“Goblin steel,” Darter put in, looking worried. “It’s not like regular steel. The wounds fester, if not carefully treated —”
“Aye, that’s true,” Maggie said, nodding. “Who’s this little blighter, then?”
“I’m Darter,” the goblin stammered. “Previously of Grimtooth’s band, now… well, I’m not sure.”
“Darter,” Maggie said thoughtfully. “Darter Hob, I think.”
Nancy had no idea what that meant — but the way the goblin was staring at Maggie, she had a suspicion it meant something rather serious.
“Do you mean it?” Darter whispered, his eyes seeming to take up his whole face they’d widened so much.
“Of course I mean it. You turned against Grimtooth and saved these good people’s lives. I’d say that puts you squarely in our Court, don’t you?”
“I’d agree,” Donal said, smiling.
Nancy looked back and forth between them, not understanding — but pleased that Darter seemed to be happy. The little creature hurled himself at Maggie, giving her an enormous, grateful hug that she returned with a cackle.
“You can stay here with me, Darter Hob,” she told him. “It’ll be nice not to be the only landbound Fae for miles around.”
Late in the afternoon, they all headed home, Maggie and Darter waving to them from the porch as they went. Nancy was almost reluctant to go — she wanted to know exactly how Kaitlyn was going to react to Maggie’s new roommate. The little hobgoblin looked simply delighted to be there — his furry ears were twitching happily in the late afternoon sunlight as they waved goodbye, riding back up to the castle. Malcolm was quiet — she peered up at him, a little worried by his silence.
“Are you alright? Are your wounds troubling you?”
“A little,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “But — it’s not that.” The others were riding on ahead, and they were toward the back of the group, their horses lagging lazily in the pleasant weather. “When we were down there… that door was your last chance at going home.”
Nancy stared up at him. He was more perceptive than she’d thought. “Yeah. It was.”
“You thought about it? Going through?”
“For a second, yeah.” She had to be honest with him. She owed him that much. “But then I thought about the life I have here… the people I’ve met, the things I’ve done. You,” she added, looking at him fiercely. “And I knew that I wouldn’t go back. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want my old life back. I want to be here with you, Malcolm. I’m going to miss my dad, and my home, and my friends… and God, I’m going to miss diving,” she added with a laugh, “but all of it… Malcolm, all of it’s worth it for a second chance at life with you by my side.”
He stared back at her, and for a moment she was worried she’d said too much, spoken too freely. Would he be intimidated, that she was already thinking in those terms? After all, they’d really only known each other for a little more than a month or so… surely it was a bit excessive to be talking about spending their lives together. But then a smile broke out across his face, more beautiful than the sun breaking out from behind a cloud bank, and she knew that all her fears were unfounded. He felt the same about her as she felt about him.
She was exactly where she should be.
Chapter 60
That night, Donal made the announcement — at a meeting of worried villagers and exhausted soldiers — that the goblin threat had been defeated. The villagers had hardly been able to believe their ears — most of them had simply stared at Donal, nonplussed, wanting to know how and why he was so sure that the menace had been defeated. He explained in detail about what had happened, but Nancy could see even as she watched that most of the villagers were making up their minds not to believe him, to ascribe the thefts — and the deaths — to demons or witchcraft and to move on with their lives.
She looked up at Malcolm with frustration and anger in her eyes, and he just smiled down at her. He’d spent the afternoon asleep at her instruction, waiting on his wounds to mend, and was looking better now, though he was still badly injured from the battle in the Loch. All of that was already beginning to seem like a bad dream… but for the terrific wounds on the body of the man she was rapidly falling for.
“It’s uncomfortable for them, to know that there is so much darkness in the word that they can neither understand nor control,” Malcolm said simply, in a low voice that wouldn’t carry to any of the villagers. “Let them have their ignorance. Let them choose it. We know the truth — and we’ll keep them safe from it, too.”
She smiled, at that. He was right, of course. It was frustrating, not to be properly recognized or thanked for all their hard work… but that wasn’t why they did it, after all. They did it to keep people safe. And she was proud to include herself among that ‘they’.
