by Emma Hamm
Eamonn leaned against the door with his arms crossed. Sorcha’s father walked over to him and stood watching the teeming mass of females.
“It’s rather intimidating, isn’t it?”
Eamonn glanced down. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Her family loves her very much.”
“It is a rare gift. She appreciates it.”
“Do you?” Papa glanced up with a stern expression. “I won’t have my daughter taken away from me by the Fair Folk.”
Eamonn found it strange that such a small man was threatening him. Humans were tiny compared to the Tuatha dé Danann, and yet Sorcha’s father had no hesitation. He understood what those words meant but did not curb his tongue.
Inclining his head, Eamonn replied, “I have no intention of keeping Sorcha from her family.”
“Good, that is good.”
Sorcha glanced up and gestured for Eamonn to join them. “Mo chroí! Let me introduce you to my family!”
He shouldn’t have to steel himself to manage a group of Sorcha’s sisters. But Eamonn found himself more nervous than the eve of battle.
Straightening his waistcoat, he stepped forward. “Ladies.”
They tittered. Tittered and giggled like little schoolgirls and ducked their heads to whisper to each other.
Gods help him.
Eamonn glanced behind him, hoping Sorcha’s father would provide some much needed guidance. The old man simply shrugged.
Some use he was. Eamonn clenched his fists and lowered himself onto a tiny couch with women flocking all around him.
“Sorcha! I thought he was supposed to be beastly! That’s what all the stories say.”
“Stories?” Sorcha blinked at them. “What stories?”
“Well once we knew you went to Hy-brasil, we searched for any rumors! Everyone was talking about the ugly brute on the isle, but this man… Oh, he’s not ugly at all.”
He wanted to remind them that he could hear them. But the ladies were enjoying themselves, and he hadn’t had a crowd of women admiring him for a very long time. What harm could find him from allowing himself to find peace?
Sorcha’s eyes flashed with jealous anger.
Right. That’s where the harm could come from. Sighing, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss against her temple. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies. But I have other business to attend to. I trust you will take care of my life?”
“Your wife, you mean?”
“No,” he corrected. “My life. She is the very reason I draw breath and is worth far more than just a title.”
One of the sisters listed to the side with her hands pressed against her heart.
He stood immediately, catching Sorcha’s eyes to make sure she was all right. She nodded with more glee in her expression than he had ever seen. If all it took to make her happy was having her family around, then he would keep them.
What would the old Tuatha dé Danann say to that?
Grinning, he strode from the room. He did not run. No one would dare say that the new king of the Seelie Fae would ever run from a group of women.
But he may have rushed.
The servants bowed as he walked by, and Eamonn didn’t have the heart to tell them to stop. So many things were already changing. They needed something to remain the same so their world didn’t completely upend.
He looked just like his brother. Some of them still slipped and called him by Fionn’s name, turning white as a bean sidhe when they realized what they had done.
He wouldn't hurt them for the small slip. He understood why they were concerned, but didn’t have the heart to punish them. These people had suffered enough.
Or perhaps they hadn’t. Some of them had liked having Fionn has their king. Eamonn didn’t know what to make of that.
The dungeon was a dank, dark place. Water dripped from the ceiling in a never ending stream of sound that would have driven him mad. Some of the prisoners had already lost their minds.
Eamonn had personally reviewed their records. Some he let go, Lesser Fae who had broken the law only to feed their families. Others stayed where they were. Just because the king changed didn’t mean murder was acceptable.
At the far end of the dungeon, far away from the others, Fionn waited. His arms stretched out at his sides, chains digging into the skin. His beautiful hair dripped water and hung lank to the ground. They removed most of his clothing, leaving him in nothing more than dirty breeches.
Eamonn nodded at the guard who opened the door.
Fionn did not even look up.
He knelt beside his fallen brother and sighed.
“You told me I forced your hand when you plunged the Lugh’s spear through my heart.”
The chains rattled, but Fionn remained silent.
“So I say to now, you have also forced my hand. I wish it could have been different between us, brother. I would have liked to rule with you by my side.”
Eamonn tipped Fionn’s face up, staring at his sunken eyes and the bruises on his jaw. It was like looking at a mirror image of himself. And so painful that Eamonn forgot how to breathe.
“Are you going to kill me?” Fionn croaked.
“No. I’m banishing you to the human lands and denying you all ties to the Otherworld. No faerie shall speak with you, no Wild Hunt shall find you. I gift you life, brother, but nothing else.”
“It’s a fate worse than death.”
“Perhaps you think so now. But I promise you, someday you'll realize these people are capable of love in a way we never imagined. You have never been alone, Fionn. Now you will be.” Eamonn stood. “I look forward to watching you, and how you change your story. Or how you don’t.”
As he walked out of the cell, Fionn lifted his voice once more.
“And Elva?”
