his hands but with his senses. “You’ve a beautiful aura about you, my lovely.”
He stood in front of her now, and Regan’s heart thumped wildly. Desperate to put some distance between her and the impact of Mananán’s nearness, she closed her eyes and stood her ground. Wave after wave of his unmistakable sexual desire lapped over and through her. He took her hand, and an electric tingle arced through every single nerve in her body.
“Welcome to my home, Regan. Ah . . . I sense you carry a trace of fae blood.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, lingering over the act.
She nearly came from the contact, and her entire being recoiled at the unwanted sensations. “I do, yes.” She bowed her head and slipped her hand free, relieved when he didn’t insist on keeping it in his grip.
Mananán chuckled softly. “Let us sit, and you can tell me all about the wrong that has befallen you. Perhaps I can be persuaded to offer my help.”
“We would be grateful of any aid or advice you might offer, Uncle Mananán.” Boann once again took Regan’s arm, squeezing it for an instant.
“Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” she murmured, hoping she’d addressed him correctly. Boann led her to a thronelike carved wooden chair, one of a grouping of four set before a hearth fire burning cheerfully away with no logs or fuel of any kind. At least the dancing flames gave her somewhere safe to look. Regan sank into the chair, careful to keep her gaze off the prince, fighting against the compulsion to peek. He had to be devastatingly gorgeous.
What harm can come from looking? Gaze into my eyes, my lovely, and I shall grant you pleasure beyond imagining. His voice whispered through her mind.
Regan shook her head, and continued to focus upon the flames. Did creating fire like this happen the same way Boann taught her to draw light and heat from the essence flowing between particles of matter? If so, how did the fae keep it going so effortlessly?
Mananán grunted. “You are strong for one of your kind, and I do so enjoy strong females of your species,” he purred. “Tell me of your plight.”
Regan dug in her mental heels, resisting the sexual pull Mananán exerted over her, and launched into Fáelán’s story from the beginning of his encounter with Morrigan to his present imprisonment. “When Fáelán met Morrigan’s conditions for breaking the curse, when he gave me his heart completely, your sister stole him from me. Morrigan broke her word, and now I am without my mate, and my child will be without a father.” Her heart thudded painfully. She, Fáelán and their little one might never have the chance to be a family, and all because of one selfish, vindictive faerie. The unfairness of it all staggered her.
“It does sound like something my sister would do,” Mananán said with another enchantment-infused laugh.
“Mother reneged on her vow to my sire, thereby breaking the covenant the wizard Amergin formed between the Tuatha Dé Danann and mortals,” Boann added.
“Think you to lecture me on the covenant formed long before your birth?” Mananán asked, his tone mocking. “What has any of this to do with me?”
Good question. Why would he help? Regan glanced at Boann, hoping like hell her arsenal of faerie magic included the power of persuasion.
“Morrigan’s breach gives Regan the right to bring her complaint to our king. She wishes for an audience at King Lir’s court, but she lacks the means to get there. I am your blood kin, and her mate is my sire. On their behalf, I am asking you to grant Regan passage on Ocean Sweeper, and—”
“You wish me to lend my boat to send this . . . this human to Father’s court?”
“Aye, and do not forget, she carries fae blood.”
“But a trace. My dear niece, our kinship aside, what do I stand to gain?”
Once again, the prince’s gaze, a physical, covetous pressure, centered upon Regan. She gritted her teeth and did her best to repel the seductive force. A new appreciation and understanding dawned for what Fáelán had endured with Morrigan. Please let there be a future for me and Fáelán, and I’ll apologize for doubting him every day for the rest of my life. She placed her hand protectively over her womb.
“I ask it as a personal favor, Uncle. It grieves me to think of my sire being tortured for all eternity. He has committed no wrong against Morrigan, and her treatment toward him is a cruel injustice.”
“Hmph.”
Silence stretched on for several moments, and Regan’s hopes plummeted. “Please,” she whispered.
“Perhaps we can come to an agreement. It has been too long since I took a mortal to my bed. Stay with me for a fortnight . . . nay, a month, and I shall escort you to King Lir’s court myself and aid you in pleading your case.”
“Uncle . . .”
Tears welled, and the more Regan thought about how these creatures had dealt with Fáelán, and the way this prince behaved toward her, the hotter her indignation burned. Mananán’s seductive magic lost some of its power over her. “Look.” She gripped the armrests of the chair. “I’m begging for your help. Morrigan has committed a crime. No argument there. You’re a prince among your people. Aren’t you honor bound to . . . to uphold the law? With all due respect, Your Highness, your suggestion is not only insulting, but it’s another wrong heaped on top of the first. I won’t stay with you, or . . . or—”
“Then I have no help to offer.” His tone no longer held any trace of the seductiveness from before. “I doubt Father would be the least bit interested in one puny human caught in my sister’s sticky web. Morrigan has managed to keep her pet a secret all these centuries, and—”
“And though I have pleaded with you repeatedly, you have done naught to ameliorate my sire’s suffering. Or mine.” Boann’s voice took on a determined edge. “As I have oft said, my mother has denied me contact with my sire, and it grieves me deeply. Breaking her vow to Fáelán is not Mother’s only unlawful transgression. She gave a mortal the Elixir of Life without his knowledge and without the sanction of the royal council.”
“Again, none of this has aught to do with me.”
“Except you knew of it and did naught to dissuade her. ’Twould pain me to cause strife between us, but if you will not grant Regan some sort of aid, so be it. Now that Fáelán has met the conditions for his freedom, I will find a way around our kinship bond to bring this to Lir’s attention myself. Your complicity will not be looked upon
favorably by our council or by our king. In fact, I shall see that Regan’s case reaches our high king’s court. ’Tis certain Dagda Mór will be displeased to say the least. Perhaps he’ll banish you and Morrigan from Summerland for a century or two.”
Boann rose from her chair and moved to stand before her uncle. “As our covenant decrees, Morrigan provided my sire with a way to free himself from the curse. Fáelán met the conditions to be released from the curse, and Mother reneged. ’Tis a case without defense, and a situation you have had knowledge of since its inception.”
“Hmm.”
Regan held her breath as another long silence stretched between the three of them.
“’Tis best that I not be involved at all—”
“Uncle . . .”
“However, there is a way in which all interests might be served without involving Dagda Mór, Lir or myself.”
“What do you suggest?” Boann asked.
“What I’ve in mind would solve everything, including Morrigan’s unlawful use of the Elixir of Life. Send this woman back through time. Have her interfere with the Fiann before the curse can be cast, thereby righting the wrong before ever it occurred.”
“You can do that? Would you send me back to before he and Morrigan—”
“We cannot stop Morrigan from being with Fáelán. ’Tis strictly forbidden, but we can allow you to interfere with mortals such as my sire and Nóra. If you can keep Fáelán from his lover the night he was cursed, then—”
“But . . . but . . . Fáelán won’t know me,” Regan stammered. “If I manage to prevent the curse from happening, then he and I will never have met, and . . . he won’t . . . We won’t have . . .” He wouldn’t know her at all, much less love her. She’d no longer carry their baby.
Her heart breaking, she wrapped her arms around her midriff. “Fáelán and I won’t be able to communicate well enough for me to convince him. I’m sure ancient Irish is much different from the modern-day version. Why would he listen to a complete stranger, even if he could understand what I was saying?”
Tangled in Time (The McCarthy Sisters) Page 17
