There was no interfering with it.
“Release her,” Gwyndolen demanded.
Ignoring the queen, Moros pulled Fallon away from the fae queen and swept his arms around her. He forcefully yanked her body up against his. “Tell me you love me, Fallon.”
Closing in on Fallon, Moros bent over her, his lips coming to within a hairsbreadth from her mouth.
Fallon struggled to break the spell that held her entranced, but she knew very well the gaze of a fae was overwhelmingly captivating. No human would have a chance.
But Fallon was only half human.
“Tell me you love me,” Moros demanded of her once again.
“I love….” Fallon’s heart was sinking. She was about to say the words. Searching her head and her heart, Fallon sought her genuine feelings, reached for them, snatched and took hold of them, fed them to her soul. She wanted her Gaelic warrior, not this repugnant creature named Moros.
Her mouth opened against her will. “I … I….”
Fighting it with all of her faerie might, Fallon yelled loudly. “I love … Kane!”
Her voice came out in an echoing shriek that nearly had the palace quaking and Fallon broke away from both his grasp and his gaze. Holding up her hands she pushed at his chest and then backed away giving him a vehement warning. “Stay away from me, faerie! I do no’ want ye. I shall nev’r want ye!”
Gwyndolen stepped between Fallon and Moros, relieved that her daughter had the strength to break from him, irritated at herself for accepting Moros into the faerie domain when Armond wanted to banish him. She should’ve listened to the king. “If I beseech Demeter will you let her go?”
“Hmm.” Moros tucked one arm over the other and strummed his fingers against his arm as if considering it. He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “No.”
“And why not?” Gwyndolen asked.
“Because I like her.” And because I like annoying you … and the king … and everyone else for that matter.
“Release her or I will not beseech Demeter on your behalf!”
“Either way, I’m afraid you must, my queen.” Armond spoke up, though his voice revealed he was less than enthusiastic about what he was saying. “A promise is a promise, by our decree, and I will see that it’s not broken.”
“Damn decrees!” The faerie queen shook with irritation.
“I warned you.” Armond shrugged. “Moros thrives on misery and doom, Gwyndolen. And there is nothing that I’m willing to do about this particular venture he’s chosen to engage in.”
“Willing to do?” Gwyndolen repeated his words. She knew precisely what he meant by the word and she scowled at him for the purpose in it.
Truth be told, Armond, as fae king had the power to command Moros to release Fallon, but if the queen was able to persuade Demeter to denounce Moros’ punishment, Armond would rather have the Greek fae pawing a half-breed druid, than drooling over Gwyndolen from now until eternity. It was a selfish maneuver by the king.
“This is not turning out the way I planned.” Gwyndolen sulked in defeat. She wanted her daughter with her, but not if it meant misery for her. “Well, if you won’t do anything about this Armond, I will!”
With that, Gwyndolen spun about, her glittering cloak fluttering and spreading sparkling faerie dust throughout the air as she stalked from the palace hall.
Chapter Eleven
Kane stood in front of Fallon’s dwelling, pondering what he would say to Fallon’s father as he lifted his knuckles to rap on the door.
Though on the Bealtuinn eve it was customary for all human visitors who appeared at one’s threshold to be welcomed inside, Kane was not calling to sup with Marlow Moireach. He was not calling to celebrate the season.
He carried with him grave news. That Fallon Moireach—Marlow’s daughter had been snatched by a faerie.
There was also another motive for paying a visit. Kane wanted Fallon returned, not only to the earth, but to him, as well. His heart ached for her, the pain more dreadful than any wound he had ever suffered. The hollowness inside of him caused by her departure felt like death, vacant and abandoned, and the anguish of never holding Fallon again left Kane feeling cold.
“Fallon,” he whispered her name most grievously. She thought he deceived her, though her belief was false. It was The Bryan who was the betraying one. If Kane ever saw Fallon again—when Kane saw her again, somehow he would find a way make her see the truth.
