by Laura DeLuca
After a few finishing touches to her attire, she left Dagda and Danu asleep on the bed and made her way to the ballroom. When Morrigan entered the packed hall, she saw Tiarn right away. It wasn’t easy to miss his long dreadlocks as he haunted the refreshment table. Even clean-shaven and dressed in the perfectly pressed shirt tails he had undoubtedly borrowed, he looked awkward and out of place amongst the nobility. Morrigan tried to make her way toward him, but she was continuously interrupted. First Brigid approached her, her head bowed in acquiescence.
“You must forgive me, Your Highness. I judged you too harshly. I should have trusted my initial instincts when we first met in the tavern. You seemed so kind. I should not have allowed your mother’s actions to cloud my judgment.”
Morrigan gestured for her to rise. She didn’t think she would ever be comfortable with the whole royalty thing. She felt a greater kinship with the simple inn keeper than any of the finely dressed nobles.
“It’s not your fault,” Morrigan assured her. “After all, I did lie to you, even if it was with the best of intentions.”
Brigid shook her head. “But still, as an elder, I am expected to make wise choices.”
“Even the elders are allowed to make mistakes, Brigid.”
They both turned at the sound of the new voice accompanied by the steady tap of a walking stick. They found Alden waiting with his arms wide open.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Brigid snorted, while Morrigan and Alden exchanged an affectionate greeting. “You always believed in her. You may be blind, Alden, but that certainly does not hinder your ability to see.”
“Yes, well, I knew from the first that she had her father’s heart.”
“Connelly was a good man,” Brigid agreed. She turned back to Morrigan. “It would do his heart proud to see what a fine young woman you have turned out to be.”
Morrigan blushed at the praise, feeling like she really didn’t deserve it when all she had done was take another life to save her own. Still, she chatted with them for a while, enjoying the stories they shared of her father in his youth. She excused herself when she saw Tiarn heading toward the door. She was just about to catch up to the lycan when another man stepped into her path. She smiled and nodded, trying to be polite, but she had no idea who she was talking to.
“Princess Morrigan! I knew you could do it. I am so happy it is my brother’s turn manning the other side of the portal so I could be here to celebrate your glorious victory!”
It wasn’t until the mention of the portal that Morrigan finally realized who the man was. He looked completely different decked out in his fine robes as opposed to the dirty rags he had worn during their last meeting. It wasn’t just the clothes or even the fact he was free of the dirt and soot of the Baltimore alley. Condon, the Gatekeeper, was like a completely different man. His slovenly appearance and missing teeth must have been an illusion because aside from the gentle smile, it was as if she was speaking to an entirely different man.
“And where is my friend, Filtiarn?” he queried. “I would love to tell him I told you so. Oh, not that he ever thought poorly of you, my dear. It was his own strength which he doubted.”
“I am actually trying to find him myself,” Morrigan admitted. “When I do, I’ll be sure to give him your message.”
“Very good. Very good. I will let you go on your way then. I know this is a busy evening for the two guests of honor. I wish you a long life and much happiness in the years to come.”
Condon lifted her fingers to kiss her hand, and Morrigan saw the spiral birthmark that had been her doorway to her true home. She thanked him for his help and once again, tried to find Tiarn in the crowd. This time he was nowhere in sight.
When she didn’t see him, she decided she might as well check in with Arianrhod. She found her sitting on the throne, chatting with the beautiful auburn-haired handmaiden, Deirdre. Her sparkling silver gown was the perfect match to the triple moon crown that graced her forehead. Behind her, the large white owl was perched on its stand, occasionally peeking through one lazy eye at the crowd of party goers who ate, danced, and reveled in their country’s newfound peace. The owl cocked its head as Morrigan approached, which alerted Arianrhod to her arrival. She broke into a smile as she rose from her seat and wrapped her niece in a warm embrace. From her own seat, Deirdre gave her a warm welcome, though she scarcely took her eyes away the queen.
