by S A Archer
“I came to remind you, and your husband, that you are Sidhe. You have a responsibility to the fey.” Donovan crossed his arms. “And the time has come for you to fulfill your obligation. No more hiding in the fields and the backwaters.”
“We were not hiding. We were never hiding.” Tamara approached him angrily. “We were keeping Malcolm as far away from magic as we could. Protecting him from his bloodhound nature. The moment we suspected his aspect of magic we knew what would come.”
“You’ll have to answer to Malcolm for the choices you’ve made. But that is not why I am here.” Donovan stared her down. “We are creating the new realm today. We need the magic of as many Sidhe as we can find. The realm needs lakes and rivers.” He nodded to her meaningfully. “And it needs the bounty that comes from agriculture.” This time he jerked his head back towards the farm, referring to Seamus.
The fog about them thinned as the first rays of sunshine filtered down between the trees. Donovan felt footsteps approaching before he heard Seamus’ voice.
“When do you plan to do this?”
Donovan glanced back at him. The man wasn’t wearing his flat cap. His elven ears poked through his hair. His work clothes showed some wear, but they were clean and hinted at enough of his shape to prove that even with magic the hard work of the farm had kept his muscles built up.
“As soon as we have everyone together, this afternoon or early evening. On the Isle of Fey.”
Seamus considered Donovan without emotion, then finally said, “Then this isn’t going to be done exactly as Danu had done it. If you need our help that is.”
“No, it’s not. This time we are going to do it right. And this time it won’t be the Seelie that control it.”
A look passed between Tamara and Seamus. “For Regan,” was all she said. He gave a nod to that, and then added, “and Malcolm.”
Tamara frowned at the mention of her son’s name, and there was an undercurrent of an old disagreement between the two.
Donovan didn’t care about the details. All that mattered was that they did right by the fey. “Then we will see you there.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Malcolm crouched down and clutched at the sides of his head. The headache gnawed at his brains with a vengeance. Even mostly hidden by the ridge, away from the dwarves deconstructing the housing for the contraption, and on the far side from the village and the hillside where the fey were gathering, the chaos tormented him. The noise. The lights. The choking mixture of smells.
Nothing to do now but wait. Wait and endure.
Rocking helped just a tiny, tiny bit. So he rocked.
Soon… Soon, it would be over.
Just a little longer, then he could rest.
When the magic of the artifacts had driven him, nothing really bothered him. Now that it was pretty much done with him, all the sensations came crashing in on him again. Bit by bit, they were growing more intense.
Malcolm slipped his finger into his pocket.
Silence.
“Are you ok?”
Malcolm spun about, his hand jerking out of his pocket and away from the relief the silver offered. A guilty blush burned his face, feeling caught in the act of something wicked.
Again, the commotion crashed over him like an ocean. The surprised sound he started to make came out as a pained groan. Malcolm winced, as he faced Kaitlin. His hands crushed against his temples, as if that might stop his skull from splintering.
Turning from her, Malcolm sunk down onto his bum, his back to the artifact construct. Down the slope from him, Tom Cat chased a butterfly through the freshly planted grasses. Malcolm stared at the cat, so carefree and happy, and envied him.
Kaitlin slipped down beside him. Her white shorts and tank top reflected the sunlight, nearly too bright to look at. But her skin was smooth and golden, and his gaze fixed on her legs without him really thinking about it. She had nice legs.
“Head hurt?” She asked, and stroked his hair.
Malcolm jumped at the contact, flinching away instinctively. Heart hammering, when there wasn’t even any reason it should. No reason at all for him to panic.
Just, right now, he felt so raw.
Kaitlin didn’t comment on his flinching, just waited until he calmed. Then she reached again.
This time, he just let her.
“Skittish, like a colt,” she murmured, mostly to herself, Malcolm figured.
He just shrugged, still paying attention to her legs, but mostly with a sideways glance. They looked soft. Smooth like. Nicer to think about than the tiny little dwarves in his brains with their savage pick axes.
Lightly, her fingers brushed along his hair and over the slope of his ear. Malcolm half closed his eyes.
“Aren’t you hot?” Kaitlin’s voice was real pretty, even for a Sidhe. Like she was singing, even when she talked. Her hand glided down his arm, soft over the fabric of his long sleeve t-shirt that was pushed up to the elbows.
Being overheated probably added to the headache, but all Malcolm’s attempts at Glamour were total disasters. Until he could Glamour over his scars, the long sleeve shirts and the wristbands weren’t going anywhere. So, he just shrugged again.
Next time she reached up, the back of her fingers glided along Malcolm’s cheek. Her Touch flowed, a cool melody that absorbed into his skin.
The hiss that escaped him wasn’t expected. Her magic cascaded across his face, making his lips tingle. Malcolm leaned into the Touch, not even meaning to. The music glided over his nerves in the song he remembered. The most beautiful song he’d ever heard. It had guided him to Kaitlin, when no one else knew where to find her.