Kane knocked upon the door and then waited. No answer came. He knocked again and then put his ear to the wood and listened. Not a sound could be heard inside. Finally, he opened the door and stepped over the threshold, his eyes immediately falling to the man sitting by the fire lit hearth.
“Marlow Moireach?” Kane addressed the man.
How angry would Fallon’s father be that Kane failed to protect his daughter? Did he even have enough wit in his brain to understand what had happened to Fallon or to aid Kane in retrieving her?
He had little choice in the matter. Not one other in the village had knowledge enough to advise Kane on what to do.
Grabbing a small bench, Kane set it in front of Fallon’s father and sat down. He began explaining the eve’s happenings, save the lovemaking he and Fallon shared, telling him the false wager was for Fallon’s heart instead of her body. Some things were better left unsaid, particularly to one’s sire.
Marlow Moireach sat quietly, unblinking, unmoving, and Kane was hesitant to believe the man even heard a single word he expressed.
But Kane remained. Though the glaze in Marlow’s eyes revealed a witless state, there seemed to be underlying wisdom within. Still, the man failed to speak or respond with any emotion to Kane’s tale, his expression remaining blank.
Hope abandoned Kane and he began rising to leave. “Ye be nothing but a witless fool.”
“S minig a thainig comhairle ghlic a ceann amadain.”
Kane halted. In midstance he stared into Marlow Moireach’s eyes and Marlow stared back. Often has wise counsel come from a fool’s head, was what the man said.
Slowly lowering himself to the chair, Kane curiously waited for Marlow to say more, but he only stared at Kane. After a bit, there was still nothing but silence from the man’s mouth.
Pressing his lips together in disappointment, Kane rose once more. “Jest foolish blabberin’, I can only suppose.”
“An rud a líonas an tsúil líonann sé an croí.” ‘Tis the mark of a wise man that he can listen to fools and learn from them.
Lifting a brow, Kane pondered those words.
And then he understood.
With a nod, he sat down again. Marlow Moireach was speaking in maxims and it was likely that the man expected Kane to interpret.
“Aye, ole man. Ye have me ear.”
Marlow Moireach’s entranced gaze seemed to change. Life filled it.
“An áit a bhfuil do chroí is ann a thabharfas do chosa thú,” he said. What fills the eye fills the heart.
Again Kane nodded. “I caught yer daughter’s eye and me heart is indeed filled.”
“E cruaidh sgarachdainn, cha robh dithis gun dealachadh,” Marlow answered. Though separation be hard, two nev’r met but had ta part.
“Nay.” Kane shook his head. “I can no’ think on it. Nev’r will I accept it. I love yer daughter and I would give me life to have her back.”
“What is meant for ye will no’ pass ye by,” Marlow said.
Taking a deep breath Kane thought about that. “But if Fallon be meant fer me by what means do I find her?”
“Yer feet and yer eyes will bring ye ta where yer heart be.”
“Me feet … me eyes?” Kane furled his brow. “I know no’ what yer meaning be.”
“The moon be wanin’.” Marlow’s drone voice changed, becoming almost eerie in tone. Lifting a single finger he pointed upward, his entire arm quivering as he did so. “‘Tis no’ a good sign.”
Glancing toward the shuttered window, Kane understood exactly what Fa
llon’s father meant by that comment. The dawning would arrive soon, and when it did, the veils to the otherworld would close. Not a soul would be able to pass through them.
At least not until the passing of the growing season, when the harvest would come.
It would be Samhuinn.
For this eve, Kane would soon lose the darkness of the night. He would lose his chance to retrieve Fallon.
Shaking his head, Kane pushed away the thoughts of what might happen to her until the harvest came. Worse over, he was terribly troubled about what might be happening to her at this very moment.
Whatever course he was to take, it must be accomplished before the break of day. “Ye must tell me what ta do, ole man.”
Marlow drew back his shaky finger, pressing it to his lips. His eyes darted about the room and Kane searched with him, seeing nothing odd.
“A faerie comes ta speak,” Marlow returned with a low, animated whisper.
“What faerie?” Kane stood with alarm.
Spinning about, he hunted for the creature but he saw none. “Talk ta me, ole man.