“She doesn’t love you, brother.”
“It doesn’t matter. I love her, and I would know she is safe.”
“Elva has taken her life into her own hands.” Eamonn clasped his hands behind his back and turned towards Fionn. “She travels to an isle far north, dedicating her life to the art of war. No man may step foot on those lands. I would be surprised if she ever leaves it.”
He turned away from the tragic expression on Fionn’s face. The fallen king was more affected by the loss of his consort than he was his own fate. A shame, because his brother didn’t know what real love was.
The chains rattled, and Eamonn blew out a breath. The head of his army waited at the top of the stairs. The tall elf worked closely with Angus who had returned to his home under the mountain.
“Your Majesty?”
“You heard my judgment?”
“Yes. Do you wish to wait and speak with the queen?”
Eamonn shook his head and clapped a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “No. She need not be a part of this. Keep the information from the dowager king and queen, they are to be confined to their quarters for the remainder of their lives. Banish Fionn, take care of the gates, and ensure all faerie rings reject him. I want no chance that he will ever return to the Otherworld.”
“Consider it done.”
He already did. And perhaps that was why his heart ached.
Much later, Eamonn awoke from his dreams. The wind brushed through the windows of the high tower, cooling his skin. Groggy and half awake, he reached for Sorcha only to find her spot cold.
He grumbled as he rolled over to stare at their balcony.
The moon silhouetted her figure, sheer white fabric billowing over her body as the wind kissed her curves. How he loved her.
A man’s legs shifted, perched on the railing. Eamonn also knew who that would be. Damned Unseelie, they never knew when to stop meddling.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and strode towards her. Shirtless, he pulled her back against his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“Bran,” he grumbled.
“Your Majesty.” A distinct tone of mockery was in the Unseelie prince
’s voice.
“Jealous?”
“Never. The throne is not my destiny.”
“Don’t say that. The ancestors have a way of meddling in our lives.”
“I wish they’d stick to humans.”
Sorcha scoffed. “Keep your bad luck to yourself, thank you.”
She was warm and soft, everything he had always desired his wife would be. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a Tuatha dé Danann woman quite like her. They were always regal, put together, tall and broad shouldered. Sorcha was tiny and so hot she burned like a furnace.
He spread a hand wide over their child and the ever growing bump of her belly. “What were you two talking about?”
“The future,” Sorcha replied.
“And?”
“We think it will be very good.”
“Is it? Why do you think that?”
Bran chuckled. “My mother said so.”
“Ah. Then it will be.”
Eamonn felt the last chip of his soul slide back into place. His life had never been blessed with love, family, friends. He’d always been alone.
Now, with this woman who was never alone, he found himself and a future filled with laughter and love.
Sorcha’s hands pressed against his, and a firm kick pressed against his palm.
“Was that–?”
“Your daughter is restless, Athair,” Sorcha said with a smile.
He didn’t care that Bran was watching. Eamonn spun her around and dropped to his knees. He pressed his lips against her belly and felt the slow roll of his child between her hips.
“Just a little while longer, nighean, daughter. Soon our family shall be together at last.”
Sorcha threaded her fingers through his loose hair, and Eamonn suddenly realized what it was like for all to be right in the world.
Afterword
And thus ends the second part of Socha and eamonn’s story.
What a journey with these two! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this book, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well!
The series of the Otherworld will continue in another character’s story, with a new fairytale. I think it’s safe to say, I can tease you that the story will be the Swan Princess!
Please make sure to keep in touch on my social media (Facebook, email, etc) as I will continue to update you on all the exciting new stories and books!
Well met, and blessed be.
Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank for this book that I couldn’t possibly write them all down. If I forget you, I am sincerely sorry and yell at me later.
Nata - Again, the cover. I mean SERIOUSLY I am so lucky to have found you and your wonderful talent. This artwork embodies everything I want people to see in these characters. Their strength, their virtue, and their ability to overcome all odds. I can’t thank you enough.
Amy - The fearless editor who has no problem telling me when something is stupid, or just not up to my usual standards. You’re a saint.
Renee and Emily - The fearless duo who have helped me get through writing in general. Thank you for never letting me get too far down in the dumps, and for taking the time to listen. It means the world.
Mom and Dad - Is there any way to thank you? For all the bruises, scrapes, nights crying, headaches, and crap you put up with, I love you and appreciate you more than words can express.
To my Readers - Every book you buy, every review you leave, every message you send means the world. (Didn’t that sound like it was going towards a Police song? Everything breath you taaaake)
This is for you.
About the Author
Emma Hamm is a small town girl on a blueberry field in Maine. She writes stories that remind her of home, of fairytales, and of myths and legends that make her mind wander.
She can be found by the fireplace with a cup of tea and her two Maine Coon cats dipping their paws into the water without her knowing.
To stay in touch
www.emmahamm.com
[email protected]