Quest of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors Book 1)

by Mary Morgan

  Ivy placed a calming hand on Conn’s chest. “We were destined to meet.”

  Placing his forehead on hers, he sighed. “The stars were aligned.”

  She giggled. “You could say, right?”

  Conn looked up at his mother. “Did you know this would happen with Ivy—the vision?”

  The queen took a few steps back. “My son, not only is Ivy your future wife, but she will become the next seer. I did not fully understand my own vision until she was brought into this hall.”

  “What?” they both exclaimed in unison.

  Then Queen Nuala brushed a hand over them both. “And I deem it wise to name your firstborn daughter after the woman who brought you both together. Sorcha.”

  Conn and Ivy exchanged looks. “Daughter?” they asked in stunned voices.

  “Yes,” confirmed the queen, giving Ivy a pointed look. “She’s been calling out to you in your dreams.”

  Ivy clutched her abdomen. “I’m pregnant. My daughter is speaking to me?”

  Conn muttered something in his ancient language. Lifting her into his arms, he stood. “If you don’t mind, I think we’ll retreat to our chambers.”

  “Good idea,” muttered Ivy.

  Queen Nuala smiled. “Your father has requested that Ivy stay inside the royal chambers with us until you are married.”

  Conn snorted and gave Ivy a wink. “I’m sure you can convince the king that it would be wiser if she remained with me. As I’ve already stated, I’ve shared my binding vows and blood with the woman who holds my heart.”

  Giving no time for his mother to make a retort, Conn whisked them away in a glorious flash of light.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Wisdom is gifted to those who seek with an open mind and heart.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Conn gently laid Ivy on the bed. He glanced around his inner chamber and laughed. “I never recognized my own future until this moment.”

  Ivy shifted on the bed. “What do you mean?”

  He pointed to the massive headboard and the bedposts. “Take a look at the carvings.”

  “Yes…they’re vines.”

  “Vines of ivy,” he corrected, sitting down on the bed.

  Touching the carvings, Ivy smiled. “You had your own vision.”

  Conn shrugged and gathered her into his arms. “Fate had a way of weaving my destiny when I chose to carve this bed. It was born of a desire to learn more about the human world. I spent many moons carving the pieces and putting them together.”

  “How old?” she asked, trailing a hand across his chest.

  Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed the vein along her wrist. “Over a thousand years ago.”

  Ivy surveyed the carvings. “The wood shines like it was made only a few days ago.”

  “The thread of your life began within me when my hands carved the first piece of wood.”

  “Although, love was not what you considered in your life.” Sighing, she scooted off the bed and went to stand before the crystal paned window. “So much to comprehend. You. Being a seer. Carrying a child—our daughter.”

  Conn rose and went to her. His chest constricted with fear. Kneeling in front of her, he placed his hand over her abdomen. “Tell me you’re happy, Ivy. If any of this displeases you, I will happily change the stars to give you anything.” Noting the shadows that haunted her eyes, he added, “I cannot bear to see you in any pain.”

  “I’m not,” she reassured, smiling fully. “I love you Conn. Just trying to process all this new information can be daunting.” She paused, biting her lower lip. “Are you happy with the news, especially to find out I’m pregnant?”

  On a moan, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “My love for you is deeper than the cosmos. It fills me more than I can explain. You now carry another precious gift within you besides my heart. Our child.” Standing, Conn cupped her face. “When we are married, I shall proclaim my binding vows out loud for you to hear.”

  When she lifted her head, love radiated within her eyes “And you shall hear mine.”

  Conn lifted her and brought her back to their bed. “You do realize your life is now in this world?”

  She gave him a speculative look. “So I gathered. I’ve already been formulating a plan.”

  “Do share,” he urged, kissing the soft spot below her ear.

  Ivy let out a pleasurable sigh. “I would like to make Nan and Roger co-owners of the bookstore. If Nan wishes, she can also stay at the cottage. I believe it’s time she moved away from Peter.”

  “What about the one year contract?”

