by Sumida,Amy
“She wouldn't, not Fand,” Lugh whispered brokenly.
“No, of course not,” I said immediately, and shot Cian a quelling look.
Smart High King that he was, Cian read everything my look was trying to convey, and his anger banked under concern for his child. He eased forward in his seat towards Lugh.
“I may be mistaken, it was so long ago,” he said gently. “Perhaps there is another reason behind her actions.”
“No,” Lugh looked up at Cian. “I don't think you are mistaken. Tell me this, Father,” both men paused to savor the word, “why did you leave my mother? If her husband wasn't the issue, then why?”
Cian gave a little start, and pulled back into his chair. He looked to Meara and she nodded serenely. Whatever had transpired between Cian and Ethniu, it didn't threaten Meara in the least.
“Your mother and I had a passionate romance,” Cian began. “I was very fond of her. She was an amazing woman, wise and brave. But it wasn't love, and it wasn't strong enough to survive the first Battle of Mag Tuired. I couldn't bear to watch my friends kill each other, and I pleaded for peace between the Tuatha and Formorians. But no one listened to me. Not even Ethniu. We argued, and I returned to Faerie, where I found the love I was looking for with Meara. Ethniu never told me she had conceived or I would have returned to claim you myself.”
“Why didn't she keep me?” Lugh asked, sounding like a little boy.
“I'm not certain,” Cian sighed, “but she would have known how important you'd be to me and Faerie. I believe she would have sacrificed herself for the greater good. That was your mother, honorable to a fault.”
“I wish I could have known her,” Lugh's eyes were going glassy.
“You still can,” I offered. “She probably came through with... Elatha. Oh... didn't Lugh mention how this knowledge of his birth came out?”
“No, we didn't get to that yet,” Cian said stiffly. “What did you mean when you said, 'She probably came through with Elatha'?”
“Oh um,” I looked at Lugh, and then back to Cian. “So I almost forgot, I have a letter for you from King Dagda.”
I handed it over, and Cian's eyes narrowed on the seal as if he could remelt the wax with his gaze.
“I am disinclined to read it,” Cian huffed. “Dagda was partly responsible for keeping my child away from me for millenia.”
Lugh's face shut down.
“In his defense,” I offered gently. “Dagda and the others were only doing what they thought was best for you and Lugh. They didn't know that his faerie essence would be complete, allowing you to acknowledge him as your heir. They believed they were saving you both a lot of pain.”
“Perhaps. But fully Fey or not, I would have been proud to raise my son,” Cian broke the seal, but then stopped and looked up at me. “You never answered my question. Did the Formorians escape the prison the Tuatha banished them to?”
“Yes,” Lugh answered for me. “Bres used a magic condenser to open a gate and free the Formorians.”
Cian and Meara both inhaled sharply.
“A magic condenser,” Meara leaned forward in her seat.
“You didn't tell me that Bres had a faerie amulet,” Arach looked to me in shock.
“I didn't know it was one,” I blinked back at him.
“I gave it to Nuada when he ruled Ireland,” Cian scowled. “It was meant to be used to unite his people in times of war, but it went missing shortly before the first Battle of Mag Tuired. I'd like to know how Bres came to possess it.”
“I'm sure Nuada would as well,” Arach grimaced.
I instantly wondered why Bress would leave the magic condenser behind if it was so powerful. And why Nuada hadn't mentioned the condenser's origins when Odin had shown it to him. The fight with Morrigan had been vicious. I suppose the amulet could have fallen from Bres' pocket without him realizing it. But as for Nuada, I couldn't figure out why he'd withhold information like that. I suppose I shouldn't judge Nuada since I was about to do some withholding of my own. I knew I should tell King Cian of the condenser's whereabouts, but something stopped me. Just a feeling that the magic condenser would be safer in Odin's hands. And I try to go with my instincts. Especially now that a little bit of Aednat was back with me. So instead of sharing, I changed the subject.
“Aren't you even a little happy that Ethniu and her people have been freed?” I asked Cian. “You sound like you were sympathetic to the Formorians.”
