Rumann in her arms, Clíodhna tramped to the other edge of the pond where thorny reeds had caught a young naiad’s gossamer fins. With careful fingers, she untangled the young thing. When it came free, with only a small tear on one fin, she bobbed three times in thanks and disappeared under the water. Her mother offered more substantial gratitude—a hug and a tear, before she followed her daughter.
After she helped the naiad, other Fae came to her for help. Caught wings, lost objects, spoiled food, each one required assistance of some type. Sometimes she could help the Fae, others she couldn’t. At least trying made her feel useful.
Rumann delighted in the creatures and learned what he might get away with for each Fae. A few sharp raps with beetle wings or a lash with a whipping tail taught him to be gentle with each of them, and how much teasing would be permitted.
Her son seemed to be learning how to survive in Faerie.
* * *
After she’d extracted a thorn from a Grugach’s fleshy foot, the creature’s eyes grew wide with abject fear and he fled into the tall grasses. The three sprites who had been playing with Rumann followed suit, and the two humans remained alone in the clearing.
The ever-present light grew dim, so Clíodhna gathered her son into the safety of her arms and ran for the relative shelter of the roundhouse. Weather didn’t exist in Faerie. While that meant she needn’t fear heat, cold, or rain, she also couldn’t call upon her greatest source of power. The earth would listen to her call, but she had yet to learn how to control the much stronger magic of the land of Faerie. She’d been working with this new entity, under Adhna’s cautious tutelage. She didn’t yet have the skill she needed to defend herself.
The light continued to dim, and her panic rose. Rumann fussed against her chest, gripping her hair and pulling hard as he reacted to her fear.
“Ow! Hush, Rumann. Shh.”
“You need not silence your spawn, human.”
She’d feared Bodach had found them, but the voice which boomed through the valley sounded female. Powerful, confident, and strident. Adhna, where are you?
“Human woman, calling for your protector will do little good. He is powerless next to me.”
She cowered behind the table, wrapping herself around her son. She didn’t give in to such fear often, but this voice incited terror that gripped her bones.
The door darkened and a cold wind whipped into the roundhouse, making everything fly in a confusing mess. Wind? Where had wind come from? Faerie had no wind.
“Faerie has what I say it has, woman. Show yourself.”
Her body moved of its own accord, her knees straightening. She maintained her death grip on Rumann but she wouldn’t hide any longer. She rose and lifted her chin, despite fear shooting through her heart with increasing panic.
The woman before her, if such a mundane term might apply to her, stood tall, taller than any woman Clíodhna had ever seen. Taller than Oisinne had been, or Pátraic. Unlike some Lesser Fae, she wasn’t slender or dainty. She had muscles and solid thighs, rounded curves. The clothing covering these curves shifted in radiance as she stood, shifting from brilliant greens to soft blues, icy whites and vivid yellows. Clíodhna blinked before this brilliance, despite the dimness in the roundhouse and the darkened sky outside.
Long, white curls framed an imperious, snow-white face with piercing black cat eyes. Her hands planted on her hips, several tiny winged Fae peered around her form at Clíodhna and Rumann, curiosity clear in their faces.
Three tall male Fae stood outside, their stiff postures and bronze spears indicating their position as guards.
“There you are. Give me the child.” Her voice split through Clíodhna’s head and commanded obedience.
Clíodhna began to stretch her arms out but fought against the compulsion and pulled back. “No! You may not take my baby.”
She laughed, the low rumble of a thunderstorm across the sea. “I will not take him from you, mortal creature. I wish to examine him. A child borne of Fae is unusual enough that it requires my attention, especially when it’s born in my very realm.”
With great reluctance, Clíodhna gave into the coercive power of the woman and placed Rumann into her arms.
With lightning speed, Queen Áine, for so she must be, shifted from commanding ruler to adoring mother. She beamed at the child, tickling his feet and chuckling at the giggle she elicited.
“The babe seems healthy. You may keep him.” Queen Áine handed Rumann back, and Clíodhna clutched him tight. She tried to swallow away her nerves, but something blocked her throat. She wished Adhna would return. Rumann, startled by all the movement, fussed and chewed on her shoulder.
