Spellbound-Legend

by Claudy Conn

  He found her, and it made him sick.

  ~ Eighteen ~

  “LIA …” THE PRINCE was chuckling. “My wee lass … just breathe …”

  He was holding her cradle-like in his arms and walking out of the lake with her dripping wet.

  “What happened?”

  “You stepped backwards—kept going backwards. I was reaching for you because there was no railing behind you. You went backwards again, and I reached to stop you … and almost had you when you went further back, and right into the lake. Lia …” he said this last reproachfully, “you didn’t seem to trust me …?”

  “Did I not?” she snapped, cutting him off. “Gee … I wonder why.” She gave him an evil eye. “My clothes … on … me … now.”

  In a flash she was dry and dressed and laid out on a lounge chair. Just like that. She told herself she didn’t think she could ever get used to the poof thing he was forever doing. One minute you see it, one minute you don’t had its drawbacks. Got you jumpy. He was dry as well and pulsating sex in his leather pants.

  The table next to them was laden with chilled wine, fruit, and cheeses. He offered her the fruit and cheese first, and his smile was a twinkle as he reached for the wine and poured a glass … one glass. He wanted to drink out of the same glass. That seemed to be a thing with him, she thought with a rueful smile. However, she gave him a hard glare as she reminded herself that he had chosen to take over and dress her body like she was a plaything.

  However, she was hungry and took a banana, peeled it and bit off some before asking one of the questions that had been intriguing her for days. “You are Tuatha Dé … I know that. I know history has the Fae coming in on a cloud probably from another universe or parallel world known as Danu. I know you were considered by the Irish to be the good gentry at least until the war. I know that Fae use Glamour to disguise what they are, but what I don’t know is … what you really do look like?”

  “Ah, does that worry you?” He smiled. “I look much as you see. Most of the Glamour I use is around my eyes. They would appear alien to you if I did not tone them. As to the rest of me,”—he grinned wickedly—“what you see, is what I am.” It was nearly the truth. In his case, his god-like beauty was such that a human could not look at him without cringing from the brightness. He used Glamour to diminish the impact.

  She considered this for a long moment. She liked his eyes. His eyes were the color of bright silver, and he didn’t realize how much she actually saw beyond the Glamour. She could see the brilliant shades of glittering, shimmering crystals in the recesses of his eyes. She could see the hint of ancientness behind the color. She could see the aura of light that shone all about his wondrous form, and she still found him so charmingly safe and honest. She loved the prince of Dagda—she just wasn’t in love with him.

  Could he have been one of those cold-hearted Tuatha Dé that ravished villages in ancient times, in ancient battles? She chose to think otherwise. That was then anyway, and this was now. Maxie had always been a very now person. Her first instinct was not to look too far back and not to look too far forward but to concentrate on making the here and now work in a way that wouldn’t trash the future.

  “What about your insides … your heart. I have read that the Fae do not have a heart as part of their physical make-up. Is that true?”

  “Lia, my love. Our anatomy is not so different than a human’s. Do you think it is your heart that feels love, or suffers the pain of being lovesick? Would your heart know emotional pain if your brain did not send the message?” He shook his head. “No … it is your brain that feels it. Humans attribute too much to the heart.” He shook his handsome head. “We are not so different …”

  “What about your soul?” She looked at him hard. “I heard that the Fae do not have souls?”

  The prince looked momentarily disturbed. “The soul of a Fae is vastly different than the soul of a human. A Fae’s soul … you could say is his essence. We have a conscience as you do, but our ethics are widely apart. I believe that the Fae’s soul governs conscience. We believe as the Druids believe that the soul … the human soul goes on to another life … but because we are immortal, our essence diminishes with time and is not strong enough for that sort of journey. If the unthinkable occurred and a Fae dies—that essence dies as well.” He shook his head. “We have no way of knowing for certain, but it is what we believe.”

