Quest of a Warrior (Legends of the Fenian Warriors Book 1)

by Mary Morgan

  “You can do this, girl. If you fall, there’s always crawling.”

  Taking several small steps, Ivy moved ahead. Her steps remained steady and with each one, strength infused her. Reaching the double doors to the other room, Ivy pushed them open. Light spilled into the room from the blazing fire, and she glanced around in all directions. Conn’s bedroom was stark in comparison to this one.

  Beauty filled her eyes as she slowly made her way into the room. Crystals, amethysts, and various other gemstones dotted several tables, each engraved with Celtic designs. A striking carved hutch filled with glassware, silver goblets, and decanters lined one wall. Mahogany bookcases—their shelves lined with gild-covered books extended down a long corridor, and her fingers itched to touch them. On the walls were vivid colored tapestries depicting scenes of animals and great warriors, clothed in dazzling material.

  A large round oak table rested near a window. Her stomach growled when she spied a silver bowl filled with apples, pears, and pomegranates on top. Taking measured steps, she went and retrieved an apple.

  Making her way to the fireplace, Ivy paused to inspect the two beautiful chairs flanking the hearth. Carved out of wood and polished to a luster, their armrests resembled stags. Embroidered cushions in hues of green and gold complemented each chair. “Fit for a prince,” she whispered, trailing her hand over the high back.

  Leaning against the chair, she lifted her gaze. Above the fireplace mantel was a display of armory, mostly swords and shields, but they were magnificent. The room reminded Ivy of a mixture of ancient and fantasy—a blend of both of Conn’s worlds.

  With a sigh, Ivy wandered slowly to the crystal double doors, her strength increasing with each step. Pushing them open, starlight filled the area, along with the glow of the full moon. Its beam so radiant, Ivy could make out the silhouettes of the trees and landscape. She detected a waterfall nearby, its soothing music filled her, and she stepped outside.

  Inhaling deeply the cool, fragrant air, Ivy hugged her arms around her body. Lanterns were placed on either side of the stairs leading downward. She was tempted to cross the marble terrace and descend into the place, but decided to sit in one of the wooden chairs.

  Sinking down into the cushions, she took a bite of her apple. “What a magical world you live in, Conn. Why would you ever want to leave?”

  Tucking her feet underneath her, she ate in blissful silence and tried to determine the constellation of the stars. They shone mightily in the inky blackness—ones she’d never seen before. Ivy counted over twenty dragons, their outlines blazed more than the other lone stars. “So dragons did exist?”

  This was a world within another world. Or maybe it was all in one, and the Fae realm had a touch more illumination? Question upon question built within her mind, and she made a mental list to ask when she saw Conn. “Whenever the man…Fae prince decided to appear.”

  She giggled and leaned back in the chair. Soon, sleep beckoned and dreams of Conn returned.

  ****

  The scent of sweet aroma stirred Ivy awake. Opening her eyes, she tried to adjust to the intense brightness inside the room. Colors of the rainbow danced along the golden floor through the crystal panes. Confused at her surroundings, she tossed the covers off and sat. Rubbing a hand over her brow, she shook her head. Her last waking memory was of sitting on Conn’s terrace and falling asleep. Yet, her dreams were filled with him. Her face heated at the images of their lovemaking, and she longed to hold him.

  “Did you bring me back to your bed, Conn?” she asked quietly.

  Glancing to her right, she saw a gardenia floating in a large bowl. Its heady perfume filled the place. Lying next to the bowl were soaps, lotions, and combs.

  Stretching her arms over her head, she longed for a shower or hot soak in a tub. Surprisingly, her body felt rejuvenated after everything she had been through. Catching sight of the beautiful pale green gown at the end of her bed, she scooted off. Fingering the stunning, soft material, she gathered it into her arms along with a rose-scented bar of soap. Spotting the matching slippers, she opted to go barefoot.

