by Mary Morgan
****
Fresh snow draped the trees in a blanket of white creating a magical effect around her cottage. Holding her mug of tea against her chest, Ivy stared out the kitchen window. Several weeks had passed, and the melancholy refused to leave her side. It kept her company and at times, held her prisoner in her own home. She’d tried fighting the ache within, but its claws had settled deep inside her heart.
Therefore, Ivy kept busy at the Celtic Knot. Nan and Roger had proved to be diligent and hard workers. They’d maintained the store to a pristine and profitable condition during her short absence. Preparations were now being made to hire a local storyteller for the children on Saturday mornings, and Ivy let Nan oversee the interviews.
Peter Gallagher had returned and given his account to the Garda. The villagers were furious with his involvement, but soon took a softer approach for Nan’s sake. When he walked into the Celtic Knot, Ivy patiently heard his apology, and then sent him on his way. Her wounds had not healed, making forgiveness extremely difficult to give the man. Perhaps in time, she told him.
The Garda had even questioned her when Mike Banister suddenly dropped off the planet. When they asked her about Conn, she informed them that he had returned to Dublin and should seek him out there for further questioning. They would never know the truth—Conn was gone forever, and Banister vanquished to another time-period, so Ronan had shared with her.
Her days might be filled to the brim with work, but the nights were a disaster. The utter loneliness and torment of never seeing Conn entered her during those long, dark hours. Her life would never be whole, and Anne Fahey’s words came back to haunt Ivy.
“I don’t want to become a bitter old woman,” she cried out.
Neala rubbed against her leg, and Ivy blinked. Placing her cup on the counter, she bent and scooped up the soft feline. Nuzzling her close to her face, she sighed. “I must find a way to move forward from all this encompassing grief, my friend. It’s not healthy. And I’m beginning to hate Sundays with nothing to do.”
The cat purred within her arms.
Giving Neala one more scratch behind her ear, Ivy gently put her down and went to retrieve her coat. Brushing her hand over Conn’s leather jacket hanging in the closet, Ivy had found she couldn’t bear to get rid of the only item of his in her home. Letting out a sigh, she closed the door softly.
Making her way out of the cottage, she paused by the garden gate. Her beautiful garden flourished even in the harsh weather. She would be forever grateful to Conn for transforming a broken mess into a stunning paradise of flowers, vegetables, and herbs. Her refuge. Trailing her fingers along the wood, she smiled.
Moving onward, Ivy followed the path to the one place she had never inspected. The stables. Her steps hastened as she approached the place through a cluster of pine trees, the snow crunching under her feet. Halting before the structure, she gazed upward. “Wow. Did you mean to have a lot of horses, dad?”
Approaching the two stable doors, she let out a sigh of relief. “Good. No keys needed.” Lifting the latch, she pushed them open. Stale air greeted her as she stepped inside. Yet, the place was in spotless condition. Ivy walked down the center, counting ten stalls—five on each side. The place was equipped with everything required in keeping a horse.
Instantly, an idea was born.
Twirling around, Ivy almost squealed in delight. Cupping a hand over her mouth, she tried to stifle the laughter—the sound foreign to her ears. Inspecting each of the stalls one more time and taking note of everything else, Ivy quickly made her way out of the place.
Entering her house, she picked up her phone and sent a text to Sean. Not waiting for his reply, Ivy grabbed her purse and headed toward her car. Maneuvering the car carefully out and onto the main road, she tried to contain her excitement.
While in the Fae realm, Ronan had shown her a pasture where many horses were grazing. At the time, Ivy was still recovering, and he refused to let her ride. She pleaded and sobbed, saying it would be good for her health. Bribing a Fenian Warrior didn’t work either, so she had to be content with watching the magnificent animals from a distance.
What she longed to do was ride a horse through the Irish countryside. And there was one horse she was determined to find. The one that had saved her.
Steering onto the path near Sean’s home, Ivy parked off to the side. Quickly shutting off the engine, she opened the door and stepped into a pile of soft snow. Shaking her head, she carefully made her way to the front door.
The man greeted her on the front steps. “I was about to head to the Seven Swans. Care to join me?”
Beaming up at her friend, she replied. “Love to.”
“Good. I’ll drive,” he stated over his shoulder as he went back inside his house.