“For Ethniu, I'm glad, yes,” Cian shot a look to his son, who was in turn staring at him intensely. “But the Formorians... they hold a dangerous magic.” Cian transferred his gaze to me suddenly, his eyes going wide. “They are similar to our dark fey; good people at heart, noble and wise. But the lure was too much for them. The Formorians became power drunk, maddened by their own magic, and we couldn't reason with them. They had to either be confined or killed. The Tuatha chose confinement, and I supported their decision.”
“But I thought you wanted peace?” I asked. “You left because of the fighting.”
“That was after the first battle,” Cian sighed. “Before Bres took the throne, and proved that peace wasn't possible.”
“It's true,” Lugh nodded. “I was forced to kill my own grandfather at the last battle. He would have poisoned the land, and starved the Irish people if I hadn't. I didn't know Balor well, but he was still my blood, and it hurt my heart to kill him.”
“Oh,” I shared a look with Kirill.
“Why did you look at him like that?” Arach hissed at me, and Rian, whom he had just finished feeding, hissed at him. “Cease, Son,” Arach growled to our boy. “This is between your mother and me.”
“Morrigan was there when the Formorians were released,” I confessed. “She wanted to fight them, but I stopped her. She was terribly outnumbered, and would have undoubtedly been killed. But I wasn't ready to back her in a fight I knew nothing about. So I stopped them, and let the Formorians go.”
“Oh,” Arach blinked and then nodded, “well done. I agree with your practicality.”
“You do?”
“I don't want you risking yourself for others,” Arach sniffed and I grimaced.
“Da,” Kirill gave Arach an approving nod, “she is mother now.”
“Oh not you too,” I rolled my eyes.
“It was honorably done, Queen Vervain,” Cian said supportively. “You had no way of making an informed decision. At least you saved Morrigan. She's rather headstrong, that one.”
“No kidding,” I huffed.
“Father, the letter,” Lugh nodded to the letter in Cian's hands.
“Oh, yes,” Cian sighed, but opened the folded parchment and started to read. Then he sat back in his throne and stared into the distance. “He begs my forgiveness for keeping my son from me.”
Meara took her husband's hand, rocking Brevyn to sleep in the crook of her other arm. She had the mommy moves down.
Cian looked to his wife, and smiled softly at the maternal image she presented before going on. “And he asks for assistance in returning the Formorians to their undersea prison. Or if that be impossible, for our aid in a war against them.”
“War,” Meara whispered.
“I cannot, Meara,” he turned to her. “I may not have loved her, but Ethniu is the mother of my son. I won't slaughter her people nor will I send them back into that hell.”
“I know,” Meara said gently. “And I don't want you to.”
“What do you want, Lugh,” Cian turned to his son. “Give me your counsel. What do you think we should do?”
We all went silent and stared at Lugh.
“Demand Fand's head in payment for what she's done,” Lugh said hollowly.
We all gaped at him.
“Harsh,” Kirill whispered from my right.
“They won't give her to you,” Lugh shook his head. “But it will provide you with the opportunity to accuse her of her crimes, bringing her duplicity to the attention of the Tuatha. And under the light of your acc
usations, you will be within your rights to ask for her death as payment for your assistance. In this way, you will circumvent any obligation you feel to help the Tuatha Dé Dannan while simultaneously preventing them from further requests of your assistance.”
“Sweet Faerie,” Cian whispered. “You're brilliant. I've been blessed with an heir and a wise counselor in one man.”
“And I am blessed as well,” Lugh said decisively, obviously pushing the pain away. “Yesterday I was a forgotten god, but today, I'm a prince of Faerie.”
“No, Son,” Cian shook his head and nodded to Brevyn, now asleep in the High Queen's slobber-less arms (how she managed that I'll never know). “There lies a prince of Faerie, and he is undoubtedly a wondrous being. But you are the High Prince of all Faerie, and that is something a sliver more impressive.”
“He's trying to say that you're the most awesome faerie in the room, next to him and his wife,” I laughed. “He just didn't want to offend my husband.”
