Veins of Magic

by Emma Hamm

  “Yes.”

  She had missed this, Sorcha realized. Eating with him, talking to him. The mundane things that meant so much.

  He saw the change in her eyes. The softness that seeped through from her soul into her eyes. Eamonn reached out and took her hand, his thumb smoothing over her knuckles. “I missed you, too.”

  Warmth sparkled through her veins like falling stars. She sighed and squeezed his fingers, words impossible to find.

  Oona bustled towards them and slumped down onto a bench with a huffed sigh. “My goodness! I didn’t think it was possible for faeries to drink so much!”

  “They’re dwarves, Oona," Eamonn said with a chuckle.

  “And they need to worry about their addiction!”

  “They deserve to have some revelry after all the fighting.”

  “That they do.” Oona pulled her skirts up and swung her legs underneath the table. There were so many layers of skirts, Sorcha couldn’t decipher where they stopped and the faerie started. “Are we to be staying here then?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Eamonn said. He shoveled more food into his mouth and gave Sorcha a look that suggested she continue the conversation without him.

  “It needs a little bit of love,” she rushed to fill in. “But I think it has the possibility of being a home for us all.”

  “The dwarves included?”

  “Of course,” Sorcha moved the food on her plate around in a circle. “I think they’ll be useful in the coming months. I cannot imagine sending them away.”

  “Sending them home, you mean.”

  “I’d rather call their families here.” The idea had seemed impossible as it left her lips, but Sorcha saw the merit of it. Bringing women and children here would only make it more of a home.

  There would be maids to help with the cleaning, children to help with the farming. Eamonn looked up at her, a question in his eyes.

  “Families?” Oona asked.

  “Yes. Spread the word that the dwarves are welcome to bring their people here. The intent of this castle was to create a stronghold for those who stand against Fionn. That means making it a haven for all, not just soldiers.”

  “Can we support that many people?” Eamonn asked.

  Cian lumbered over, his bulk pushing aside a few dwarves who had stood. “That we can. The gardens are wild after so many years untended, but they’re still producing enough to feed many. We’ve got quite a few hunters here, and even more who’d like to learn.”

  “And bedding?” Sorcha leaned forward, excitement rushing her words. “We have to put them somewhere. I know the castle needs a lot of work, but what about the surrounding buildings?”

  “I can send a few people out to check on them tomorrow,” Oona said. “There’s a few women interested in cleaning the place up. The outbuildings are in better shape than the castle.”

  “Then this is possible?” Eamonn glanced at the three of them. “Are we prepared to add another potential hundred mouths to feed?”

  “Hundred?” Sorcha laughed. “Eamonn, your army is easily over two hundred men and women. Their families are likely an additional three people, if not more than that. We’re considering many more than a hundred people.”

  His stunned expression made her grin. Sorcha reached out, pressed a palm against his cheek, and chuckled. “When you started this journey, you knew you would become a king.”

  “I did not think that would include so many people.”

  “You’re planning to rule all of Seelie. Starting with a small empire is not a bad thing.”

  “Empire,” he repeated and shook his head. “What have you gotten me into?”

  “Exactly what you wanted.” She looked over at Oona and Cian. “Is this something we can start soon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think the dwarves will be interested?” Her worries dug at her hope with sharp claws. “I know there is always a concern about bringing family to war, but I would like to make this place more than just a place to feed an army.”

  “I think the dwarves miss their families just as much as we would,” Oona replied. “They will be happy to have their spouses and children at their sides.”

  Sorcha thought about children running through the halls of this haunted place. She glanced around and saw all the cracks where plants grew and the shards of glass that littered the ground.

  It was not a safe place yet, but it would be. This castle would shine before she would let any children wander around. She imagined maids rushing through the banquet hall with brooms and washcloths. Men with large beams on their back walking amongst them, ready to fix broken walls and cracked floors.

  This castle had been a home to her ancestors once, and now she would make it a home for her people again. She wanted to hear the rooms filled with laughter, the kitchens filled with the aroma of cooking food, and the grounds brimming with marketplaces.

  They could do it. This was just the first step.

  “Let us begin then,” she said. “Oona, Cian, spread the word amongst the dwarves we are making this castle our own. Bring their families and all those who wish to work for their keep.”

  She met Eamonn’s gaze and blushed at the awe she saw in his eyes. She reached out and took his hand.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked her.

  “Absolutely. It’s time to make this place our home.”

  Sorcha loved watching the dwarves sing stones to life. They lifted their hands in song, palms raised to the sky, and let their voices fly free. The land listened to them, as she had never understood before.

  Boulders shifted, rolling gently into place. Carefully carved statues pieced themselves back together and sealed old wounds with quiet grumbles. Brick and mortar rose into the air and glided back into their places.

  She had explored as much as she dared. There was something sinister about this place, far more than Hy-brasil had ever been.

  Sorcha worried all the rooms would be dangerous until she found a hidden corridor and a quiet place. The plants didn’t move when she walked by, the stained glass windows were still intact, and moss covered the cold ground. Sorcha enjoyed the cushion against her weary feet.

