by Mary Morgan
“Not even for your brother?” he demanded harshly.
“Why?” she yelled. “I would gladly assist you, but I don’t—”
“I love her!”
A sob wrenched free from his sister. “Blessed Danu, can it be so?”
“I have spoken the binding vows.”
Silence followed and he sensed his sister was pacing.
“Is there nothing you can do?”
“Quiet. I am concentrating,” she snapped.
Hope soared within him and Conn kept vigil waiting for her.
Abela’s love washed through his mind and body. “We must act swiftly. I shall not open the gates. However, I will part the two realms and create a path for you to move through. I don’t know how long I can keep it stable. Once you step through, my magic will escort you along the way. Concentrate on the path in front of you—your chambers. If you sway for even a second, you’ll lose the sight and venture into another realm. One where I will not be able to bring you back.”
Conn wrapped a single thought of love out to her. “Thank you, Abela.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Brother. Upon your arrival, seal off the place with your magic. You do realize I must alert the king and queen.”
Conn stood. “Have them bring a healer.”
The mists descended and swirled around him as he picked up Ivy. He cradled her body close to him and waited. The air cooled and thinned. As the tendrils of vapor parted, a realm between the two worlds opened up for Conn.
“Now,” ordered Abela.
Darting forward into the abyss, the pressure slammed into Conn. His steps faltered, but he steadied himself and quickly moved forward. Seeing his chambers looming in the distance, he kept his focus fixed making long strides toward the place. Lights and soft music called out to him from his left, but he ignored their luring song. His lungs tried to adjust to the lack of air and for a moment, he thought to pause and take in deep cleansing breaths. But he shoved the thought aside and his pace increased.
The steps to his chambers became visible, yet, the mists thickened. Time was running out. Abela could no longer maintain the chasm open between the realms. Using every ounce of energy, Conn started to run. Pain slashed through his chest—his arms becoming weak. Dark spots clouded his vision, and he gritted his teeth.
I will not fail!
With one final burst of speed, Conn crossed over into his chambers, crashing against the floor on his side. Taking in huge gulps of air, he lifted his hand and sealed off his chambers. Placing his chin on Ivy’s head, he waited until he had regained his strength.
After several moments, Conn stood and went into his inner chamber. Waving his hand outward, the velvet covers fell back on his bed. Carefully, he placed Ivy on the soft linens. Next, he gently removed all of her clothing.
“By the hounds,” he hissed, staring at the gaping hole in her side. Snapping his fingers magically, he dressed her in a soft ivory gown fashioned with buttons down the front.
He bent and placed a kiss along her brow. Her face held no trace of color, and Conn held his hands above her body. This time the whisper of her heartbeat took longer. His beloved was dying.
Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, he paced with uncertainty at the foot of his bed. Surely his parents had now heard the news of his arrival. What could be taking them so long? He halted. Did they decide not to come? Not to bring a healer? If he opened the door to his chambers, would there be guards to take him away—transport Ivy back to the human realm to die—all alone?
“No,” he growled. He glanced at her and grasped the bedpost. “I refuse to believe such cruelty from my own parents.”
“I am happy to hear those words, my son.”
Conn turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. He blinked, unable to move. “And father?”
“What about your father?” she echoed.
He had no time for bantering of words. “Will we be expecting him?”
Ignoring his question, Queen Nuala moved to Ivy’s bedside. “What have you done, Conn?” She brushed a finger over Ivy’s pale features.
Conn choked back the emotions, but his voice betrayed him. “I have fallen madly in love with a human—one where I have spoken my vows to pledge my heart with hers.” He wandered to Ivy’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. Lifting her hand, he placed it against his heart. “Never did I imagine such love for another. I am a warrior with centuries of training to avoid all emotional bindings.” He lifted his gaze to meet his mother’s. “Call it fate, destiny, or purely chance. Her soul called out to mine, and I accepted.”