Of what faerie do ye refer?”
The Bryan? Perhaps Fallon found a way to return? Who … could it be?
Silence followed Kane’s question and he turned back to Marlow.
The man’s head dropped and he appeared to be asleep.
No matter. Kane knew exactly what it was he needed to do. Heading for the door, Kane halted and looked over his shoulder. “I be grateful to ye fer yer help, Marlow Moireach.”
He left the dwelling with full understanding of what he had to do. Kane was also keenly aware that the undertaking was a risk to both his life and his mind.
But Kane cared not.
Without Fallon neither held value to him. He had to find her.
Through half-closed lids, Marlow Moireach waited until he was sure the warrior, Kane Siosal would not return. He lifted his head and his gaze shifted to the beautiful lavender eyes that fixed upon him.
A smile crested his face, as he warmly looked into them. “Why did ye abandon me?”
“I couldn’t stand it any more—watching you slip from wisdom to a state of mindless nothingness. It was too painful.”
“‘Twas bliss for me.” Marlow’s expression turned moony.
“It’s the same reason I left Fallon in your care. Armond was loath to have an unclaimed human blood in our midst … such prejudice.” The queen fae knelt in front of Marlow. “For me it was more than that. I was afraid her human mind would be taken by a faerie’s eye and I would be unable to protect her.”
Marlow lifted a hand to cup her cheek. “Tis been so long, Gwyndolen.”
“There’s a purpose for my presence here.” Gwyndolen nuzzled her cheek against Marlow’s hand.
“Our daughter.” Marlow’s expression went somber. “How she be?”
“Sorrowful … in despair.”
“Aye. So be that warrior.”
“They were betrayed, and it’s my fault.” The queen set her cheek upon Marlow’s lap. “I have come to seek him.”
Marlow’s face wrenched with angst. “Then ye have no’ come ta take me back?”
Tipping her head, Gwyndolen looked upon Marlow with sadness. “It can never be. I returned you home with at least some of your mind intact and I will not steal the rest.”
Marlow smiled at her. “‘Twas a small price ta pay ta be with ye.”
Gwynolen stood. “I must leave you for now Marlow. There’s a dark faerie who must meet his fate.”
Chapter Twelve
Kane set himself beneath the whitethorn tree near the path where he and Fallon first found passion. After speaking with her father and leaving the dwelling, Kane wandered through the forests, and just as Marlow foretold, it was where his feet carried him.
Giving praise to the new season and the spirits, he fell into deep prayer beseeching assistance for the grave task he was about to undertake.
Before long he felt the presence of the ancient one and his heart was gladdened. And though Kane was unable to see her, the ancient one’s essence stemmed through his head as well as his thoughts.
I have not abandoned you, warrior.
“Truly I be grateful ye have come.”
Your fate is my eyes and I will tell you that the outcome is not good.
“I beg of ye, tell me what ta do.”
Kane inhaled as the goddess swept through his body and mind, explaining what was about to befall him and how he could change the course of his future. When she was through, the goddess withdrew her spirit from within Kane, but continued to remain in the air around him, waiting for his reply.
Searching the dark forests, Kane collected his thoughts and considered what the ancient one revealed to him. His future did indeed look bleak.
Finally he spoke. “I loathe deception, goddess.”
In this case the end will justify the means.
“Aye, though I do no’ favor this act of trickery ye suggest.”
You are a principled man, and I respect you for that. But sometimes, warrior, it becomes necessary to fight fire with fire.
“I do have understandin’ of this, goddess. But I shall first attempt ta face this task in a more honorable way, if ye grant me.”
The choice is yours, if you wish.
“I bid ye me humble thanks.”
Your gratitude is always appreciated. And now I will depart. Farewell for now, warrior. I will see you soon.
Kane felt the ancient one’s essence diffuse away until he was alone. But he was not abandoned. She gave her blessing for him to do the thing he considered. And now it was time to act upon it.
Always his practice, Kane gave praise to the sacred whitethorn tree before breaking off a few branches. He began weaving, fashioning a new wreath and thinking about Marlow’s words.