That night, she dreamed again. This dream wasn’t unpleasant, or disturbing, like so many of her dreams had been in the weeks following her arrival at the castle… this one was gentle and beautiful, and seemed to leave her feeling more refreshed, not less. In it, a number of tall, elegant, glowing figures — figures she recognized, dimly, from a long time ago — surrounded her, reaching up to brush her face with their long, delicate fingertips. Though they spoke in a beautiful and completely unfamiliar language, somehow, she understood that they were proud of her, and grateful for what she had done. Then, the dream shifted and blurred, somehow, and she found herself in a room that it took her a moment to recognize. It was the living room in the house her father used to share with her mother and her — she winced to see him there, alone, sitting on the old sofa with the television casting flickering light over his face. She wanted to go to him, to touch his face — but when she called to him and he didn’t respond, she realized he could neither see nor hear her.
Was this what was happening to her father, without her, she wondered, frowning? There were the framed pictures of her on the wall — there were her old swimming and diving trophies, she realized with a lump in her throat… and there, sitting on a side table, was an unfamiliar old book. It looked ancient, deeply weathered by time, but it was sitting open, and she could see that while the pages, too, were old, they were well-preserved. There was a careful, looping script on them that was so familiar that for a moment she thought it was her father’s… but no. It wasn’t. It was hers.
A sound distracted her from reading any of the words written — and she turned around to see a woman emerging from the kitchen. A graceful woman in maybe her mid-fifties — she reminded Nancy a little of Maeve. She had some of the woman’s sparkle, a pair of light blue eyes that lit up the room, and she padded over to join her father on the sofa as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Nancy stared at them both, surprised and thrilled — her father had never expressed any kind of interest in dating! Who was this woman? But then she looked more closely at the photos on the wall and realized with a shock that the woman was in some of them — standing with her father, laughing, kissing him on the cheek. In one, she wore a long white dress, and Nancy stared, baffled. How could that be the case?
Then she looked at the television again. The news was on, and her eyes flew to the date. It was four years after the date she’d gone diving in the quarry… it was four years, then, since she’d disappeared. She stared at her father, at the woman at his side, at the old book, sitting in pride of place on the side table. And just for a moment, as the dream dissolved around her, she could have sworn her father looked straight at her… and smiled.
When she sat up in bed, Malcolm breathing steadily at her side, she shook her head a few times to clear it. Just a dream… just a dream, but it had been so deeply real, so resonant. That had been her father’s face, as clear as day, that had been his living room… but she couldn’t stop thinking about the book that had almost seemed to glow on that side table. And when she turned to grab the glass of water, she kept on the side table, she jumped in shock. There lay a book just like the one her father had had… but this one was fresh
and new, with a bound cover and a thick sheaf of pages. She lifted it in her hands, flipping through it — but this wasn’t the same book. All the pages were blank.
She realized what had happened as Malcolm stirred in his sleep, and she covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from waking him up with the sounds of her grateful sobs. Tears ran down her cheeks. This was the same book that her father’d had… but it hadn’t been written in yet. This was the gift of the Sidhe to her — a second chance at life, and a book to write about it to her father. Her father, who wasn’t miserable and alone, but sharing his life with another woman. Her father, who knew she was safe and well… because she’d written to him. Every day of her life, she decided, staring down at the book in her hand. She’d write a page every day. She’d put more pages in if she had to. He would know absolutely everything about her life here… about what she’d done, who she’d met, where she was going. She couldn’t be there for him, but she could give him this last gift.
Beaming, she settled back into the bed, falling into a dreamless sleep. Her father had been the last thing binding her to her own time. And when she woke up in the morning, she knew that she was free, now, to live here completely.
The time seemed to fly by. She and Malcolm spent as much time together as they wished — Donal made despairing comments about having lost his tanist, so infatuated were they with one another. But she could tell the Laird didn’t mind one bit. They went on long rides together, raced their horses down the road, visited with Maggie and Darter — who was settling in very well. He and Kaitlyn were fast friends, and spent late afternoons wandering the moors together, competing over who could find Maggie the most useful herbs.
The harvest was a great success, too, now that the threat of theft was well and truly dealt with. Nancy and Malcolm rode into the village to check everything was going well and found the whole place alive with activity. Father Caleb was there, and they checked in with him, riding up to his church to have a conversation about what had happened.
“I’m so glad,” he said to them both, “that my prayers were answered.”
“And what do you think caused all the problems?” Nancy enquired sweetly, raising an eyebrow.
Malcolm put a warning hand on her knee — they’d had a long conversation on the way over here about the importance of keeping the Father on side. After all, he had the loyalty of the villagers, as well as owing a great debt to the men and women of the Sept… that was a useful thing to keep alive.