  “I’m gifting it to the people—Nan and Roger, so I believe it’s all within the legal parameters. Actually, I won’t sign over the deed until my one year is up. I’ll have Sean draw up the papers.”

  Conn skimmed her thigh with his fingers. “Impressive.”

  She arched under him and nipped him on the chin. “It’s intriguing to think that you knew so many of my ancestors. What would Bradon Finnegan have thought if he knew that one day, you were fated to meet and fall in love with his descendant? Wish we could find that lost painting.”

  Conn’s hand stilled. Bolting upright, he used magic to quickly dress them both for cold weather.

  “You have got to stop doing this,” she protested, her eyes narrowing at him. “I prefer to dress myself. In fact, I was getting ready to take off said clothes.”

  He held out his hand. “Curious as to what the keys may open?”

  Ivy’s eyes widened in alarm. “You’ve figured it out?” She jumped off the bed and ran over to her purse. Pulling them out, she handed the keys to him.

  “I’ve been attempting to put the puzzle pieces together.” Conn watched the play of emotions on her face.

  Jabbing a finger into his chest, she ordered, “Show me.”

  Grabbing her around the waist, he whispered against her cheek. “Close your eyes.”

  In an arc of light, he brought them both outside the ruins of Castle Lintel. A light dusting of snow covered the place, creating an illuminating glow in the fading daylight. Unprepared for the weather, he quickly made sure Ivy was cloaked in hat, gloves, and a warmer coat.

  “Just present the clothes, instead of dressing me,” she protested once again.

  Conn ignored her grumbling and handed the keys to her. “Stay here. I’m going to check inside the area which would have been the main hall.”

  “Nope. I’m coming with you,” she argued, stepping past him and entering the main portion of the castle.

  “I can freeze you where you stand.”

  Halting, she looked over her shoulder and gave him a scathing look. “Fine. But when all is secure, come and fetch your weak maiden.”

  Conn reached for her hand and squeezed gently. “As I was planning.” Kissing the tip of her nose, he vanished and materialized inside the Great Hall.

  Damp cold greeted him as he stood and looked around the place. The ruins were remarkably intact as he cautiously made his way over to the large hearth. How many times had he feasted here with Finnegan? If he closed his eyes, he could make out the voices—boasting of stories, smells of rich food, and lively music. Placing a hand against the stone, he smiled recalling the fond memories. “So many my friend.”

  Walking to the far right end of the massive fireplace, he felt around the sides of the crumbling stones and wood paneling. Pushing with his fingers, he continued to explore the area until he felt one of the larger stones move under his touch. Conn shoved harder the next time and was rewarded with a click. The panel to the right moved a fraction. Musty air assaulted his senses, along with Ivy’s shouting and demanding he come fetch her.

  Waving his hand upward, he brought her forth inside the hall and to his side. Grasping her firmly against his chest, he arched a brow. “Happy now?”

  Ivy shoved at him. “You could have warned me.”

  Conn silenced her further protests with a kiss. Breaking free, he pointed to the gap in the wall. “A
secret passage.”

  “To where?” she asked, trying to see inside the hole.

  “We’re about to find out.”

  Holding his palm upward, Conn blew across the opening and light illuminated the dark interior. Surveying the place inside, he noted stone stairs leading downward. Grabbing the paneling, he tore it free from the wall. Noting the descent, he turned toward Ivy. “Stay here. The stones are damp. I cannot risk injury to you, mo ghrá, or to our child.” He was keenly aware of her scrutiny, but prayed she would comply.

  Surprising him, Ivy squeezed his hand. “Be careful.”

  “Always,” he reassured and started to descend the stone stairs.

  Conn continued to expand the area with light, and as the stairs veered to the left, he followed them and then came to a halt. He stood before a massive rotting door. Pulling out the keys, he attempted to put one inside the lock. Yet, it wouldn’t budge. Fumbling for the second one, he sucked in a breath and inserted the key inside. Instantly, he was rewarded when he heard it give, and he pushed the door open. Bringing forth the light inside the place, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Chuckling softly, he glanced around the aging chamber. “So this is where you stashed your wine, Cramar.” The Earl of Lintel was known for his vast collection, but had kept it a secret from everyone, including his children. He died before revealing the cellar, causing an uproar among his many sons.