  Maxie thought about this and frowned up at him. “I find that hard to believe. God is the creator, and I believe He created the entire Universe. You have a soul, but you just don’t feel it as strongly as a human does, but it is there, and must go on when the Fae dies …”

  He smiled. “That is your kindness thinking … perhaps not quite a reality.”

  She ignored him and plodded on. “What about children? Can you have children?”

  “Yes, although that ability as well has diminished again because of immortality. We must have our children when we are still very young, and even then … no guarantees.”

  “What is young?”

  “I am not certain … I have thought it must be less than twenty thousand years, but there are many Fae that have disproved that theory.”

  “And you? How old are you? I mean, you look like you are no older than, what, twenty-eight years?”

  “I am more nearly ten thousand years old, very young by Fae standards.”

  She finished the banana as she lingered over this new information. The day was absolutely beautiful. How does one tell time in Faery? How long have we been here? It suddenly dawned on her. “Bres … what time is it?”

  * * *

  It was seven o’fucking clock in the evening! No Max. No prince. No word! Julian had taken Big Boy and ridden a good part of the inner estate trails. Kennet had taken the rental car, and Dimples was out in the pasture. She couldn’t have been walking all bloody day. Where the deuce could she be? At least he knew that the DuLaine had no hand in this. However, the DuLaine was about to cause a great deal of trouble …

  He would think about that later. Now, now all he could think about was Maxie and finding her. Another quick search of the house produced the same result—nothing.

  No messages. No Max. No prince.

  By eight o’clock he was pushing away what Tally had left him for dinner, and he was downing his third glass of wine and starting on another.

  This was unacceptable! Under the present circumstances, with uncertainties and danger all around, he should be apprised of her plans. He should know where the hell she was at all times. He should know whom she was with.

  By midnight he was making his way down the hall to his room. He had the neck of his third bottle of excellent red wine in his hand when he heard a heavy thump!

  * * *

  “An hour … merely an hour … maybe two …” Bres shrugged and held Maxie’s hand to pull her back as she jumped to her feet.

  “What does that mean? How much time has elapsed in my world?” She was frantic.

  “Well … it is hard to say. Many things effect time in Tir. An hour here could be a day—or a week … in your world.”

  “A week?” She shouted, “A week?” She clasped her hands together.

  “Maybe a day?” He tried to appease her.

  “Home! Now. Immediately!”

  A moment later they were in her bedroom, and he was waving a hand with great showmanship. “As you wished, my Lia. Is there anything else before I leave you?”

  She was startled and unsure that she wanted him to go. He had been a comfort. She truly enjoyed his company. When she was with the prince, she didn’t have to think about Julian … well, at least she didn’t have to think of Julian every single minute.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to return to Tir, but I will be back tomorrow morning.” He took her in his arms, and there was no avoiding, no resisting, and no saying no to the kiss he was determined to have. What the heck? He was wearing her down. Then he was gone. She was left unsteady and tr
ipped over her own feet, and when she went down, she went down hard.

  She was picking herself up and touching her elbow, which was already hurting, and thinking that she no doubt would be black and blue, when the door opened and was slammed against its hinges. Filling the opening was this fiery, magnificent man …

  His black hair fell in torrents all around his chiseled, handsome face. His blue eyes were glaring with hot coals in their centers. His black T-shirt clung to his oh, man couldn’t a woman just melt against his burning, rock-hard body? He was wild, he was raw, and he was coming towards her.

  She had never seen Julian looking so dangerous. His lips formed a sneer, but at that moment he wasn’t shouting. His voice was low, murderous, and primal. He said on a muted throttle with the promise of thunder to back it up, “So, Miss Reigate, you have decided to return?”

  * * *

  The prince of Dagda considered the facts. He had been romantic, considerate, and caring. Yet, his Lia kept him at arm’s length. He was getting nowhere fast with his beauty. He did what she asked and returned her to her room. He was more than a little pleased to see she did not wish him to leave. However, he was also annoyingly aware that she did not wish him to bed her either. Then all at once the queen was in his head. It was a thing only she could do. The queen needed his immediate attention. There was nothing for it. The prince had to return to Tir.

