by Mia Pride
“Och, well, if you will not force her, that is your decision. But you had better find a real way to bed her then, and you have three days to do it. Otherwise, Brocc may very well walk into your home and steal her away. And neither of us want that, do we?”
Collin sighed and nodded, feeling like the worst sort of man as he gulped down every last drop of bitter ale and slammed his mug on the table as his aching conscience started to make him feel physically ill.
Chapter 12
As Liam entered the hall, he was instantly greeted with rounds of excited villagers happy to see their king back, even if only for a few days. He greeted them warmly with lots of forearm clasps and back slaps, grinned and accepted sips of ale from proffered mugs.
“What brings ye back to town, King Liam? Ye have not already found your wife’s sister, have ye?” one man drunkenly inquired as he bumped against the rowdy crowd gathering around.
“Nay, we visited another tuath nearby and their king said he knew the druid we seek, and that he was on his way here!” Liam was trying to shout over the loud amicable voices. “Has anyone seen the druid named Deaglan?” He looked around and a few heads shook, but one man was smiling and nodding emphatically at Liam.
Liam walked over to the man and, through the smoky atmosphere, he could make out the old wrinkly face of the tuath’s leather worker. Clapping him on the back, Liam smiled and asked, “You have seen him then, Mac Guire?” Mac Guire only nodded and smiled, showing his missing teeth as he pointed to the back of the room with his gnarled finger. Liam remembered that Mac Guire was never a talkative fellow. In fact, he could not recall ever having heard the man speak. Thanking him for his guidance, Liam nodded while slowly making his way through the stifling room, stopping every few steps to answer questions, clasp more forearms and laugh at the friendly barbs being shouted into the room.
The smell of ale and sweat mingling in the air made Liam crinkle his nose. He would adjust to the smells and overpowering smoke from the tallow candles in a moment, but for now, his senses were all on high as the loud voices rang in his ears and shoulders bumped into him from every direction. He had his eyes fixed on the back corner, his height working in his favor as he looked over the heads of the others, seeing Deaglan laughing and talking animatedly with two other men at his table. Just as Liam started in that direction, he felt an arm slide around his waist softly and he stiffened, but continued forward another step, his progress slowed by the wall of drunken men.
Now he felt a hand grab his wrist, and he turned around quickly to find the source. Looking down at his wrist, he saw small pale fingers wrapped around him and his eyes trailed up the slim arm to a slender neck and then landed on the big tear-filled eyes of Fiona O’Beirne. Och! By the horns of Cernunnos! Gwynn would not be pleased. He flinched away from her touch.
Her grip tightened on his wrist, where his pulse raced through her fingers and her delicate face crumbled as tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. Liam closed his eyes as he sighed loudly, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. When he looked at Fiona again, he tried to steal his nerves against the surge of guilt he felt, but the look on her face left him feeling thoroughly ashamed...of what, he was not certain.
“Fiona…I, uh,” he shook his head and looked down at her. Her bouncy black curls framed her slim face as she shook her head and turned away, another sad tear running down her cheek and over her pointy chin.
“Liam.” She swallowed hard, breathed deeply and continued, “Can we talk? Please?”
Every fiber of his being wanted to run in the other direction, away from the woman who had warmed his bed for two years while he wallowed in self-pity over his loss of Gwynneth to Baine. Looking at Fiona’s tormented features, he realized he meant more to her than she ever had to him. He felt hopeless at the sight of her brown eyes brimming with tears.
“Fiona…you should not be in a place like this, especially in your condition.” He looked down and saw her swollen belly. She was, indeed, a few moons further along than Gwynn, if the size of her bump was any indication. Her once flat, tight belly was now obviously bulging with child, a child she claimed to be his. He could not deny the timing was correct. He had lain with her frequently, the last time just the day before Gwynneth went missing almost six moons ago.