The Queen stared at Clíodhna, as if gazing into her very soul. Clíodhna tried to stare back into those black cat eyes. She fell into their depths, as if hurtling down an endless pit. Her mind screamed as she fell, unable to look away or save herself.
Her strength against the Faerie Queen broke after only a few moments. She daren’t look away, but she blurred her vision. Once blurred, she cast her gaze down to the Queen’s feet, a safer target than her eternal, dangerous eyes.
“You have gained much influence here. Did you think I wouldn’t notice such a shift in my power base?”
The words chilled Clíodhna even further. She bowed low in respect. “I had no intention of subverting your power, my Queen. This home is isolated, and I tried to make friends in my new home.”
“I do not like you, mortal woman. I do not want you living in my kingdom. However, the marsh Fae and some wild Fae have spoken for you. Adhna is your loyal champion. Also, you have borne a child of Fae blood. For those reasons, I shall allow you to remain, but only under certain conditions.”
Clíodhna waited. She’d been unaware of such political machinations going on while she fiddled with carving and telling stories. How many favors had Adhna pulled to be her champion? What had it cost him?
“You will raise the child by Fae standards and with Fae tutelage for as long as he dwells in Faerie. You will attend me as a handmaiden as he grows. As my handmaiden, you will sing me your human songs each night.”
Clíodhna’s eyes grew wide. “You’ve heard of them?”
The Queen’s gentler manner disappeared. “I hear of everything that happens in my realm!”
Falling to her knees from the force of the Queen’s disapproval, Clíodhna bowed again. “I accept these conditions. What will my duties be as handmaiden, other than singing?”
“You will swear your loyalty to me, in word and in deed. Should you break this vow, your punishment will be swift and permanent. Attend me when Adhna returns from his current mission.”
When Clíodhna dared look up, the Queen and her entourage had disappeared. The sky lightened to its former brightness, and the oppression of power lifted. Clíodhna let out a long, shuddering breath.
What had she just done? She had barely considered her answer when she accepted a contract from not only a Faerie, but the Queen. Had all those stories of caution about such things been in vain? She cursed herself for being a prime fool and hugged her son.
Chapter Nine
Clíodhna worked herself up into a worried frenzy over her thoughtless actions. She paced back and forth each day, weighing her options, what she should have said, what she might do now, what her decision would mean for her son, every aspect of what had happened.
Try as she might, she couldn’t find a way out of her vow. Unless she convinced the Queen to release her, she may now be forever bound, subject to the Queen’s whim. The Queen had power over Clíodhna’s bodily actions, and might compel her to say things even when she wished to remain silent.
Had she even been the one to vow loyalty? Or had that been the Queen’s compulsion? She shook her head for the thousandth time. She shouldn’t dither like this, but with nothing else to do, she stewed within her situation over and over.
Inside her head, the possibilities of what might have happened whirled like a waterspout, around and aroun
d, making no headway and solving no problems. Rumann whimpered for attention, but Clíodhna ignored her babe for the ruminations of her encounter with the Faerie Queen.
Flashes of memory intruded on her imagination. The intense blue of the Queen’s outfit, the endless depths of her black eyes, the flutter of wings from the Fae attendants. The glint of sparkling light on the bronze spear heads of the guards. These images swam in with Clíodhna’s plans, constructs, and wild possibilities.
When Adhna returned, three sleeps later, Rumann’s cries had grown desperate and hoarse. He had curled up around his mother’s leg, tired of tugging at her for attention. She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring into space, ignoring her son. Old milk stains crusted under her léine. Her hair flew in unkempt tendrils. Her face remained slack-jawed and her expression blank.
Adhna grasped her shoulders and shook. “Clíodhna? Clíodhna, my love, what happened? Wake up!”
She didn’t move.
He picked up Rumann and patted the boy’s back, quieting his cries. He whimpered and nuzzled his chest, looking for milk. “I’m sorry, Rumann. I can’t feed you. But I can put you in the right place.”