  Making her way out of the room, Ivy shielded her eyes from the shimmering daylight. Blinking several times, her eyesight soon adjusted. Walking out onto the terrace, Ivy stood mesmerized at the vision below. Never had she beheld such beauty. Colors so vivid they stole her breath. A golden hummingbird flitted nearby, its wings glistening in the light. Lush trees, flowers, and birdsong filled an entire valley. It wasn’t a garden, but paradise.

  “What a wonder it would be to paint this bucolic scene,” she whispered.

  Hearing the sound of water, Ivy took the marble steps leading downward, sighing when her feet encountered the downy softness of the grass. Taking flight like a child, she continued on her journey until she found the waterfall, spilling into a small circular lake. Stone rocks dotted around the area with sunlight touching each of them.

  Placing her gown on one of the larger boulders, Ivy stripped from her other one. Leaning over, she dipped her hand into the water and let out pleasurable sigh. “Heated.”

  Sliding into the water, Ivy closed her eyes. The sensation was exquisite, and soon she found herself swimming to the other side. Giddy and lighthearted, she backstroked to where she had left the soap. After cleansing her body and hair with the rich lather, she swam to a larger flat boulder and hoisted herself on top. Fully stretching out, she let the warmth of the sun dry her body.

  Happy and content with her bath, she curled to her side. Ivy glided her fingers in the water. “Did you bathe in these waters, Conn?”

  Sitting upright, she hugged her knees to her chest. “Where are you?”

  Her stomach growled, and Ivy removed herself from the stone and quickly got dressed. The material flowed in gossamer waves down to her ankles, hugging all her curves as well. Running her fingers through her hair, she made her way back to the chambers.

  Upon entering, Ivy halted. Sitting in one of the chairs was a striking woman. Her golden locks cascaded around her body to her waist. The woman’s pale features were accented by the hue of her lavender eyes, and a thin silver circlet of vines surrounded her head. Her pale blue gown shimmered with the light of a thousand stars. She inclined her head to Ivy and stood slowly.

  Were all the Fae so tall?

  Ivy could have sworn the woman glided across the floor toward her.

  “I bid you welcome, Ivy Kathleen O’Callaghan.”

  “Um…hello and thank you.”

  She gestured to the large table. “Are you hungry?”

  Ivy turned her sight to the table. An array of breads, sweets, cheeses, and fruits were spread out on silver trays. “Oh, my.”

  The woman’s mouth twitched in humor. “I assume that is a yes?”

  Smiling, Ivy nodded. “Will you join me?”

  Her smile lit up the entire room. “How kind. Yet, he did mention this quality of yours.”

  “Let me guess. The elusive Conn MacRoich?” Ivy pulled out a chair for the woman.

  She let out a sigh. “Yes. My son is attending to his duties with his father.”

  Stunned and embarrassed, Ivy gripped the chair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…this is all so new. Besides, I think he owes me an explanation.”

  Moving toward Ivy, the woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “There is nothing to apologize for, Ivy. Let us start over. I am Queen Nuala, but please call me Nuala. I have come to see how you are healing. Please sit.”

  Ivy took a seat next to her and tucked her grass-stained feet under the chair praying the woman didn’t notice. No matter what Nuala had stated, she was in front of royalty—a queen and the mother of the man she loved.

  Nuala handed Ivy a plate. “Are there any questions you wish to ask me?” The queen placed some breads and cheese on her own plate.

  Ivy reached across and plucked a small loaf of warm bread, cheese, and grapes. So many burned within her mind. How could she spill them out for the queen? For Conn’s mother? In the
end, she deemed simple questions the best tactic. “How was I healed?”

  “My son’s blood helped to replenish and bind your wounds.” Nuala poured some wine into a glass and handed it to Ivy.

  Taking a sip, Ivy placed it down. “Why didn’t he take me to the hospital? They would have been able to do a blood transfusion there.”

  The queen shrugged. “A question you must present to him.”

  Ivy nibbled on a piece of cheese, trying hard not to snort. “And when can I expect to see him?”

  The woman gazed into her wine glass. “I cannot say.”

  Her words came across to Ivy as something else. “Is there more you wish to tell me, Nuala?”

  Sadness passed over her features, but only briefly. Meeting Ivy’s stare, she answered, “For the moment, Conn is preparing for the coronation that will make him heir to our world.”