  Scanning the area to make sure it would be safe for Ivy, he went to retrieve her. Conn found her pacing by the open paneling.

  “Care to see what I’ve found?”

  “Yes!”

  He gathered her into his arms and brought her to the wine cellar. “Impressive, but this all belongs to you. One of the keys unlocked the secret that held the whereabouts of the lost wine.” Conn leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “For decades, the Earl of Lintel’s sons searched everywhere, including the caves in the hills. They believed their father had stashed all the wine away from the castle. There weren’t any building documents to refer to and the earl never disclosed where he kept his immense collection.”

  Ivy perused the area. “Why not?”

  Conn moved away from the wall. “Because the earl deemed he would live a long and hearty life.”

  “And did he?”

  “No. He died in a riding accident at the age of thirty-five.”

  Ivy continued to move along the cellar. “I wonder if the wine is any good?”

  “It most certainly was when last I drank from a bottle.”

  She regarded him for a moment and then shook her head. “I keep forgetting the life you led.”

  Conn stepped in front of her. “Nevertheless, it did not truly begin until you walked into my life.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “So this was the treasure after—” Slipping free from his arms, she made her way to an alcove. “Conn…”

  “Yes, I see it, too.” Bringing the light farther inside the tiny place, they both stared in awe.

  A long wooden box stood upright in the back corner. Conn pulled forth the smaller key. “Care to wager that this key belongs to the box?”

  Ivy grabbed his arm. “I say yes, and if it does, you will grant me a day at the waterfall.”

  His smile turned wicked as he stepped near her. “And if it doesn’t, you will have to watch me swim in the water by the stones.”

  She smacked at him playfully. “Not if I’m naked on those stones.”

  Conn roared with laughter. “Deal.”

  Stepping inside, he pulled the box from its hiding place, removing the cobwebs that graced its exterior. Taking it over to a table, he held the key out for Ivy. “You do the honor.”

  Her hand trembled as she took the key. Glancing down, she swiped at the dust. “It’s beautiful.”

  Conn watched as she fitted the key inside the lock. The latch opened and Ivy lifted the lid. “Could it be,” she whispered, bringing forth a long leather pouch. “Move the box off the table, please.”

  Complying, he asked, “You know?”

  Ivy glanced at him sideways. “Didn’t you mention that Bradon Finnegan loved to stay here?”

  “Yes,” he responded slowly.

  “I really shouldn’t without gloves, but I’m too excited. Grab the other end” Gently, Ivy undid the bindings and unrolled the leather pouch. The colors of the painting stood out within the cellar.

  “By the Gods,” uttered Conn in shock.

  “It’s not the lost painting of The Meeting of the Warriors, but another one,” gasped Ivy looking up at him.

  He shook his head. “Correct, because I have the original hanging in my chambers.”

  “What?”

  Conn shrugged. “I’m sorry, but after Finnegan’s death, he stated that it was to be gifted to me.”

  Ivy glared at him. “You never said anything, and I didn’t come across the painting in your chambers.”

  Staring at the images in front of him, he nodded slowly. “It’s in an alcove between two bookcases. I kept meaning to show you.”

  “Then what is this one, and why didn’t Bradon ever display it anywhere? Actually, it’s more stunning in color, design, and landscape.”

  Sighing, Conn lifted his head. “The fourth warrior is Rory MacGregor. At the time, he did not believe Finnegan should be painting or sketching any Fae. He deemed it could bring about harm to his people and ours. In truth, Rory was in a dark place. He’d recently returned from the past in Ireland where the new and old religions were raging a war. We, the other two warriors tried to convince him otherwise, but he would not hear of it. Brushed us off that day and never came back.” Casting his gaze once more to the painting, he added, “Finnegan drew his exact likeness from that very first meeting. A true and gifted man.”