Adhna lifted Clíodhna’s léine, his nose wrinkling at the odor of sour milk. He sent one of the Fae to fetch a washcloth and some water. Once she returned, he tugged the soiled léine over her head and cleaned Clíodhna’s caked breasts.
“Clíodhna? Clíodhna, wake now. Rumann needs you. Open your eyes. Open them, please. It’s Adhna. I’m here to help. Wake up!”
Deep within her throat, Clíodhna let out a low, visceral groan. One hand drifted up to cup Rumann’s hand at her breast. Adhna fetched a comb and untangled her hair with gentle hands, brushing it into smooth waves that fell down her back. He cleaned the first washcloth and rewet it, washing her face and shoulders, hoping the cool water would help to rouse her.
Through much coaxing and placing Rumann at both breasts, another moan escaped her trance. Her eyes fluttered, half-blinking several times before blinking. Despite the mind fog, her gaze became more focused and she looked at him, confusion clear on her face.
Her voice came as a whispered croak. “Adhna? You’re back?”
“I am, and I worried you had left.”
She pursed her lips. “But I’m right here!”
After shaking his head and stroking her head, he said, “You weren’t a moment ago, love.”
“I don’t understand. Is Rumann hurt? He looks like he’s been crying.” She reached for her son, nuzzling him for comfort.
“Rumann survived well enough. He’s fed and happier now. Let’s start by you telling me what happened.”
She told him of the Queen’s visit, her own inability to resist, and her subsequent obsessive examination of her actions. He shrugged with a sad smile. “A common reaction to meeting the Queen. She inspires uncertainty in others, robbing them of all confidence and poise. Either by magic or by words, she has the effect of stealing your belief in yourself. She doesn’t do it on purpose, mind you, but many mortals are thus affected.”
“Will this happen every time I see her? I’m to be her handmaiden! How can I tell stories or sing when I’m worried about every word?”
His smile grew more confident. “No, not every time. Usually just the first encounter is that bad. It may hit you from time to time later, but as you grow used to the effect, you learn how to push it away. I can teach you some tricks. Now, let’s get you a clean léine and a dip in the pond. You, my love, have a powerful odor just now.”
She sniffed at her own chest and grimaced. “Ugh. Yes, please. You might have to help me stand, though. I must have been here for days to be so stiff!”
Adhna helped her to the pond and told her of the court of Queen Áine. “She holds court, though sometimes she conducts business and other times entertainment. Often one morphs into the other. There are great balls and tiny gatherings, all on her whim. I shall prepare you for such a shift, as she’ll expect you to react to her desires. As her handmaiden, she will expect you to listen for gossip and report anything of concern to her.”
“What sort of things would concern her?” Clíodhna scrubbed the grime from her arms and legs, reveling in the cool pond. Several tiny Fae fluttered around her, playing in the splashes. A non-butterfly landed on Rumann’s nose. His eyes crossed trying to look at it.
With a bronze ewer, Adhna poured water over Clíodhna’s hair, the clean water sluicing out several days’ worth of neglect. Then he brushed it out again. “Anything against her rule or influence. Anyone complaining of how she rules her realm. Any complaints at all. In time, you’ll learn to sift out the petty complaints from the serious ones.”
She rubbed the water from her eyes and blinked at him. “Will she grant me that time?”
He shrugged. “There is little telling what she will do regarding you.” He stared at Rumann. “However, there is one thing I am dead certain of.”
With a nervous glance at her baby, Clíodhna shivered. “What?”
“Rumann won’t be safe in Faerie if you’re the Queen’s handmaiden. She is pleased there is a babe of the Fae, but will not tolerate a crying child around her.”
Fear seizing her, Clíodhna backed up several steps. “No! No, you can’t take my last child from me! I’ve lost all of them, and you can’t do that!” She reached for Rumann, and Adhna surrendered the child into her arms with a sad smile.