Music was like water to the fey soul. That’s what he’d heard people say.
And he believed it was true.
Her magic caressed his mind, soothing away the hurt.
Not even thinking about it, Malcolm shifted to lay down. His head pillowing on her thigh as he glanced up at her very pretty face.
Kaitlin smiled gently at him. Her fingertips brushed over his forehead, washing away the pain. Just at this angle, he couldn’t tell if her eyes were more blue, or green. Her hair color had begun to change too, he’d noticed. When she first came, she was blond. Now, darker roots were beginning to grow out, giving her hair more dimension with the mixture of highlights and lowlights.
As he gazed up at her, she traced his features. Along the bridge of his nose. Over his cheekbones. All along the line of his jaw. Every bit of it soothed him. The tension from the magic eased back, as her music claimed the forefront.
Her thumb glided over his lips, leaving a fresh flutter of tingles in its wake. “Better?” She asked.
Malcolm nodded, closing his eyes. “Yeah.”
As she traced over his eyelids, the worst of the pain melted out of his notice.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The hours passed without London counting them. She watched the people coming and going, just small figures moving through the picturesque town down the hill. All the while Lugh stroked absently through her hair or down her side. He leaned back against the tree, not bothered by the discomfort of it, as he spoke to her. She pillowed her head against his chest, resting there with him. London had wanted to know all his stories, even if they were centuries more than she could ever hear. She craved to know her patron. To know Lugh better than anyone. Better than Manannan. Better even than Rhiannon, who had been his lover for thousands of years. But more than that, it seemed that the longer he spoke the more he remembered. The more he became the man he’d once been. The man he had once lost, and was regaining one thread at a time.
When the shadows of afternoon extended, the fey began to take down the construct of wood and canvas. The huge globe of enchantment cast a light of its own, giving the world a sh
immering golden halo.
“Looks as if they are about ready.” Lugh shifted, dislodging London.
She sat up, finger combing her hair. “Looks like it.” She needn’t ask him if he were excited. She knew he had wanted this as long as she had known him. Since the Collapse itself, really.
But she also knew that he didn’t trust Malcolm’s expertise when it came to the magic. If the whole thing exploded in a glorious spray of sparks, he wouldn’t even survive to say, ‘I told you so.’
Lugh offered his wrist, the vulnerable inside turned towards her.
London glanced up at him.
He nodded to her. “We would not want our Unseelie ‘hosts’ to take offense.” Or cause a commotion that might ruin the chance to create the realm, London thought. Lugh had not gone to Manannan as the Unseelie feared. No point in having them doubt his honor.
From her pocket she extracted the silver cuff. The teeth of it clicked as she closed it around his handsome wrist. Her fingertip traced the bones of it before trailing down his long, articulate fingers. Sometimes his beauty captivated her. All of the Sidhe possessed that quality, but no one else was her patron. No one else would allow her the liberty to just appreciate their sculpted perfection. Lugh meant more to her than the source of the Touch that she needed to live. He meant more to her than the patron to whom she had pledged herself. She truly cared about him, even when he had been in the throes of the darkness, even when he had believed Manannan over her. If she were honest, London would even admit that she loved him. That she had loved him since the day they had met. Not a romantic love. Something more important than that. Something more visceral. Something more essential.
And whether it was true, or delusion, she believed that he loved her, too. In as much as a Sidhe could ever love a human.
Drawing his arm from around her, Lugh reached around and clicked the cuff a little tighter. Then, in a very gentlemanly fashion, he helped her up even as he rose. They brushed themselves off and then faced the magic that awaited them. Lugh offered her a tender smile as he reached out a hand to her.
London slipped her fingers into his palm. The warm strength of his hand curling over hers was the most reassuring sensation of her entire life. Whatever was to come… whatever might happen next… in this one single moment she was content. Content as she had never expected to be since Rico first cursed her. The warm sensation of knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be, doing what she was supposed to do, with the man she was meant to serve, filled her with a conviction that consumed her world.
Hand in hand, the two of them walked down the hillside. The closer they came to the magic the more the excited fey voices bounced around them. Fey of every variety rushed about, coming and going from the magic that would become the new realm. Those who were meant to be a part of it gathered close. The rest scattered about on the hills that overlooked it, prepared to either watch the spectacle or be destroyed by it.
Although certainly the fey didn’t harbor the doubt that Manannan had instilled in Lugh. But knowing the wildness of the Unseelie bloodhound, London couldn’t be too sure if Manannan was wrong.
Whatever was to come was out of their control now. They could only trust to hope and faith, and go forth boldly into what fate had waiting for them.
Lugh did not release her hand. Instead he walked with her into those collected around the base of the magic. She caught him offering a smile to Dawn and another to a redheaded boy, but he spoke to no one. More than anything, she knew that the Seelie’s silence was a sign of his contrite spirit. Together they walked between Sidhe and lesser fey alike, until they presented themselves before Donovan.