  She worked with the others when she could. She gained peace from helping, even though the dwarves were loath to let her anywhere near them. The tiny bearded woman who’d first spoken to Sorcha was not the only one who held prejudice in her heart for the druids.

  The giant window let her watch them without interfering with their work. They would likely stop if she stepped outside, similar to how the other faeries had reacted to her presence.

  Now, she knew how to coax them into liking her.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  She smiled. Eamonn always knew where to find her, no matter how she tried to hide from him.

  His arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her back against his warm skin. She brushed her fingers over his forearm. The smooth crystals were not the same as she remembered from so long ago. She found herself touching him more now, familiarizing herself with this new version.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

  “Better if I had woken up with you beside me.” He planted a kiss on top of her head. “Why are you not in bed?”

  “I wanted to watch them.”

  “You enjoy the dwarven songs?" He snorted. “It is early for them to be up.”

  “I think they want to finish as soon as possible. The rains have slowed them far more than they wish.”

  She let her head tilt to the side as his fingers tangled in the curls above her ear. He frequently pulled on the coils, letting them bounce back into place before doing it again. She thought he enjoyed seeing something so vibrant in his life.

  Blue light splashed over his forearm, the stained glass window giving new colors and life to all the light touched.

  “Come back to bed,” he said with a chuckle.

  “We have much to do today.”

  “We?”

 
“Oona has asked me to help clean out the kitchens.”

  “You are the lady of this castle. You don’t need to clean.”

  “I want to,” she said. Spinning in the circle of his arms, she planted her hands against his chest. “It’s important for me to be useful, Eamonn.”

  “I will never turn you into a royal, will I?”

  “Why would you want to?” She smiled up at him, stretching for the kiss she knew he would give her. “I’m just fine the way I am.”

  “Fine isn’t the word I would use,” he said, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

  “No? Then how you would describe me, High King?”

  “Well,” his lips feathered over her cheek, moving over her nose to the other. “Exquisite. Thoughtful. Kind.”

  He tilted her chin with gentle fingers, pressing a chaste kiss against her lips.

  “Those are good words.”

  “There are not enough in the world to accurately describe you, mo chroí.”

  “Your nobility is showing,” she replied, playfully tugging on his ear. “When you speak like that I can see the king in you.”

  “Only then?”

  Sorcha rolled her eyes and pulled away. “What would I know? I’ve never met a king before you!”

  “You’ve met my brother.”

  “Are we calling him a king now? I was unaware.”

  “Sorcha,” he growled. “Come back here.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Now.”

  A delightful shiver ran down her spine. She loved it when his voice took on that hard edge. The grating sound that suggested he was a hair’s breadth from losing control.

  She bit her lip and shook her head.

  The crystals in his throat glowed a mere moment before he lunged forward. She let out a happy shriek and leapt over the bench behind her. Skirts tangled in her legs, the distraction giving him just enough time to reach out and snag the back of her dress.

  He tugged, a warning he had caught her, and then let her go. He wanted the chase, her warrior king.

  Spinning, she held her hands loose at her sides and darted her gaze around the room.

  “Are you looking for an escape?” he growled. “There is none.”

  “There’s a particularly strong looking vine behind you.”

  “You plan to climb it?”

  “I plan to tangle you in it. That will give me enough time to slip out the door and find a far more suitable place to set up camp.”

  “High ground,” he advised. “If you’re battling an opposing army, you always want the high ground.”

  “The towers then.”

  “And then what? Do you face me and fight?”

  “No,” she muttered as she looked around for a better escape. “You are much larger than me, so I do not face you. I look for anything I might throw or distract you with.”

  “While?”

  “While shouting for someone who is more skilled with a blade to come and help. They will arrive from behind if we are on the tower stairs, and then we will flank the enemy.”

  “Good,” Eamonn nodded. “Now come here.”

  Sorcha stooped and upturned the nearest bench. It crashed against the floor and gave her enough time to sprint past him.

  But he was no green warrior, and she was an untrained human. He snagged her arm, spun them so he wouldn’t hurt her, and lifted her up into the air.

  “I have taught you well,” he said as he pressed his lips against her collarbone.

  “That was the point, wasn’t it?”

  “You’re a quick study.”

  “I have a good teacher.”

  She brushed his hair back from his face, smiling down at him. Her heart was light in moments like this. When a smile crinkled the edges of his eyes, and his lips twisted with no sarcasm. He truly was a handsome man when he wasn’t so severe.

  His expression fell. “I have to go.”

  “Go? Are there more buildings to plan?”

  “I have to leave the castle grounds.”

  “What?” She shook her head in confusion. “Why?”

  “Our city is growing, and there are many more mouths to feed. I am taking a small battalion to hunt.”

  He let her slide down his body. Each inch scraped over grooves underneath his clothing she had not noticed. Armor.

  “Eamonn,” she grumbled. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t fight anymore.”

  “I am not looking for a battle. Even you cannot disagree that there are many more people to feed.”