What fills the eye fills the heart.
And now he would use his eyes to find Fallon.
A fae was in his midst and Kane wished to be lured away.
He hoped it was not The Bryan returning, though Kane was riled with the need to seek revenge on the detestable creature. And he doubted it was Fallon. He also hoped whoever the faerie might be was female, rather than a male with no interest in him, or worse yet, one who might be. Either way, Kane was unsure of what fate held for his body or his mind, should he catch the eyes of a faerie. But he would worry about it at a later time, for he intended to do all in his power to be taken to the otherworld.
It was the only way he could find his heart—find Fallon.
Kane examined his work and then held the wreath to his face. Peering through the rounded opening he framed the glimmering moon, which had moved lower in the sky.
Eve time was fading. The morn would come soon.
Closing his eyes, Kane summoned the inner depths of his mind commanding it to unwind. His head became heavy like honey, and the ruminative power poured through him.
“Faerie of the season, appear ta me,” he beckoned. “I wish ta pass from this mortal world and find pleasure across the shrouds.”
Silence followed. A wolf howled as Kane repeated his summon.
Again, there was more silence.
Kane waited, and before long the sound of chimes came to his ears.
“Speak,” a voice said.
Kane opened his eyes.
A fog filled the whitethorn ring that failed to spread beyond its boundaries. Kane held his breath and his heartbeat quickened as a figure—no, two figures came through the haze—a white horse, with a woman perched atop it.
A glimmering aura surrounded her. Brilliant and wraithlike, it was almost painful to the sight. Her moonlit hair glimmered with a lavender sheen blending and weaving amid raven tresses that swept around her glorious face. She was intensely, inhumanly beautiful, Kane’s eyes froze upon her. He could not tear his gaze away. All he saw within the depths of the whitethorn wreath—within his thinking—was Fallon Moireach and his heart was filled with joy. “Fallon, ye have returned.”
“No, I’m not her,” she answered in reply, the sound of her voice so euphoniously enchanting that Kane’s mind whirled with longing to hear more it.
“Why do ye no’ look at me?” Kane frowned that Fallon’s eyes were averted away. Worry seeped in. Is she still distrustin’ of me?
“I won’t capture your gaze until you tell me why you’ve summoned me, warrior.” Gwyndolen refused to bring him to her mists unless she was convinced his emotions for Fallon were true.
“Ye are me love.” Kane stood and began approaching her.
“Halt!” she yelled.
Kane stopped immediately and closed his eyes in grief. Fallon was still angry with him. She continued to believe he betrayed her.
“If I steal your gaze, warrior, you might forget your woman.”
“I will never forget ye, Fallon.”
Gwyndolen smiled at his mistaking her identity.
It meant his heart was likely true, for when mortals spy the faerie, memories of all others are swept from their minds, with the exception of an honest love.
But this man thought she was his love, an understandable mistake. She and Fallon were identical in appearance, though Gwyndolen was pure fae and thus emanated a more ethereal presence. And one more alluring at that.
“See me for who I am, Kane Siosal. I am not the one you desire.”
Kane felt a rush within his skull that caused his head to feel light. It dispersed almost immediately and awareness took hold.
No longer could he see Fallon’s features, for a bluish glow surrounded and consumed her, revealing only an indistinct form. It was as if he viewed her through an orb filled with wavering, sparkling water. This could not possibly be Fallon. The woman before him had to be pure fae to have such a brilliant color wrapping around her. Kane lowered the whitethorn wreath and looked at her directly, though she still refused to gaze upon him. “Who ye be, faerie?”
And how would he convince her to snatch him away.
“A fae of no import,” Gwyndolen answered. “I’m just seeking to amuse myself this eve.”
Kane shook with wariness, swallowing hard. The faerie had yet to covet his sight, yet for a moment she snared his mind, forcing him to believe he was seeing Fallon. Her power to consume his human mind with such ease was disturbing. And he also worried that if she was to the otherworld, would she do so again—deceive him into believing he was with Fallon?
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