The Unseelie leader leveled a dark gaze at them. Lugh didn’t flinch. He only offered up his handcuffed wrist.
For a second London didn’t think Donovan was going to release it. The two men fixed their eyes upon each other, neither speaking. What passed between them, London could only guess. Lugh had told her about times when he and Donovan had been allies. Each time had been brief, and born of necessity. Finally, Donovan used a key to unlock the cuff. He flung it aside and one of the Brownies collected it and returned to his hillside viewpoint.
Then Donovan turned those deadly eyes upon her. He didn’t like her any more than he liked Lugh, but he gave her a flick of his head that silently instructed her to join the fey up on the hillside.
Donovan returned to those around them, without ever having spoken a word.
Lugh turned to London. Without the silver, his Touch flowed once more. In front of everyone, he cupped her face and bent to her. Their mouths came together in a kiss that was deep and sensual. His power filled her like it never had before. A rush of pure light coursed through her body, filling every nuance. Every fiber responded to him, coming to life with his magic. Connected to the ley lines as he was, there was no reason for him to hold back any longer.
She drank it in like life itself, which for her it was. The warm sweep of his tongue caressed her mouth. He tasted of summer and sunshine. The generous give of his mouth spoke of more than physical enjoyment. This was a kiss of thanks. And in his Touch she felt the truth of it. He had lost himself. He had lost everything. When the Mounds Collapsed his world had been destroyed, literally and emotionally. And then the darkness, and the manipulation of Manannan, had stripped away everything within himself that he held dear.
The hope that a new fey realm was about to dawn crested within his power as he exhaled it into her soul. And whether they succeeded, or whether he died in the attempt, he was truly grateful that she had given him back the truth of himself.
And for that he would always love her.
Lugh did not weep, but the tears rolled down her face for him. His arms circled her as he broke the kiss and hugged her tightly to him. His mouth nestled next to her ear and he whispered, “If I die, and you survive, you have enough of the magic within you to last a little while. Manannan claimed he has allies. I believe this is true. You are clever. You can find them. Show them my token. Share with them my story and my assurances that they would honor my last request, and care for you as if you were their own druidess.”
London hugged him around the neck and they held each other tightly for what may well be the very last time.
Then she drew back, and swiped the tears away with her leather gloves before fixing a confident look upon her face. She gave a nod of thanks and understanding and then finally she slipped away. She didn’t look back until she climbed up onto the hillside and found a place to sit and watch.
When she looked again Lugh had joined the others.
London drew up her knees and hugged them under chin. There was nothing for it now, except to wait.
As she watched the fey take their positions, her patron among them, other fey came and filled the space around her. She paid them no mind, until one spoke to her.
“Would you ever have imagined this?” Kev’s voice murmured.
London twisted, surprised to see him comfortably seated beside her like he’d been there a while. “Back when we first met?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t foresee any of this.” London had to laugh, though it was hampered by tension. “I wouldn’t take anything for the journey, though.” Surprisingly, that was the truth.
He offered her a hand and she hesitated only a second before accepting it. “He’ll be alright. Don’t worry.”
The smile she gave him was grateful.
Kev squeezed her fingers, then they watched together, waiting for the action to begin.
Chapter Sixty
How long he napped there, with Kaitlin caressing him, Malcolm couldn’t guess. But finally, she whispered, “I think it is time.”
He opened his eyes, waking more refreshed than he would have thought possible. As he sat up, and her Touch stopped, the noise and commo
tion slowly filtered back in. He could handle it now. At least for a little while.
Once he began to stir, Tom Cat pounced on him. Malcolm scooped up the young cat and slung it over his shoulder. He suspected Regan whispered something to the animal that would always bring him back home to Malcolm, no matter how tempting the butterflies were.
Malcolm helped Kaitlin to her feet, but once they were standing, his hand didn’t immediately let hers go, like he thought it would. But she didn’t seem to mind, walking back with him that way, letting the physical contact serve as his way to thank her without him having to stumble over the words to actually say it. Only when they joined the gathering Sidhe by the artifacts, did her thin hand slip through his and they wandered apart.
Just in time, it seemed, since the next thing he knew, Regan propelled her small self into him and squished him with her way-too-tight sister-hug-of-doom. “Malcolm!”
“Hey, Squirt!” He blinked down at her with astonishment. “You came?” He glanced up. “Ma? Da?”
“Over there.” She pointed. Their parents watched him and Regan from a distance, but didn’t come over.
Only Donovan joined them, with Dawn in tow. The healer smiled down at Regan, “Let me show you where some of the fairy children are going to sit and watch. They have some treats, if you’d like to share.”
Malcolm caught Regan’s hand before she could go and passed off the feline. “Watch Tom Cat for me?”