His mother came to his side and cupped his face within her hands. “Love often comes to us unbidden. Even the greatest of Fenian warriors have fallen, and I don’t mean that in a negative content.”
He swallowed. “Thank you.”
She sighed and stepped back. “You do realize there will be a price for what you seek?”
“Payment for her life? From father?”
“Yes,” she whispered sadly. “From your king.”
“I would give my life freely, if that’s what is required.”
“I would never bargain a life for a life,” snapped King Ansgar storming into the room. Behind him trailed a man in long white robes. The king gestured to the man. “I have brought you your healer.”
Standing, Conn made room for the man. Clasping his hands behind his back, he bowed to his father. “Thank you.”
“Who is she?” he demanded.
“Ivy O’Callaghan.”
His father’s eyes blazed with fury. “Your charge?”
“My beloved,” he corrected, daring his father to challenge him.
Silence permeated the place.
“If I may have a few moments with the human female,” suggested the healer.
The king gave a curt nod. Conn followed his father and mother into the other room. His mother passed a hand over the table and a wine jug with glasses appeared. She poured some into two glasses, and then handed one to the king and Conn.
“Forgive me, Mother, but I would rather keep my wits.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Your wits hover on disaster. Drink and relax. You have been through a great strain. The healer will tend to your wounds, as well.”
Arguing with his mother always proved futile, especially when she smiled. Taking the offered glass, he took a sip. The wine warmed him immediately. Realizing how cold his chambers were, Conn threw out a spark of fire into the fireplace. The blaze brought illumination and took the chill away.
“Explain all,” ordered his father, taking a seat by the blazing hearth.
Conn leaned against the stone, the heat barely seeping into his body. “I fulfilled my quest. Ivy has emerged from her shadow of secrets, which were many. Her true parentage was discovered. In addition, she has suffered vicious attacks—one where she would have died without my intervention.”
His father drained his glass of wine. “Nevertheless, you have left out one important fact.”
“That I fell in love with her? A fact only important to me.”
“Wrong. Have you decided to ignore all laws?”
Conn watched as his father’s ire grew. Challenging him might cost him, but he refused to back down. “It must be a trait among Fenian Warriors. Although, I don’t believe love is against our laws?”
Throwing the glass into the fireplace, his father stood. “It was a mistake to place Aidan Kerrigan as your mentor.”
His mother gasped and reached for her husband’s arm. “How can you speak thus? Did he not save your life during the battle between the old and new religions?”
King Ansgar closed his eyes. Upon opening them, he placed a hand over hers. “Forgive me for my harsh words. You were correct in reminding me.” Meeting Conn’s glare, he said, “He was one of our greatest, but I cannot fathom why you chose a human.”
Swirling his wine, Conn then drained his glass and placed it on the table. “Do we choose love, or does it seek us out, Father?”
“Love between a Fae and human is forbidden,” he uttered somberly.
Conn raked a hand through his hair. Striding to the entrance of his vast garden, he glanced outward at the magnificent waterfall. “My mind knows the law, but my soul and heart refused to listen.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “What would you have me do?”
When the healer emerged, all thoughts of their conversation vanished from his mind. The Fae’s features held the grim reality, and Conn feared hearing the words. He walked slowly over to him. “Tell me,” he gritted out.
“I am sorry, Prince. The female—”
“Her name is Ivy,” interrupted Conn.
The healer straightened. “My apologies. Ivy has lost far too much blood. In order to heal the wound in her side, she requires more. Furthermore, she has been kept overlong in a suspended state, and her spirit is starting to cross over.”
“No!” roared Conn, pushing past the man. He refused to hear his words. Running to her side, he leaned over her. She couldn’t die. Not now. Not when he opened his heart to love. He’d given her a piece of his soul, so why not another. He was doomed already. Another sacrifice would ensure her life—forever.
“No,” he stated again and lifted his gaze to those watching him from the entrance. “Give her my blood. I’ve said my binding vows to her. My blood will sustain her.”