Once he left to find Gwynn, his whole life came together exactly how he had always hoped. He rescued Gwynn and married her immediately upon his return to the tuath. He had known Fiona would be angry, but she was a bright and lovely woman with many admirers. Liam was convinced she would move on and find happiness elsewhere. Apparently, he had underestimated how much Fiona cared for him. The development of the child only exacerbated the situation further, though he felt horrible for feeling that way. The babe was no fault of hers.
Fiona was no meek and innocent woman. She was capable of cruelty, mischief, and plotting. He did not trust Fiona enough to allow Gwynneth around her alone, which was one of his main motivations for permitting his breeding wife to travel with him all these days. The anxiety of what Fiona could accomplish without Liam’s presence was too strong to be overlooked. But now, looking down at Fiona’s sorrowful features, a new wave of pity hit him in the gut and he was compelled to comfort her.
“I was not in here, Liam. I saw you come home earlier, with h-her,” a sob hiccupped from her throat as she dabbed her eyes with her fingers. “I needed to talk to you, so I followed you in here. Please, speak to me.”
Overcome by remorse, Liam wrapped his arms around Fiona’s petite frame and gave her a comforting squeeze while making shushing sounds. He pulled away and put his hands on her small shoulders, looking down at her. She seemed so small and helpless, but Liam had to remind himself that she was much more capable than she looked. “I don’t have much time tonight, Fiona. I came here to meet with someone and tis an urgent matter. And I promised Gwynn I would arrive back shortly.”
Just mentioning his wife’s name made Fiona flinch. Her reaction only raised his ire, reminding him of Fiona’s often cruel treatment of his wife. “I don’t know what there is to talk about Fiona,” he tried to say in as sensitive a voice as he could muster. “I am married to Gwynneth now.”
“S-so, that is it? What about me? And your babe? One night you are in my bed, and the next, you disappear for an entire cycle of the moon, arriving back with her in your arms! And suddenly, tis like I never existed or the last two years never happened!” He could see her chest rising and falling with repressed emotion and he grumbled in frustration under his breath.
“Fiona. You knew how I felt about Gwynn. As for you and me, there is nay more to be said. But as for the child, if it is mine, of course, I will help care for it.”
“What do you mean ‘if’? Are you accusing me of passing a child on to you that is not your own?” Her slim black brows shot up high on her forehead. He had known Fiona long enough to know she played innocent well, and he was not going to fall into that trap.
“I am saying I do not believe for one moment you only lay with me during our time together. We never spoke of love, the future, or commitments. I believe you hope the child is mine, as I know it very well may be, but it also may not be. And we shall see when the child is born and discuss it then. For now, I have a wife at home I know for certain is carrying my child. And I cannot jeopardize that and be seen speaking with you in shadowed corners.”
Her face switched from unfaltering innocence to instant scorn. “Well! I am glad to see how very little you think of me, Liam. All I am asking is for a private audience with you to discuss what we shall do if the child is yours. It is yours, Liam!” Her voice increased in pitch and he could see a new round of tears flooding her eyes. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Deaglan standing up, preparing to retire for the night. In a panic, Liam turned back to Fiona’s determined gaze and cursed under his breath.
“Och! By the gods, aye.” He agreed hastily, “But not tonight. I have business that cannot wait! Meet me on the morrow, at our usual spot, at midday.”
Her eyes flickered with victory as a seductive smirk set on her lips. “Watch yourself, Fiona. Our meeting is for the child’s sake only. I am loyal to my wife and nothing will change that.”
“I understand, Liam, mo chroí. I will see you on the morrow.” She flipped her black bouncy curls over her shoulder as she sauntered away, clearly expecting Liam would follow her seductive hips with his gaze, but he had already turned away.
Cursing to himself, he ran his fingers once more through his hair and hoped he had not allowed himself to be manipulated into one of her schemes. Her reasoning was sound, however. If he was the father, and he likely was, they must sit and discuss the arrangements. Gwynneth would not like this one bit. He debated whether to tell her, or spare her the details, but before he could decide, Deaglan was half way across the room.
“Deaglan!” he shouted as he raised his arms above the crowd, waving them to grab the druid’s attention. Hearing his name, Deaglan looked around and smiled instantly as he saw Liam’s familiar face.