“Scared of my driving?”
Sean returned and locked the front door. “Always.”
She grabbed his arm. “At least I can chat while you drive.”
As soon as they got inside, Sean turned toward her. “It’s good to see a smile on your bonny face.”
“I’m tired of this heaviness in my heart,” she uttered softly. “Did you know I was out to the stables for the first time today?”
He laughed and started the engine. “No. I assumed you had already inspected them on your first tour with Peter.”
Ivy snorted. “He never showed me the place.” Waving her hand about, she added, “They’re amazing. Did he…dad have any horses?”
Glancing in both directions, Sean turned the car down the main road. “Yes. He had several many years ago. It was his goal to teach horseback riding lessons. Sadly, after you and your mother left Ireland, Thomas abandoned his plans and sold the animals.”
Ivy peered out the foggy window. “I plan on acquiring a horse. It’s a beautiful place and should have one…or two.”
“Excellent news. Thomas would approve. How have you been feeling?”
She eyed him skeptically. “I’m very well, thank you. You don’t have to fuss over me. You’re as bad as Erin. She’s constantly bringing me food and touching my head to make sure I’m not running a fever.” Ivy pointed to her body. “Remember, Fae blood inside me.”
“Yes, but—”
“Stop,” she interrupted. “I’m having a happy moment. Don’t spoil it for me.”
Smiling, he nodded.
Turning into a parking space near the pub, Sean turned off the engine. As Ivy exited the car, light snow fell softly on her face. Lifting her head, she welcomed the dusting of flakes.
Making their way inside the warmth of the Seven Swans, Mac waved at Ivy and Sean in greeting. The place was packed with villagers, and Ivy noticed a band setting up in the back. One of the musicians winked at her. If this was some other time, I might have considered winking back, but not now and maybe not ever.
Ivy leaned near Sean. “Let’s grab a booth away from all the noise.”
“Are you sure? They play a mean fiddle, along with great storytelling.”
She shook her head. “Baby steps, Sean. I’m learning to take them slowly toward civilization. Now let’s take a seat, so you can tell me where I can find someone to help me tame a wild horse.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“When the stars are aligned, anything is possible.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Leaning against a pillar in the Hall of Remembrance, Conn stared at a paneled mirror. Though golden light reflected all around its borders, he gritted his teeth. He’d saved Ivy, but the other he had failed. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. The seer refused his request to witness the events afterward for Ivy’s ancestor, saying the O’Callaghan clan had once more taken their place in the light.
The image wavered and flowed and time moved forward. Nevertheless, it would never continue with him.
He’d hardened his heart from all emotion, even when he visited the royal house of Frylnn. His decision to wed the eldest daughter was granted by her father. Instead of sealing the pledge wi
th a blood rite, he left the palace. Conn had no desire to set eyes on the woman until the wedding ceremony. He knew her well and deemed her to be an excellent choice for his people. His father would be pleased.
Conn glanced at the summons in his hand from his king. No doubt to discuss terms of the union. Crumbling the missive, he tossed it into the air and watched as the paper vanished.
But the idea of marrying without the bond of love left a bitter angst within him. For as long as he lived, there would only be one who claimed his heart. She might be departed from this world, yet, her essence still lingered. Her voice, her scent filled him each time he stepped through the door to his chambers.
“Ivy,” he whispered, her name on a prayer.
Cautiously moving forward, Conn raised his hands outward and a group of mirrors appeared. He had sealed them off the moment she’d left the Fae realm. Deep sorrow had filled him in the beginning, and he sought refuge inside the hall—reliving every detail of their time together, and then cloaking them.
His hand wavered, aching to unveil them one more time. But he closed his fists and turned away. Too many memories haunted him here, ripping apart his soul. Clenching his jaw, Conn stormed out of the room.
As soon as the doors were sealed, he made his way through the marbled archway and across the bridge. Approaching the palace of his parents, he nodded to a guard as the Fae opened the gilded doors.
Stepping through, he went directly into his father’s solar. Placing his hands behind his back, Conn waited to be acknowledged.
His father glanced up from his reading. “Why are you standing thus? Take a seat.”
“I have other appointments to attend to.”
King Ansgar’s eyes hardened. “What angers you, Conn?”