  He doesn’t want to see me. Now that he’s returned to his own world, I’m nothing. Does he visit me while I’m sleeping and have regrets? He can’t even tell me in person. Reaching for her glass, Ivy drained the contents. The wine left a bitter taste in her mouth, and her hand trembled as she placed the glass on the table.

  “His chambers are stunning, but might I have another room until I’m healed?”

  Nuala folded her hands in her lap. “Forgive me, but these chambers are the only ones for you. My son has ordered you to remain here.”

  Ivy grasped the arms of the chair. “Ordered?” Seething with anger, she glanced away from the queen.

  “It does seem harsh,” stated Nuala.

  This time Ivy snorted in disgust and looked at the woman. “If you would be so kind as to inform Prince Conn that if he doesn’t show himself in his chambers by nightfall, then I wish to have someone escort me back to my home.”

  Nuala smiled slowly. “I shall pass along your message.”

  “Thank you.”

  Standing, she cupped Ivy’s face. “For now, I have placed a Fenian Warrior near your door. His name is Ronan—a dear friend to my son. If you so wish, he is here to show you our world.”

  Stunned, Ivy asked, “Is Conn aware of this situation?”

  Releasing her hold on Ivy, she waved the door open. “No.”

  “Going against your son’s orders?”

  Nuala laughed, the sound similar to chiming bells. “You forget, Ivy, I am the queen. All serve me, including my son. Furthermore, he can’t object to you wandering the grounds, or the library of the Fae kingdom while you’re healing.”

  She grasped the woman’s hands. “Thank you. I would enjoy seeing your world before I leave.”

  Ivy stood and watched as the queen glided out of the room. What if Conn MacRoich decided not to answer her summon? Questions only he could answer, might not be possible. Confusion, hurt, and anger filled Ivy like shards of glass, each one piercing her heart.

  Her earlier happiness now overshadowed by the thought of leaving and never seeing her Celt again.

  “Hear my words, Conn MacRoich, and hear them well across the winds. You were my friend first, lover second, so please do me the honor of explaining what happened.”

  Striding toward the door, she flung it open and stared upward into the face of Fenian Warrior, Ronan.

  “After you take me on a tour, please show me where Prince Conn is hiding.”

  He gave a curt nod. “I will see what I can do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “A fork in the road can alter or hinder your journey.”

  ~Chronicles of the Fae

  Lunging forward, Conn’s muscles screamed as he blocked another blow from Taran’s blade. Sweat dripped down into his eyes, but he refused to wipe it away. His body had grown weak with no one to train with and his brothers knew this well. Finbar had joined them after an hour and Conn fought them both. Yet, soon, Darroch and Faelan—two others of the Brotherhood, had joined him in the training lists.

  It was now time to end this exercise.

  “You fight like a lass,” taunted Faelan, deflecting a blow by Conn.

  “Did you hear him grunt? By the hounds, never thought to hear those words from the prince,” mocked Taran.

  Darroch held his sword up to the light. “I don’t know if I want the blood of my prince on my blade.”

  Finbar laughed. “Take pity on him, my brothers. I deem it’s the extra weight he has put on. Must have gone weak in the human realm.”

  “Arrogant asses,” growled Conn, swinging his blade outward and surprising Finbar. The Fae stumbled backward and crashed against the stone wall. “One down, three more to go.”

  “Bastard,” remarked Finbar, wiping the dust from his face.

  Giving the man a mock salute with his sword, Conn leveled it against Darroch. “Is my blood not good enough for your sword?”

  Darroch swung heavily, but Conn rebounded quickly and slammed a fist into the man’s face, knocking the Fae out cold.

  With a great war cry, Faelan charged forward. However, Conn ducked and tripped the man. Faelan landed against the well. Dazed, he shook his head, but remained seated.

  Conn glanced over his shoulder. His smile became predatory. “So we’re back to the beginning, Taran. Ready to concede defeat?”

  His friend made a slight bow, his eyes never leaving Conn’s. “Never, my prince.”