  He stepped into the queen’s chambers and bowed low over her proffered hand. Her voice was soft, her eyes questioning. “All is well with our humans?”

  “Yes, my Queen.”

  “Good. I have a piece of information that may help us ferret out our traitor.”

  That got his attention. “And this information comes from?”

  She smiled quizzically. “My prince must always know the source.” Sighing, she paused before she proceeded to say, “I have always had a very good friend whose name I will withhold. I will tell you however that she is Daoine Sidhe.”

  “Daoine? I always thought them above friendships and such. My Queen, you astound me once again. I have never even seen a Daoine Sidhe … and you have a friend amongst them?”

  Her dark lashes fluttered to her creamy, sparkling skin and then up to display those eyes of a million stars. “My Prince … time has given me much, more than even you could imagine.”

  “Time does more than give, my Queen—it also takes. I have always thought that time is a two-edged sword … .”

  She touched his face with one elegant finger and then moved across the room. Move? It was more like gliding. He thought about her grace and wisdom as he waited for her to speak. “You are thinking of this Reigate chit you call Lia. She is not for you. She is human … you will give yourself to her and then lose her to the inevitable fate of humans. We are Fae—we live. They are human—they die.”

  “I could give her immortality … We have that power.”

  “Sometimes fate intervenes, and you find them dying before you have the chance …” She thought of her own dear beloved human and sighed heavily. “At any rate, Breslyn, giving her immortality is not something you wish to do. You don’t want Lia forever, and you know that.” Her eyebrow was up. “Besides, you know that the results of that particular potion when used on humans are most unpredictable. You, I know, would not wish to subject her to its trials and uncertainties.”

  There was that. He went silent.

  “She is not for you, my Royal Prince of Dagda, my dear friend. Now may we return to the subject at hand?”

  He pulled a face but got control. It would be best if he didn’t discuss this with his queen. He was going to do what he damn well wanted in the end. “Yes … your Daoine friend.”

  “Indeed. As a rule the Aos—or if you prefer, the Daoine—are far more pragmatic than we are, but they are not gods in spite of what they would like to think of themselves. In the end they are, as we are—Tuatha Dé from Danu.”

  He digested this but wanted to get to the point. “So you have this long-standing friendship?”

  “She says that a Tuatha Dé has visited Daoine in the guise of a Dubhgrall. She did not try to see past the blackness of his particular Glamour. It was Dark Magic, and she was revolted by its use in Daoine. She followed the Seelie Fae until he ventured into the Realm of the Sluagh Sidhe. He was under the Sluagh’s protection, and therefore she did not proceed any further.”

  “How does this help us?”

  “It tells us that the extent of the power of Dark Magic he controls. It tells us that he conspires with a particularly powerful Daoine—the Sluagh. It tells us that he has manipulated the Sluagh into giving him access to their world. This traitor of ours, this despicable lowlife, would have had to have a prior acquaintance with the Sluagh. He could not just enter Daoine—Queen Mab’s Realm—without an invitation. Somehow he has made contact and kept up a bond with the Sluagh Sidhe. He must have been planning this for centuries.”

  “But how did he meet the Sluagh in the first place? I am a royal prince and have never met a Daoine Seelie—let alone the legendary Sluagh!”

  “Precisely, Breslyn. You will have to think this out as I have. There can be only one conclusion. Review it. I wish you to get there on your own. We know that the Sluagh is fond of taking mortals with him when he takes flight and tours the human skies. We know that in this century it is not always an easy thing for him to accomplish undetected, and so he has very nearly given the practice up although it was one of his favorite pastimes. It is more than likely that our unknown traitor has managed to create a bond with the Sluagh by providing him with mortals from time to time. This bond of sorts must have been struck up over the centuries. Our traitor we already know is an ancient—much older than you are. This traitor was with me during the Treaty. This traitor owns the Dark Magic he has used, and he has won over a friendship with the Sluagh. Does that not limit our selection?”