“You must allow me my diplomacy, Queen Vervain,” Cian chided me. “How am I to be a king if you insist on shining a light on my shadowy tact?”
“My wife has a tendency to illuminate the truth, no matter how harsh it is. She doesn't even try, it comes naturally,” Arach shrugged. “But you needn't have made the effort, High King. Rank is rank, there's no offense in it.”
“Unless you don't have any,” I muttered to Lugh and Kirill.
“I shall mirror Dagda in the morning,” Cian declared. “For now, let's forget about the Tuatha and the escaped Formorians. Let's focus instead on our good fortune and the warmth of family around us.”
“Here's to the new High Prince of Faerie,” I lifted my glass to Lugh.
A hush went through the room as word of the toast spread down the spiral. Every faerie lifted a glass, the High King included. Lugh nodded in regal acceptance, like a true prince. But then, he had been a god, and even though the humans forgot him, it would have been much harder for him to forget their worship. You get used to stuff like that.
We all drank to Lugh and then he lifted his glass to me.
“And to the woman who has just changed my life,” he gave me a sweet smile, “in a way I never expected a woman to. Thank you, Queen Vervain, for uniting me with my true family. Thank you for your harsh truths.”
“Here! Here!” Cian pounded the table before taking a long swallow.
I eyed Brevyn, but he slept on peacefully, despite the outbursts around him.
“How about a dance then, High Prince?” I nodded to the area outside the spiral which was beginning to fill with cavorting faeries.
“I'd be honored,” Lugh stood.
“Careful with that one, Son,” Cian warned as Lugh passed behind him. “She'll snatch you up and add you to her collection. She has a penchant for royal men.”
“Now you've stumbled into offensive waters, High King,” Arach snapped as Kirill growled.
“My apologies,” Cian held up his hands, but continued to grin. “It's not often that I find myself in the company of one of Queen Vervain's other husbands,” he nodded to Kirill. “It's loosened my tongue.”
“A little too loose, dear,” Meara muttered to him. “Reel it back in.”
“Don't hurt the High King, you two,” I said to Arach and Kirill as I stood. “Come on, Prince.” I took Lugh's offered arm. “Let's blow off some steam.”
“Yes, please,” Lugh smiled wide.
I led him out of the spiral, pulling him resolutely past the well-wishers who tried to stop us.
“The Fey are volatile people,” I observed casually.
“Oh?”
“Haven't you ever experienced uncontrollable rage or an all-consuming passion?”
“Hasn't everyone?” he shrugged.
“No and that's my point,” I nodded. “Faeries often find themselves slaves to their element. It can be a wondrous thing, like the love I share with my husbands. But it can also be a hopeless ache.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Queen Vervain?” he stopped to stare at me.
“Fand,” I said gently. “She did a horrible thing, but I have a feeling that she did many more wonderful things for you over the years. You wouldn't look so stricken if she hadn't.”
“Her good deeds do not negate her evil ones,” he said stiffly.
“Don't they? What does your heart say? Do you want to remember her as the woman who stole your life or the woman who gave you a new one?”
“You are the woman who gave me a new life,” he kissed my hand, and escorted me to the dance floor. Then he stopped and looked around at the dancers. “I'm afraid I don't know this dance.”
“It doesn't matter,” I grinned. “Let's dance as we like. You're the High Prince after all, you'll have them wanting to imitate you.”
“I'm a little overwhelmed by the intensity of their welcome,” he admitted as he swept me up against his chest.
“Passionate people,” I nodded, “just as I said.”
I stared up into his beautiful golden eyes and smiled. He looked perfect among the shining throng. His faerie features combined with his thick build made him stand out without being foreign. He was a giant among them in several ways, and they were awed, as I was. He was every inch the faerie prince, and I told him so. Told him of all my thoughts on him. I don't have much of a filter.
“My father was right,” Lugh grinned down at me, and shifted me closer. “I need to be wary of you.”