“The danger is real. Not only will you have little time for his care, but he will be a target for those that wish to influence the Queen. I cannot be with him at all times to protect him. If you have him at the palace, his screams will anger the Queen. His greatest chance is with a human family. Both the Queen and Bodach have less power in the human realm, and it will be easier to hide him there. I will find a couple who have lost a child of their own. They will be eager to raise any child. I’ll try to find someone near your own village.”
Clíodhna had no tears left. First her stillborn baby girl, then Etromma and Donn left in the human realm, and Aileran as well. Frustration and rage bubbled inside her at the injustice of it all as she held Rumann tight. “If he can be so easily hid, why can’t I?”
Adhna bowed his head. “You’ve a bond to Bodach now. His power and yours have intertwined, so he can find you anywhere. Rumann, however, has a chance.”
“No, it’s just not fair!”
Adhna hugged her and Rumann both. “I don’t like this either, Clíodhna. But the life of our son is paramount. We must keep him safe. Don’t you agree?”
Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I’m just not convinced we have to abandon him to make that true!”
“What would Bodach do if he found Rumann here alone?”
Clíodhna had no answer to that, not one she liked, so she sat in sullen silence. With a sudden thought, she asked, “What would Bodach do if he found Rumann with a human family?”
“He won’t. I can hide him with glamor in the mortal world.”
She gritted her teeth. “Very well. I grant leaving him here would be unwise, even in someone’s care. But why shouldn’t I bring him to court?”
“The Queen doesn’t like children, for all she’s thrilled one of the Fae has been born. She doesn’t tolerate such chaos in her court, and has made her position on this clear many times in the past.”
“Chaos? He’s just a child. How much chaos can he create?”
Even as she said the words, she realized their futility. One child’s cry could pierce the ears as well as the Faerie Queen on a good day. With a rueful smile, she admitted to herself that Adhna had the right of it.
“May I at least know with whom you will gift my son? What if Bodach finds him in the mortal realm?”
“Of course. I will find a nice, young couple with a good trade and a sturdy house. I will send frequent emissaries to ensure his good health and maintenance, and they will bring back news. In the human world, I can create a géis against Bodach’s interference. It wouldn’t work in Faerie, but the r
ules are different there.” He took both her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. “I want you to have joy, my love. This will make you much less anxious, knowing someone is caring for your loved ones.”
She leaned into his chest and he hugged her tight. “I hope you’re right, Adhna.”
* * *
Clíodhna knelt in the grand hall, trembling and terrified, but unable to move a muscle. On the dais in front of her, Queen Áine sat in her throne made of living branches, woven into complex knotwork designs. Beside her, a smaller throne of curved stone sat empty. She had no consort to help her rule.
Only a few courtiers stared at the lone human in the Queen’s court. She’d glanced at the gathered on-lookers as she’d marched in. Impossible shades of red and yellow, blue and purple rioted in a rainbow of gossamer fabrics. Few of the Fae court resembled humans. Some had feathers or scales, or skin so vibrant, their clothing faded in comparison.
One, a short, squat toad-like Fae, had given her a solemn nod as she passed, the only sign of encouragement she’d received when summoned to present herself.
Today, she would vow herself to the Queen.
Adhna had found a safe place for Rumann, with a stolid fisherman and his grieving wife. Their own son had died just days before, and they’d welcomed the new child. They even agreed to keep his name Rumann, rather than change it to their dead son’s name, a small favor Clíodhna felt grateful for. In the future, when she returned to the human world, she might still find her children.
After shoving away the sorrow, she steeled herself for her current task.
The Queen, resplendent in white and silver, rose. Her pale skin almost glowed with its own light. Her tall form towered over Clíodhna, even when she descended the dais to stand next to her. She placed both hands upon Clíodhna’s head and chanted unfamiliar words. The language seemed ancient, liquid and alien.
Adhna had used this language for some of his spells, but he had refused to teach Clíodhna. “It is the old language, the language of the gods. No mortal can know the words. The Fae are permitted to use it only under strict conditions, and we cannot pass it on.”
Age of Druids: Druid's Brooch Series: #9 Page 19