“It’s not done. Do not speak of tainting both worlds,” bellowed the king. “I refuse!”
For the first time in his existence, Conn cared less about formalities. He was no longer concerned with rules, laws, and his training. Striding to his father, he met his hard stare. “She is my beloved, Father.”
“And I forbid it. Do not think you can sway me.” He jabbed a finger into Conn’s chest. “You speak like a youngling, not a warrior.”
Conn’s eyes blazed, but he kept his fists clenched by his side. “Name your price.”
Thunder rolled overhead, and Conn realized his father was dangerously nearing the edge of his control.
“I do not barter for a life,” the king’s tone held a warning.
“You would if it was the queen,” countered Conn.
Without giving him a chance to respond, Conn knelt on one knee in front of his father. His sacrifice was needed, and he sealed off the pain to his heart. “I make this one last request for the woman I love. Grant my blood to save her life, and I will renounce my association to the Brotherhood. In addition, I shall take my rightful place as prince by your side, and choose a wife from the royal house of Frylnn.”
Hushed silence descended throughout the room.
“Done,” accepted the king. “I will await your arrival in the royal chambers.” In a brilliant flash, he departed.
“She will never be the same,” stated his mother softly. “Her blood will flow with yours—ours and she will live a life not fully content.”
Conn kept his head bent. “Then issue her a Guardian to help her through the process.”
His mother knelt down in front of him, but he refused to meet her gaze. “Once healed, she’ll be returned to her world. You would let her go?”
When Conn lifted his head, his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Yes. Her life is more important than my own.” He rose slowly. “I would willingly give up everything for Ivy.”
His mother shook her head. “A noble gesture. But you have not considered her heart, have you, my son? Without you.”
Conn watched as his mother vanished from the room in a soft whisper of light. He had no time to consider his mother’s words. Nodding to the healer, he stripped the last of his clothing from his body.
Making his way to Ivy’s side, his eyes roamed her features, studying every curve, committing to memory every detail about her. For when the dawn of morning came, Conn MacRoich, Fae prince, would take his place beside his king. Never again would he step foot in the human realm.
In that quiet moment, Conn suddenly realized his sacrifice would cost him the greatest love of a lifetime.
“Forgive me, mo ghrá.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Shards of glass make for a beautiful prism when held up to the sunlight.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Beautiful, soothing music floated around Ivy. Buoyed by a sense of peace, she drifted within the warm waters of bliss. Contentment filled her being, and she longed to stay in this place. There was joy, happiness, laughter, and love. She danced and sang, lifted high above the stars and then flew back down. All of these emotions radiated throughout her body, but there was something missing.
It was fleeting each time she paused to ponder its meaning. When the thought was almost within her grasp, it floated away, as if someone snatched it from her mind.
However, she couldn’t forget the voice. It beckoned her on several occasions—filling her with stories of long ago. Tales of giants and dragons. Kings and queens. So many questions burned within her to ask, but the words refused to emerge.
So, Ivy happily went on her spiritual voyage, until one day she heard him sighing. Oh how agonizing the sound was to her ears. She longed to reach out and give comfort. His torment ached within her, and Ivy became restless. Sadness entered her serene world.
Her fingers stretched and the feeling was unnatural. Heaviness engulfed her as she slowly attempted to open her eyes. The effort tired her, but she waited and calmed her breathing. On the fourth endeavor, Ivy managed to open her eyes fully. Blinking several times, she took in her surroundings. The room was magnificent—reminding her of being in a forest. A huge armoire graced one side of the room with etchings of animals carved into its wood exterior. On the opposite side, an array of multi-colored lights spilled in from a large window through beautiful crystal panels. Her fingers brushed over the soft velvet green cover. And the bed was one fit for a giant. A massive four-poster. She squinted, trying to focus on the post’s design, but finally gave up.