“We have had so little time to talk,” Arianrhod apologized. “You were busy caring for Tiarn, and I have been trying to rectify the damage Ceridwyn has done. But tell me, Morrigan, how are you faring? You have been through so much in the last few weeks.”
Morrigan wanted to say she was fine, but she knew her aunt had ways of reading what was in her soul. She didn’t even fight it when her eyes filled with tears. “Aside from committing matricide, I guess I’m doing okay.”
Arianrhod nodded in understanding. “You grieve for your mother.”
Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. “I hardly knew her, but I guess I’m grieving for what could have been. I feel so guilty about what happened. I mean, I know in my head it was self-defense and she gave me no choice. But somehow it still feels wrong. It makes me worry that maybe a little bit of the evil that was inside of her was passed down to me.”
“I feel much the same in regards to Hecate,” Arianrhod admitted. “However, you must remember no one is all good or all evil. We all create our own destinies with the choices we make. All we can do is try our best, learn from our past, and use that knowledge to grow wiser in the present. In this case, my wisdom tells me that we both did what we had to do. Not only to survive, but to bring peace to our people. No one can fault us for that.”
“I know, but it’s still hard.”
“Well, perhaps this will give you some comfort. You came to Tír na NÓg in search of a mother. I may not have given birth to you, but I feel as though you are the daughter of my heart. Allow me to adopt you. I will be your mother as well as your teacher. And when my rule is over, I will make you my heir.”
“But . . . but,” Morrigan stuttered. “That is very generous of you, Aunt Arianrhod. But what if you have children of your own someday?”
Arianrhod laughed lightly. “I shall lay with no man as my interests lie elsewhere. I have already chosen my life companion.” She gave a meaningful look to the flame-haired maiden beside her. “And though our love is true and deep, no children can come of our union. You can be child to us both, and we will teach you the ways of magic.”
Morrigan felt a few tears sneak free and slide down her cheeks. It was the first time she had let herself cry since she had wept over her mother’s body. In that moment, she had felt like an orphan all over again. But now, looking at the maternal love in Arianrhod’s eyes, she realized it didn’t matter if Ceridwyn had carried her in her womb. In spirit, she truly was the daughter of Arianrhod.
“Thank you,” Morrigan whispered. “You can’t imagine how much this means to me.”
“There is no need for thanks,” Arianrhod replied. “It is you who have given me the greatest gift of all.”
Morrigan hugged Arianrhod and then Deirdre, who she learned was the only daughter of Brigid. While Morrigan knew she had so much to learn about her new family, and she was enjoying the conversation they shared, she remained distracted. From her vantage point, she could see the whole ballroom, and there was no sign of Filtiarn.
“Aunt Arianrhod, have you seen Tiarn?” Morrigan asked. “I have been trying to find him all evening and it seems like he just keeps disappearing on me.”
“Hmmm. Oh, yes. He gave me his apologies and retired to his room some time ago,” Arianrhod told her. “He said his wounds were troubling him.”
Morrigan was instantly concerned. “I hope you won’t think I’m being rude if I leave the party,” she fretted, “but I really should make sure he’s okay.”
Arianrhod gave her that all-knowing stare. “Yes. I think that would be wise.” Just as Morrigan turned to leave,
her aunt reached out to touch her arm. “You chose well with your lycan, Morrigan. He has a good heart and will make a wonderful king someday when he rules by your side.”
Morrigan felt her heart swell with emotion when she realized what Arianrhod was saying. She was so excited, she couldn’t even speak. She squealed girlishly as she gave the queen one last hug before running off in search of Tiarn. He was still staying in an area of the castle where the healers had easy access to him, though he had been given his own private quarters. When she found him there, the smile instantly died on her lips. He was so busy packing up his few meager belongings he didn’t even notice her. His scabbard and sword were already belted to his waist, and he had removed his borrowed finery in favor of his bedraggled animal skins.
“Were you going to leave without even saying goodbye?” Morrigan’s voice quavered.
Tiarn refused to meet her eyes. “I thought it would be easier for both of us. I have never been very good at goodbyes. I planned on leaving you this before I left.” He pulled a rectangular bundle from his bag. “I suppose I might as well give it to you now.”