“Hardly,” I huffed, pushing myself a little away as I nodded to the women around the room, staring at their new prince with covetous eyes. “You'll have your hands full of women more beautiful than I, very soon. Just look at them for more than five seconds and they'll come running, I'm sure.”
“A humble queen?” he cocked his head at me. “I didn't think such a thing existed.”
“Not humility exactly,” I shrugged. “I can be as vain as anyone else. It's just that tendency of mine to speak the brutal truth. I'm really bad at lying, so it's just easier this way.”
“I admit, I'm looking forward to getting to know my people better,” he waggled his winged brows at me, “especially the ladies. They're even more beautiful than goddesses.”
“I know,” I sighed.
I had lamented that fact when I first arrived in Faerie. It was hard enough to be compared to goddesses all the time, but being compared to faerie women was a complete nightmare. Even with the extra dose of beauty I gained from Aphrodite's magic, I didn't stand a chance. Insecurity was a constant battle, so I generally tried to just accept it and not obsess about it.
“But if you think these women outshine you, Queen Vervain,” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “then you need a new mirror, because the one you're gazing into is showing you a faulty reflection.”
There was that word again: mirror. Was my reflection faulty or was it more real than I was? Damn that imaginary grinning cat and his sage sounding riddles.
“Now who's the one to watch out for?” I smacked his chest as I tried to ignore the shiver in my own. “Save those lines for your new conquests, Prince. There are women who are practically panting to get into your... well, pants.”
“You are brutal,” he chuckled. “But I find that I enjoy your brutality. Maybe it's the warrior in me.”
“Good, so very few appreciate it,” I huffed. “I'd like to give you one piece of advice though, if I may: choose wisely. The first lover you take in Faerie will be noted... as will your treatment of her.”
“I would never mistreat a woman,” he vowed, suddenly serious.
“No, I'm sure you wouldn't,” I agreed. “I just wanted you to be aware of your new faerie passions, and how they'll be watched avidly.”
“Ah, yes,” his eyes strayed back to where we'd both left our families. “I've heard of your passions as well, Cousin.”
“Have you?”
“Who hasn't heard of the Godhunter who married gods?” He winked at me. “A dragon king and a werewolf prince. My father was right, yo
u do like your royalty.”
“Kirill was a prince once too. Son of a Russian Tzar,” I shrugged. “And Azrael is technically the Prince of Hell.”
“And Odin rules Asgard,” Lugh nodded. “Do you ever date commoners?” He had a twinkle in his eye.
“Of course not,” I put on a snooty accent. “I am too important to waste time on peasants. My latest lover is the Sun God, Re,” I mimicked Re's intonation perfectly, and Lugh laughed loud and long. Several faerie women sighed appreciatively.
“You have four... no wait, five husbands and a boyfriend?” Lugh's eyes went wide. “I'm impressed. But how do you keep them all happy?”
“That's a damn good question,” I grimaced as I caught sight of two of my husbands and their stares of doom. “I think I'm presently failing in that regard.”
“Oh my,” he followed my gaze. “Perhaps I should take you back to your husbands.”
“No,” I pulled away as I pushed him back to the dance floor. “Stay and get to know your people. I can navigate the faerie spiral on my own.”
“Vervain,” he dropped my title, and went deathly serious. I froze as his hand slid over mine, holding it to his chest. “Do you think we'll go to war?”
“We, as in the Fey?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What about we, as in the Tuatha?”
“Yes, definitely,” I sighed.
“Will you help them?”
“The Tuatha Dé Dannan?” I was shocked. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I can't anymore.”
“I can't either,” I looked to Kirill, and remembered my vow. “If I do, I may lose Kirill. There's been a prophecy about his death.”
Lugh frowned, and looked down at my hand, still placed to his chest.
“But I will see what other aid I can offer them,” I found myself promising.
“Thank you,” he pulled me into a hug. “I had no right to ask,” he whispered against my hair. “And yet you answered with compassion and honor. I will remember that, Queen Vervain.”
“You can just call me Vervain,” I winked at him when I pulled away. “Or Cousin, that works too.”