It was a simple, but elegant room. But where was she?
Memories flooded her mind, and she cried out in pain, clutching her head.
“Here, drink this,” ordered the man, his voice soothing.
Ivy took the goblet. “Too…too many thoughts,” she muttered in a hoarse voice and closed her eyes.
“It is to be expected, though you have been asleep longer than we wished.” He nudged the cup to her lips. “Drink,” he urged.
“What is it? Tastes like cream mixed with almonds and cinnamon.”
“A healing tonic.”
She snapped open her eyes. “Why am I not in a hospital? Where am I?”
“If you drink the rest, I will tell you.” He pulled a nearby chair to her bedside.
“I’m in no mood for negotiating.”
The man’s mouth twitched in humor. “I now see why he chose you.”
Realization slammed into Ivy. “Conn. What happened?” She rubbed a hand over her brow, trying to organize the images. The encounter with Mike Banister. Being shoved into his car. The horrific pain at being impaled. Darkness.
“You are in the Prince’s chambers. He brought you here after you were injured.”
Ivy took another sip of the cool liquid, finding the man’s words unsettling. She looked down at her body. “I don’t know any prince. Again, why am I here and not in a hospital? Are you a special nurse?”
“It was the only way Prince Conn could save your life.”
Gripping the goblet firmly to keep her hands from shaking, she looked directly at the man. “Prince as in prince of the Fae realm.”
The man smiled. “Precisely. And my name is Kaelan.”
Ivy drained the last of the liquid and handed the goblet back to him. “I thought he was a Fenian Warrior?”
“Ahh…so he has shared his status with you.”
Ivy blushed. They had shared so much together. Yet, in their time and discussions, Conn never mentioned he was heir to the Fae realm. “Yes, but not his lineage.”
Kaelan frowned in concentration. “I deem he withheld this knowledge,
since he did not consider himself a prince. Once he took the oath of a Fenian Warrior, he renounced his right to one day rule our world.”
Weariness swept through Ivy. “Where is he?”
The healer rose. “He is attending to his duties with the king.”
“I’m confused. I thought you said he gave up his right to rule.”
A shadow passed over Kaelan’s features. “He is no longer a Fenian Warrior. In order to save your life with his own blood, he agreed to leave the Brotherhood and take his place by his father’s side.”
Yawning, Ivy tried to sit up more fully. “Why are you telling me this and not Conn?”
Kaelan shrugged and left the room.
“Wait, I have more questions.”
“Sleep,” he ordered, his words echoing in the room.
“I think I’ve slept enough.” Yawning once again, she slid down among the pillows. “What was in that drink,” she mumbled, slipping into a deep slumber.
****
Warm lips touched hers, and Ivy bolted awake. She rubbed her eyes and then looked around the darkened place. Bringing a shaky hand to her lips, his scent lingered—one of the woods and all male. A lone candle burned low on a nearby table, yet, no trace of the physical man in the room.
“Where are you, Conn?” she blurted out, tears misting her eyes.
Frustration seeped inside of her as she dug her fingers into the soft velvet blankets. She had no concept of time or day. Her reality was skewed, and the man she loved elusive.
Deciding to take charge, she eased out from the covers. She marveled at the lovely pale rose-colored gown she wore. However, Ivy’s first task was to inspect her injury. Her feet dangled over the edge of the massive bed. Feeling unsure, she opted to slip the gown from her shoulders. Taking a quick look to her left, she proceeded to shove the fabric farther down.
“Sweet Brigid,” she gasped, running her fingers over her smooth skin. No bandages. No scars. No pain. Nothing. No physical evidence of her injury.
Stunned, Ivy quickly pulled the garment back over her body. Reaching for the matching robe, she struggled to put it on. Taking in some deep calming breaths, she eased her feet onto the floor. Her balance was shaky, so she used the side of the bed for support. Inching her way along the bed, she finally made it to the end and clutched the bedpost.