Pushing through the crowd, Deaglan’s small frame disappeared in the cluster of cramped bodies. Only his balding gray head bobbed intermittently into view until he finally arrived by Liam’s side. “Liam! I was hoping to see you here on my visit! I heard you had left town.”
“Aye, and as it turns out, you are the very man I was meant to seek all along!” A knowing smile stretched across Deaglan’s face as his blue eyes twinkled with understanding. Deaglan was a smaller man, but he had a powerful presence and a friendly disposition that Liam had grown to respect over the years. “Why do I get the feeling that you know exactly what I seek?”
Deaglan’s face lit up with laughter as he nodded vigorously, “Because, tis that very knowledge you seek that I came here to give! Everything is happening as it should, Liam. Congratulations on your marriage to Gwynneth! And the babe! The news has traveled far and wide. Two of the three Sisters of Danu have been reunited, married to their kings, and it is time for you to seek out the third, aye?”
“Aye…for better or for worse,” Liam mumbled wryly with a grunt of laughter. “The two sisters together are a handful as it is! I shudder to think what chaos the third sister will bring!”
Both men laughed and agreed that the group would meet at Liam and Gwynneth’s home and discuss the details in the morn. Liam offered Deaglan a place in his home, but Deaglan kindly declined, having already arranged to stay with a relative. With a clasp of forearms, both men exited the hall and went their separate ways.
Liam walked slowly back to his home to meet Gwynneth. He could feel the knot of tension building within his gut. He knew that Gwynneth was under enough stress and the news of his meeting with Fiona would send her over the edge. Should he tell her and hope for her cooperation? Or should he meet with Fiona first and tell Gwynneth afterward?
He had learned the hard way in their past that his innocent falsehoods and omissions to save her feelings could creep up to bite him in the arse. But Fiona was a very touchy subject that only brought out hostility in Gwynneth, and he was not certain if he could handle that right now.
Gwynneth already gave him enough trouble over Fiona. She may never forgive him his transgressions, though he was completely innocent of all wrongdoing. “What a mess,” Liam grumbled with a sigh as he scuffed his leather boots in the gravel the whole way home.
“We are so glad to have found you, Deaglan. And with far less traveling than we had anticipated!”
Deaglan laughed at Gwynneth’s excitement and looked around the table at the rest of his audience. It seemed only Gwynneth had truly rested the night before, as Ceara and Garreth still looked half asleep and Liam had red-rimmed eyes and disheveled hair, as if he had gotten no sleep at all.
Their servant, Katriona, had rushed back to the house upon their arrival, glad to have hungry bellies to fill once again. She happily prepared a deliciously creamy porridge sweetened with apples and strawberries, fresh crunchy bread, and eggs from the hens at the farm. She hummed happily while stirring the cauldron and plating the food, serving it to the guests.
Katriona was a plump woman with a kind round face, sparkling green eyes, and dark black hair that she tied in a tidy bun in the back of her head. Katriona had been King Doran’s, Gwynneth’s father, servant before becoming Liam’s. Gwynneth had grown up with the warm presence and delicious foods Katriona had supplied to their home. As Katriona wiped her hands on a clean linen cloth, she stood back and watched the warm smiles as her food was consumed. With a nod of approval, she shuffled away to give the king and his guests room to eat and talk.
Clearing this throat, Deaglan smiled and folded his fingers together. “It must have been an exhausting journey.” He smirked at the tired faces around the table. “I am interested in learning what King Ewan already inform you of.”
Eagerly, they all took turns contributing to the story, explaining that Ewan remembered Deaglan carrying the brown haired, green-eyed Sister of Danu twenty summers ago, but had not known where she had been delivered. He listened intently with a nostalgic smile on his face as he ran his thoughtful fingers through his short gray beard.
“Aye, I will never forget that Beltane. I had been summoned to the mound that night by a shapeshifter.”
“A shapeshifter?” Garreth’s wary eyes burst open with interest.