  “They are all striking men, including you.” She lifted her gaze to meet his.

  “I will show you the other painting when we return.”

  Ivy slowly rolled the painting up within the leather. “You do realize how valuable this lost artwork is, Conn?”

  “Millions,” he stated, tying the ends of the pouch. Gently placing in back inside the box, he closed the lid. “What will you do with it?”

  Her expression stilled and grew serious. “Hang it next to the other one.” She took his hand and wove her fingers through his. “Take me home. We have a wedding to plan.”

  Bringing their joined hands to his chest, he lifted the box into his other arm. Leaning near her ear, he whispered, “Close your eyes.”

  Her laughter filled him as they left the ruins of Castle Lintel.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “The prince bestowed the princess with a crystal pendant of his tears as a wedding gift.”

  ~Prince Conn’s gift to his wife, Princess Ivy

  Ivy glanced at the reflection of the woman staring back at her from the looking glass. Gone was the frightened girl who arrived in Ireland months ago, and in her place was the future princess of the Fae. Gowned in a shimmering white sleeveless dress with pearls and crystals, she looked ethereal as the dress flowed down her body, trailing behind her. Her Fae attendants had woven more tiny seed pearls within her hair, and her face glistened with a rosy color, making her eyes more colorful.

  There are those who say faerytales do not exist. They are only for the young, but Ivy now knew better. She’d stepped into her own tale of adventure. Unbelievable? To some, yes. Even in the early hours of dawn, she’d had her own doubts of the world she’d entered. However, one glance at the man—the Fae lying next to her, banished all her fears. He was her prince and soon to be husband. In this life and the next.

  Glancing down, she placed her hands over her abdomen. “My wee Sorcha. I so love your father, and you already fill me with such happiness.”

  Turning away from the mirror, Ivy went to brush her fingers over her cloak. Queen Nuala had presented the item to her earlier in the morning. The material was woven from a special thread used by the Fae and adorned with whit
e rose-tipped feathers. Many hands had worked on the cloak, infusing their love inside with each stitch. When she brought it out, the material shimmered.

  Giddy with happiness, Ivy slipped her feet into the soft satin slippers and walked toward the open doors to the balcony. Soon, the attendants would return and escort her to the Cathedral of Trees.

  “Conn,” she breathed his name on a sigh.

  Noting the first star in the evening sky, the air grew warm around her. The colors in the garden became distorted—muted, and she rubbed her eyes. In an arc of bright colors, a young woman in white appeared on the steps of the balcony. Her ebony hair flowed around her in soft waves to her waist. A silver circlet of vines surrounded her head. The woman radiated beauty, love, and the looks of another.

  Startled, Ivy blinked. Recognition flared inside her, and she took a step forward. “You’re Conn’s sister.”

  The woman smiled fully and came toward Ivy. She inclined her head slightly. “Yes, and you’re the woman who captured my brother’s heart.”

  “I’m delighted you’re here. Conn mentioned you, but stated you weren’t able to leave the temple.”

  Her musical laughter filled the place. “As if anyone could keep me away from my brother’s wedding. Please call me Abela. If you would permit me, I would like to escort you to the Cathedral of Trees. When a Fae is given to her intended, the priestess leads the procession. I have asked for the honor. In addition, the other priestesses will follow us inside the cathedral.”

  Overcome with emotion, Ivy nodded.

  Abela lightly touched Ivy’s cheek. “Oh, little sister, how I have longed to see this day. It is a celebration like no other. You have given my brother the greatest gift. Your love and in doing so, filled his soul with love. Now here is my gift to you.”

  Ivy stared at the crystal teardrop pendant dangling from a silver chain. Various colors of blues and pinks sparkled inside. “It’s exquisite.”

  Placing the pendant over Ivy’s head, she then stood back. “They are Conn’s tears. Never before had I heard him weep. When a Fae weeps, we all mourn or celebrate in joy. Since we are twins, our bond is much stronger. I made this gift, so you will always understand the depth of his love. It is eternal. Forever, Ivy.”