Tiarn handed her a package wrapped in parchment paper. As soon as she unraveled the twine that bound it, she recognized the worn green cover of her sketchpad. She flipped through the pages, looking back at the places they had visited and people they had met along their journey. She especially loved the drawing of Tiarn playing his pan flute. In the center of the book was the folded note from her father. She lifted it to her heart.
“Thank you, Tiarn,” she whispered. “You don’t know what this means to me.”
“Yes, well, I knew it was dear to you. So I went back to the temple to retrieve it as soon as I was able to,” he explained. “Now, I should really be on my way. I was hoping to leave before sundown, but Queen Arianrhod made me give her my word I’d come to the banquet and—”
“Wait! Just shut up for a minute, would you?” Morrigan interrupted and put the book aside. “What are you talking about, Tiarn? Why would you leave now, after all we’ve been though? You can’t tell me you don’t care about me! Why else would you be here? Why would you have risked your life to come back or wasted your time bringing me this sketchbook if you don’t want to be with me?”
“Of course I care, Morrigan! How could you even think otherwise? It is because I love you that I am leaving. I do not belong in your world! Can you not see that?” He covered his face with his hands. “You are a princess and I am not only a commoner, but a lycan!”
“None of that matters to me, Tiarn. I love you!” Morrigan reached for his hand, but he pulled away. “I know you’ve spent years running away from everyone, but your name has been cleared. You don’t need to run away anymore.”
“Outlaw or no, a lycan has never been welcome in the royal castle. Arianrhod may have tolerated me while I was healing since I did her a service, but the other nobles in the ballroom were none too happy with my presence there. Wolves make people nervous. It would be selfish of me to stay with you when you deserve so much better. I would only bring you shame if I were to remain here. I would rather die than cause you pain.”
Morrigan was frustrated. “What about what I want? Doesn’t that matter?”
“Not when there are laws that forbid it! Don’t you see Morrigan? Now that your mother is gone, there is no hope for us. You cannot change the law.”
“Maybe I can’t, but Arianrhod can!” Morrigan told him. “And like she said in the cavern, there are some rules that are meant to be broken.”
Tiarn’s jaw dropped. “Are you telling me the queen has given us her blessing?”
Morrigan was relieved to see she was finally getting through to him. “Yes, Tiarn. There is nothing left to stand in our way except for your stubbornness.”
Like a man transformed, Tiarn dropped his bag, swept her into his arms, and smothered her with kisses. “Do you know what this means, Morrigan, my love? If the queen has overturned the law, it means we are free to marry—to have a family!”
“Whoa! Slow down there, wolf man!” Morrigan laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think that for now, it just means you’re officially my boyfriend. Let’s talk about marriage and babies in a few years, okay?”
Tiarn nodded. “Whatever you wish, Princess. I have already waited a lifetime to find you. I can wait a little bit longer to make you my wife. Yet there is still one problem.”
Morrigan was confused. “What’s that?”
“They say one of the reasons it was forbidden for a lycan and a witch to unite was because after only one night of passion, he would be forever her slave.”
“Oh, really?” Morrigan kissed him on the mouth, loving the taste of him and the feel of his hands as he explored her body. “That’s one myth I wouldn’t mind putting to the test. Of course, you did say you wanted to wait until we were married.”
He gave her a toothy smile, lifted her up, and carried her to the bed. “As you said, Princess, there are some rules that are meant to be broken.”
Epilogue
“Come now, Morrigan.” Tiarn stood in the corner of the living room, grinning as Morrigan wrapped up her story. Around them, their four children were watching her with wide, innocent eyes. “That was hardly the most amazing story ever told. I think you are exaggerating just a bit.”
Morrigan rolled her eyes at her husband. It hardly seemed possible that fifteen years had passed since they’d met. As Tiarn strutted to her side to place a kiss on her check, he still looked the same as he did the first time she caught a glimpse of him outside her classroom window. Right down to his sarcastic smile.