“Aye, a faery living among the humans. They are everywhere. I am certain you know a few. They are the link between the humans and the faeries, and oft-times quite amicable. They love being in the human world and find us to be quite intriguing creatures. I suppose the same way a human finds a faery intriguing.”
He laughed at their contemplative faces and continued. “As I was saying, a shapeshifter came to me and explained that the legend had come to fruition with the birth of the Sisters of Danu. One was to stay with their birth father, one had already been taken away to her new tuath, but one remained and required relocation. The faeries had the babe at their mound, and I was tasked with meeting them and relocating her.
“Och, but she was a beauty! Bright green eyes, almost unnaturally so, and very aware of her world. She had soft chestnut hair and a calm presence. The faeries from that mound are not kind to humans, not even a druid sent to complete an important quest. You see, they are much older than most faeries. Many of them remember a time when their descendants, the Tuatha de Danann, were a strong, god-like people that ruled all Ériu. Once defeated by the Milesians, they were forced underground. I am afraid that their disdain for the humans residing above earth is quite strong and irreparable. Tis best to find mounds of faeries who are younger, mayhap only a thousand summers old.”
Liam guffawed and almost spit out his ale. “A thousand summers? Tis young for a faery?”
“Och, aye. While they reside in their own world they age quite slowly, though they do not live forever as some humans believe. If they live in the human world, they age as humans do. But a faery’s age is best determined by its size. The older they get, the smaller they become. Tis why the smallest of them seem to be to most ornery. They do not like us,” Deaglan stressed as he lifted a finger.
“They made my task of relocating your sister quite complicated, only giving me the name of the tuath in which to take her. Nothing else. I had nay idea where I was going, but in the end, I found my destination and delivered her safely to her new mother. She was a woman with the sight, as was requested by the gods, but she was a widowed woman with nay children of her own.”
Ceara and Gwynneth looked at each with raised brows. The woman who had raised their other sister sounded exactly like Ceara’s mother, Abigael, a widowed seer with no children of her own. It was as if every person they had ever known was a part of the legend in some way. “So, you do know where she is then?” Ceara was ready to jump over the table with anticipation.
“Aye, in fact, I have visited quite often since that day. I have watched her grow and she is a breathtakingly beautiful lass, just like you both, naturally. Intelligent, kind, but head strong at times.” Liam gru
nted at that last description and folded his arms across his chest as his wife kicked him under the table.
“She is quiet and reserved among the village, never made many companions. Her mother became ill several summers ago and sent her away to a foster family, until her illness became desperate. At the news of her mother’s declining health, your sister came back home and dedicated her entire life to trying to nurse her mother back to health. I am unsure of her condition now; I have not been back in many moons.”
“Is their sister wed to the king of the tuath?” Garreth asked as he leaned over with interest.
“Wed? Och nay, she remains unwed, living with her mother last I heard.”
Gwynneth crinkled her nose as she thought of her sister living alone with an ailing mother and no husband or children. She had hoped her sister had lived an easier life than she had.
“Well, what is her name, then? I must know!” Ceara was having a hard time containing herself as she squirmed on her cushion and Gwynneth smirked at her sister from the side of her mouth. Ceara had certainly led an easier life and her temperament was a testament to that. While Gwynneth knew herself to be skeptical and often times over-analytical, Ceara wore a ready smile at most times and always seemed to light up the room. She wanted to envy Ceara for her easy smiles and light-hearted mannerisms, but she only felt comfort knowing at least one of them had led a better life. Besides, she had Liam now, and their unborn child. Her path had not been an easy one, but it had not led her astray.
“Och, Aye! Her name is Una.”
“Una…” the group said together, trying her name out on their tongues.
“Tis a perfect name!” Gwynneth said, clapping her hands. Her mood lifted instantly. Having a name to go with her face and learning of her circumstances made Una more real. “If she is not yet wed, is there a king by the name of Mac Greine at her tuath?” If there was not a king by his name, the whole concept of the three sisters marrying the three kings descended from the original Tuath de Danann would be false and could complicate matters.