“That’s for the Lord to know,” Father Caleb said piously, but he shot them a look. “And, of course, the men and women who do his noble work.”
That is about as good as it’s going to get, Nancy thought to herself with a sigh — the closest Father Caleb, craven as he was, was willing to get to an honest thank-you.
“Still, it’s a lot better than the alternative,” Malcolm explained as they wandered down the hill from the church. “The alternative would be prosecuting you as a witch, for no godly creature ought to be able to survive beneath the surface of the water that way.”
“What are they going to do, drown me?” Nancy demanded, laughing.
They stopped in to visit the blacksmith, John, too, who was pleased to see them — and delighted to hear that they’d made their relationship somewhat more official. And something good had come of all the chaos — not only did the village now have an excellent stockpile of iron crosses in the event that another Fae monstrosity came bursting through, John had a new apprentice to help him at the forge — a lad who’d shown great promise during the crisis.
When the harvest was brought in, there was a great celebration in the village that, to Nancy’s surprise, all the people of the Sept went to. The autumn air was chilly, but there was a huge crackling bonfire, and all kinds of delicious things to eat… as well as a band playing lively tunes to dance to all night. Anna, by this stage, was seven months into her pregnancy, but Donal still whirled her around the town square a few times, both of them laughing as they danced.
Nancy loitered for a while, feeling a little embarrassed… she’d tried to dance a few times, but she wasn’t much good at it, and she felt like she was holding Malcolm back. He came to her eventually, the stars shining overhead, and took a seat beside her, the warmth of his body reassuring in the autumn air.
“Not much of a dancer, I’m afraid,” she admitted. The girls from the kitchens were dancing up a storm, their feet flying as they spun around the bonfire — she could see Kaitlyn, too, doing her absolute best to keep up. Maggie and Darter were the only two not present that she could tell… Malcolm had made it clear that Maggie didn’t go in for big celebrations, especially if they involved leaving the warmth and comfort of her little cottage.
“You’ve a thousand other talents to make up for it,” Malcolm murmured fondly in her ear, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. It felt so good to be open about their relationship, finally — everyone in the village and the castle knew they belonged to one another, and though Nancy had worried about jealousy from some of Malcolm’s former lovers, so far everyone had been nothing but pleased for them.
“Oh, yeah. Like scuba diving.” She sighed. That was the one dark spot on an otherwise rather bright little life — she missed the water something fierce. Oh, she still went swimming in her drysuit occasionally, but it just wasn’t the same. She could dive for a little while, of course, and it was enjoyable enough… but the batteries in her torches had both died, and even holding her breath she couldn’t get anywhere near as far down as she truly wanted to. The Monster seemed to sense her sadness — Nessie would come around whenever she was swimming, and even attempted to play with her in the water. She suspected that the creature wouldn’t mind letting her ride on her back, if she tried… but she hadn’t quite been brave enough yet. Someday, perhaps. Someday she’d be brave enough.
“I have something of a Harvest present for you, speaking of scuba diving,” Malcolm said, with the innocent tone he tended to put on when he was keeping something big secret. She peered up at him, nonplussed by this idea.
“Harvest present? I didn’t know there were harvest presents! Malcolm, I didn’t get you one!”
“You didn’t have to. I just wanted an excuse.” His eyes were twinkling. “Remember a long time ago, when I mentioned having heard tell of a man who used pig innards to create air bladders to breathe through underwater?”
Nancy stared at him, holding her breath. “Yes?”
“Well, remember last week when I said I was going to check on the fishermen down the coast and I wouldn’t let you come with me and you got angry with me —”
“Yes! Malcolm, what did you do?”
“Well… I prevailed upon him to make two. It’s a little cold, I know, but… what do you say you and I go swimming tomorrow morning?”
Malcolm smiled down at her, and in that moment, she’d never loved anyone as much as she loved him. She threw her arms around him, and he lifted her to her feet, laughing. They spent the rest of the night dancing, Nancy not caring about how clumsy she was, just glowing with warmth and happiness about where she was, what she’d done, and the man she had been lucky enough to find.
* * *
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About Rebecca Preston
Rebecca lives in New York City with her dog. She loves sweet love stories with great characters. She loves traveling the world and experiencing new cities and cultures. Jane Austen is her favorite author.
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