  She sighed. This was an argument she knew well, and she understood why he was so antsy. Eamonn was a man of action. The many years on Hy-brasil hadn’t helped that. Now that he was home, he wanted to do everything he could to help his people.

  It was grating on her nerves.

  “We should focus on bringing more people here. You can turn the Seelie Fae away from your brother without bloodshed. Force his army to see you are the better king. The one who will take care of them, their families, their livelihoods. You don’t have to do that by spilling more blood upon the ground.”

  “I’m not going to,” he said with a chuckle. His finger slid underneath her chin, tilting her gaze to his. “I am getting food, so we might bring even more people to this castle. I’d like to see more Fae than dwarves.”

  “You won't fight?”

  “I will not look for a fight with Fionn.”

  She searched his eyes for the truth. There was something off-putting about the way he spoke. As if he was hiding something.

  Faeries couldn’t lie. She had to trust he wasn’t twisting his words, and he’d given her no reason to feel wary.

  A slow smile spread across her face. “I rather like the dwarves.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “I do! They’re steadfast and hard workers. That’s something rather difficult to find these days.”

  “They ignore you.”

  “So did the other faeries,” she said with a shrug. “There’s nothing I can do about that. They don’t trust me. Yet. I’m working on it.”

  “I have no doubt they will fall in love with you.” He pulled her into a tight hug. “I won’t be gone long. Only a few days.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I should say that to you.”

  “I’m safe behind castle walls. You’ll be avoiding your brother’s army, all while trying to hunt down enough food to feed a large village.”

  He chuckled and released her from his hold. “Do me a favor? Don’t speak to any ghosts while I’m gone.”

  “I don’t plan to sit on the throne either.”

  “Good girl.”

  She watched him leave the room and told herself the pit in her stomach was foolish. He would be fine. He didn’t leave with a fight on his mind, nor was his plan to confront his brother’s forces.

  But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t telling her everything. Troubled thoughts dug at her.

  Eamonn wasn’t the type to wander. He was clearly mad about her, far more than any of his people had ever seen him before. Sorcha didn’t worry that a tiny dwarven woman had caught his eye. And if she had, then good for the dwarf.

  The only thing remaining to worry about was that he still wanted to fight. That battle ran through his veins and he was sneaking off hoping Fionn might find him.

  She hoped not. Five years of war had been enough, his people grew tired of fear and hardship. There were only so many deaths that the Seelie Fae could sustain. Birth was difficult for their kind, and she feared she was the only midwife in the Otherworld.

  Worry made her mind wander. She stood in the same place, she did not know how long, staring at the door as if he might return.

  “Are you going to stand there all day?” A rough voice barked. “Or are you going to do something?”

  “Excuse me?” Sorcha looked over her shoulder at the female dwarf who had berated her soundly. “Who are you?”

  “‘Course you don’t remember me.”
r />   “No, I remember you from the campfire. That doesn’t mean I know who you are.”

  The female dwarf tossed the tail of her beard over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “Well? Why 'aven’t you done it yet?”

  “Done what?”

  “You’re a druid. They always do something sneaky to get out of situations like this. So go on. Do whatever it is you do.”

  “I’m a Weaver.”

  The dwarf snorted. “As if. There aren’t any more of those left, we killed ‘em all when we sent your lot off. I bet you talk to plants. I’ve seen ‘em reach out to touch you.”

  Sorcha narrowed her eyes at the rude dwarf. Bravery such as this was foolish. She didn’t know what Sorcha was capable of, and she still provoked as if there was no danger.

  Stinging from Eamonn’s abrupt departure, Sorcha focused on the dwarf.

  Weaving had become easier here in the Otherworld, even more so in this castle. Druid souls fed her power, their ghostly hands stroking her arms and guiding her mind.

  Plucking the name out of the dwarf’s skull was almost too easy. She pulled just the slightest amount and a strand of shimmering light hovered just above the dwarf’s ear. No one could see it but Sorcha, and perhaps the druid souls who whispered excitedly in her ear.

  “Yes,” they said. “That’s it. Pull it a little bit, don’t let her notice.”

  Sorcha sighed. “That is enough, Caitlyn.”

  The thread hummed, revealing that the dwarf preferred the name Cait.

  The dwarf crossed her arms. “That’s a good trick. Guessed that one, did you?”

  “No. It’s what Weavers do.”

  “And I’ll tell you again, we killed the lot of them in the last war. There ain’t any Weavers left. You’d be wise not to call yourself that, there are dwarves 'ere who would want to kill you.”

  The fine thread of patience Sorcha clung to snapped. She tugged hard, words spilling from her lips like fine wine. “They would kill me? Then perhaps I should be more prepared. What other names do you have stored in that little head of yours?”

  Another swift tug of her mind revealed a few names, but nothing important.

  “Hey!” Cait shouted. “Get out of my head!”

  But she wasn’t quite done yet. Sorcha pulled once more, smiled, and tilted her head to the side. “There it is. You were a lucky girl to be taken in by Angus, the man who would become king of the dwarves.”