  “We are looking for a true ancient if he has a friendship of that nature with a Daoine,” the prince mused out loud. As usual, the queen was clear-sighted. Indeed. The Daoine was the highest class of Tuatha Dé. They had long ago left earth and man to each other and created their own world from the elements of water, fire, air, and earth. They lived in harmony with one another and rarely involved themselves in matters outside their own sphere. Now and then they attended the Dark King of the Unseelie because he was in fact a Seelie Fae and probably the most powerful Seelie Fae that ever lived.

  The Seelie Sluagh was one of Daoine’s lower caste members but prized affectionately amongst his brethren and magically potent. His nickname was the Seelie Host. This was because his favorite pastime was to take willing and even unwilling female humans and fly them over Ireland and other worlds before returning them to the human world. It was also rumored that now and then, he did not return a chosen human but kept her as his guest for her lifetime. He was a golden, beautiful Fae male with wings that sparkled and shimmered and illuminated him beyond a human’s immediate vision. It was said that it was the Sluagh that had first been mistaken for a winged angel …

  There were tales that described the Sluagh, and those tales gave rise to the story of winged Fae, but there was only one winged Fae—the Sluagh, and he was the last of his kind.

  “What in the name of Danu would the Sluagh have to do with a Fae traitor?” Breslyn whispered out loud.

  Aaibhe did not respond but moved to her garden’s glass doors. Breslyn watched her between knit brows. The Daoine Queen Mab would not tolerate a Tuatha Dé traitor. Did the Sluagh know to what extend his Seelie Fae friend had gone to betray Aaibhe, Queen of the Tuatha Dé? And which ancient Fae amongst them had the power of the forbidden darkest magic?

  Breslyn was unaware of the fact that he was pacing until the queen quietly indicated for him to stop. He looked across the room at her for a long moment. “I can think of only four … perhaps five, Tuatha Dé capable of such power, and my dearest Queen … they are all senior members of our High Council.”

  “Just so, my Prince. Just so.”<
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  * * *

  She felt violence in the room, in the air, in Julian, and it was just barely contained. His voice was low, and feral, “So then … how nice of you, Miss Reigate—that you have decided to return to us.”

  Her chin went up. What right had he to be annoyed with her? She could come and go as she saw fit! “Why? Are there house rules I have broken?” She was standing now, brushing herself off.

  “Yes, common courtesy rules. Those rules require that guests should inform the host of where they are going and when they mean to return.”

  “Why? I didn’t take a key. I didn’t ask for a door to be left open, and I didn’t—”

  He cut her off and stood over her like a volcanic mountain about to erupt. “It would have been the right thing to do. We did not even know if you were coming to dinner.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh … was Uncle Kennet worried?”

  “He wasn’t here to worry.”

  She saw him in her mind all alone with Mary at dinner and gritted her teeth. “How convenient for you and your new guest … Mary … yes, I think you called her Mary.”

  He ignored this jibe and demanded, “Where have you been? You’ve been gone all day … all night!”

  She was stepping back. It seemed that was the course of the day—retreat. “I was out. I wouldn’t have thought you would notice. You were so busy with Mary.” She sounded peevish and childish even to her own ears.

  He didn’t flinch, and again he didn’t bother to respond to her obvious jibe about Mary. He had her shoulders in his large hands. “I can smell him all over you!”

  “The prince? Yes … a very strong, pleasant scent of pines and vanilla.”

  He shook her. “Where did you go?”

  “I think you’ve been there—yes, I know you have. The Isle of Tir … but I didn’t see much of it, as the prince took me to his place.” As soon as she said this last she realized what it sounded like. She sucked in her bottom lip and watched as the color drained from his face. His deep blue eyes got darker still and took on a war cry look. It was an age-old man thing—the caveman thing that banished all clear, civilized thought.