“Haven’t you ever heard of poetic license?” she asked him. “I was trying to be dramatic.”
He laughed. “You do not need to try to be dramatic, my love. Still, one part of that story was new even to me. You never told me you dreamed of me before our meeting.”
Morrigan shrugged. “I thought you’d tell me I was crazy.”
“No madder than I, because your face haunted my dreams as well.” He pulled her close to sniff her hair. “As did your intoxicating scent.”
“I think it was an amazing story, Mama!” cheered six-year-old Eostre, distracting the couple from their romantic memories. “I love when you tell us stories!”
“Me too,” Filtiarn Jr agreed. He was the youngest of their brood and the only boy. “I loved all the sword fighting.” He jumped up with his wooden sword and made slashing motions in the air. “Someday I want to be captain of the royal guard, just like Papa and Grandpa Connelly.”
Morrigan gave Tiarn a cocky look. “You appear to be outnumbered.”
“It certainly seems that way,” he relented. “I suppose you receive the title of master storyteller, in addition to Princess and heir to the throne.”
“Did it really happen that way, Mama?” Eostre asked. “Did you and Papa really save Auntie Arianrhod? Did you? Did you?”
“Every word your mother said was the truth,” Tiarn declared as he swept his little princess into his arms.
“Gee, Papa, you were kind of a jerk before you got old,” she teased.
Tiarn rolled his eyes. “You are your mother’s daughter.”
“Mama, what’s a maiden head?” Little Tiarn asked.
“Okay, that’s enough storytelling for one night!” Morrigan told them, ignoring the question and ushering the two younger children out of the room. “It’s time for bed! Are you girls coming?”
“Yes, Mother, we will be along in just a few minutes,” said her eldest daughter, Maeve.
Morrigan shrugged her shoulders and took the two little ones to bed, leaving Maeve and her fraternal twin sister Macha staring into the fire, each lost in their own thoughts. Both of the girls were extraordinarily beautiful, even in the awkward stage of puberty. Macha had the dark hair and complexion of her mother, while Maeve was a younger version of her Great Aunt Arianrhod. They were thirteen, and unlike their younger brother and sister, they had inherited the gifts of both their parents. T
hey were witches and changelings—a first for the land of Tír na NÓg. It was rumored that the combined abilities made them the most powerful witches to have ever been born into the royal line. The fear of such awesome power was the very reason why the law forbidding witches and lycans to mate had been created. Once they reached adulthood, there would be no one in the kingdom able to challenge their incredible authority.
“How terrible that our grandmother tried to kill her own sister!” Maeve said. She started to pick up the toys from the ground and put them away into the chest Tiarn had carved for them. “It’s hard to believe anyone would want to hurt Mother or Aunt Arianrhod. I always thought everyone loved them. The people say Arianrhod is the best queen they have had in centuries and Mother will surely follow in her footsteps.”
“I don’t know,” Macha argued. She looked on in disdain as she watched her twin, the elder of the two by five minutes, cleaning up. She had no intention of doing anything so mundane. That’s what the servants were for. “Sometimes I think Aunt Arianrhod is a little too nice for her own good. She lets the commoners walk all over her. Maybe Ceridwyn would have made a better queen.”
Maeve rolled her eyes. “You must be kidding!” She laughed good-naturedly. “Well, at least I know you would never try to do anything so awful to me when it’s my turn to be queen. I’m sure the two of us will work together and make the kingdom even better.”
Maeve didn’t wait for a reply. She shut the toy chest and skipped off to help her mother get the little ones ready for bed. Along the way, she stopped to pat Danu and Dagda, who were old and long since retired from their Guardian duties.
Maeve didn’t notice Macha scowling at her retreating back or realize her sister thought she was degrading herself with menial tasks. She had no way of knowing Macha intended to rule Tír na NÓg once they reached womanhood, no matter what the cost. She had already formulated a plan. She just needed to bide her time. And if someone got hurt along the way—someone like her sweet little twin, well, that was just the way it had to be. Macha would be queen, and she planned to pick up right where her grandmother Ceridwyn had left off.