  Arching a brow, he turned and waited for the attack. In a blink of an eye, Taran vanished and reappeared behind him. Nevertheless, Conn was prepared for this tactic and effectively blocked the attack with a backhanded blow. Swiftly turning, Conn delivered a blow to the man’s chest, tossing him across the lists.

  Finally wiping his brow, Conn glanced around the training yard. “Next time, call more of the Brotherhood to assist you weaklings.”

  Darroch was the first to start laughing, followed by the rest of the brothers.

  As they all stood slowly, Conn went and embraced each one. “I have missed you all. Thank the Gods and Goddesses you didn’t bring Ronan.” Reaching for a ladle from the well, he dipped it into the water. After drinking the cool, sweet liquid, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Handing the ladle to Taran, he noticed the somber expressions on all their faces.

  “Has something happened to Ronan?”

  Taran leaned against the well. “No.” He looked at the others and then added, “He’s been given an important assignment.”

  Frowning, Conn crossed his arms over his chest. “Do tell.”

  Taran let out a sigh and dipped the ladle into the well. “He’s been chosen to be Ivy O’Callaghan’s guardian—in this realm and her world.”

  “Chosen by whom?” Conn clipped out.

  “The queen.”

  “Many have seen him escorting her about the land, including myself,” added Faelan.

  Conn’s body stiffened in shock. His own mother had betrayed him. But why? And why Ronan? The Fae was one of his dearest friends. Did he not mention to her that Ivy was to remain within his chambers until she was healed and well enough to enter her own world?

  “Where did you see them last?” demanded Conn.

  “They were walking toward the library.”

  Conn rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. “There is one more mission that must be completed before the coronation. The king has granted this, along with the Fae council. Furthermore, I shall require one warrior to make this journey with me.”

  “I will go with you,” declared Taran.

  “I have no wish to speak for the others, but I would be honored to accompany you,” stated Faelan.

  “Agreed,” announced Finbar and Darroch.

  Conn nodded. “Taran shall accompany me on my last quest as a Fenian Warrior. But I thank you all. Now, I must attend to a matter with Ronan.”

  “Do you deem it wise?” asked Taran.

  Glancing upward, Conn stared into the crystal blue sky. “When it comes to Ivy, wise is not the word I would choose.”

  “Then what word would you use?”

  There was only one, and Conn w
as unable to utter the word out loud. Love. Swiftly vanishing, he reappeared near the wooden doors of the library.

  Banishing his sword, he changed magically into his royal cream-colored tunic and golden leather pants. Running a hand through his hair, he didn’t know what he would say if Ivy was still inside the place. He paced in front of the massive doors, contemplating his words. He had spoken them often. In fact, daily.

  Each day, Conn visited Ivy in his chambers—watching over her sleeping form. He filled his empty nights by her side, telling her tales of his homeland and his love for her. Conn knew the time was fleeting. She had to return to her own world, and soon. He had tarried too long—fear keeping him away from her in her waking moments.

  He’d whispered his apologies a hundred times while she slept, but now he needed to utter the words for her to hear. The greatest challenge of his life stood behind those doors.

  Placing his hands upon the wood, he pushed them open.

  Sunlight streamed in from the adjacent windows. He nodded in passing to another Fae, keeping his senses open to her. Walking along the sections of the library, Conn headed in the direction he knew Ivy would appreciate. The history of the Fae.

  Laughter pealed out, the sound filling him. Yet, Conn was unprepared for the sight that greeted him. She sat regally in a large chair with her feet tucked under her, and her face held a rosy glow. Fae children sat around her in rapt attention as she told a story from her own childhood. One of the girls cupped a hand over her mouth and giggled. Another child held up his hand to ask a question.

  He leaned against a bookcase, his heart breaking once again. As long as he lived, he would treasure this one last moment of Ivy. Beauty, grace, strength, courage, and love.

  “I would have shown you the stars, mo ghrá,” he uttered softly.

  Ivy glanced up and their gazes locked.

  Conn straightened and moved slowly across the room. He smiled at the children as he spoke. “I wish to speak to Ivy.”