“I have no desire to speak about my emotions. And for the record, I am not angry.”
His father rose slowly from his chair. “Is this how we shall be from now on? With our conversations consisting of clipped sentences? I have no wish to see you become a martyr.”
“Martyr?” echoed Conn. “Have I not done what you have asked of me? I am fulfilling my duties. A bride has been chosen, and I’m positive we can come to terms with a date by next full moon.”
“And can you be happy?” uttered his mother softly coming into the room and standing beside his father.
Conn held her gaze. “I have given my pledge, but desires—happiness was not on the bargaining table.”
“So you’ll rule as a hardened king once I am gone?” snapped his father.
Fury crawled to the surface within him. “I will do my duty, but do not ask me to be happy.”
“What of love?” asked his mother.
“The only woman I ever loved is forbidden to me,” snapped Conn.
His father pointed a finger at him. “Another poor decision on your part.”
Conn clenched his jaw so tight he feared it would snap. Unclenching his hands, his voice took on a chilling tone. “She was the best decision I’ve ever made in a millennium. Be content with your marriage pact and an heir to the throne.”
Without asking for permission, Conn flashed his hand in the air and vanished. Entering his chambers, he removed his royal tunic and tossed it on the floor. Flinging open the doors, he halted. Ivy’s presence surrounded the entire area—from terrace to the garden paths and even the waterfall.
On a groan, Conn transported himself to his stables. Seeking out his horse, he mounted the animal and took off to the only place he could find solace.
****
“You may be the King of the Fae, but you are as stubborn as your son,” protested Queen Nuala.
“Stubborn?” he barked. King Ansgar paced in front of his desk. “Did I not allow his woman to live?”
“The woman has a name,” she corrected, clasping her hands in front of her. “You make her sound meaningless. Since when did humans become lesser than a Fae?”
Taken aback, King Ansgar halted. “Have I ever stated they were?”
“No, but your actions prove otherwise.”
The king wandered over to a large window. Placing his hands on either side of the stone, he cast his gaze outward. “It was not my intentions. I have only wanted the best for our son. He never listened to me in his youth. Joined the Brotherhood over my objections. Our conversations were always fraught with terse words. Each time a suggestion or order was given, he countered it, or bent it to suit his needs.”
“He may have disregarded your orders as a father, but he would not do so with his king.”
King Ansgar turned around and folded his arms over his chest. “Are they not one in the same?”
Queen Nuala smiled. “Not for our children, dearest.”
He groaned. “Do not speak to me of Abela. I still have misgivings about her becoming a priestess. A royal princess has never undertaken such a cause.”
His wife moved toward him. “Did it ever occur to you that our children were destined for greater? The loom of the Fae has come to a crossroad within the stars.”
Narrowing his eyes, he glared at his wife. “You’ve spoken to the seer.”
She held her head high. “Yes.”
“Yet, she refuses to speak to me?”
Queen Nuala placed a hand on his chest. “Because you refuse to see with your heart, my king. You’re ruling our children with your mind. Controlling their actions. Wanting to carve out their futures. It is not yours to do so.”
“I only wish for the best,” he uttered softly, looking into the eyes he loved so well.
“Must I remind you that twins have never been born in the Fae realm? They were destined for a greater purpose. One dark, the other light. A balance of both realms.”
“Is this what the seer has told you? Are you able to share her message?”
She nodded. “If you pull too hard on Conn’s thread, the entire kingdom will suffer from this unsteady path. Our son met his destiny the day he made the decision to save Dervla. If he had chosen another, his quest would have never seen him return to take his rightful place as the future king.”
Stunned, the king leaned against the stone wall. “So all of this—his trial, his failure to save the right human all had to do with Conn?”
Tears glittered in her eyes. “Yes.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But she—Ivy is a human.”
“And what about the Dragon Knights? They are part human and Fae.”
“It was different. We required guardians for the dragons. Mother Danu gave her blessing.”
She cupped his face. “Our children are unique. They will change both worlds for the better. The Dark One may have been vanquished, but I sense another presence looming far out there. We shall need the strength of a stronger Order of the Dragon Knights and Fae, including the humans.”
King Ansgar grasped her hands and placed a kiss inside each palm. Releasing them, he tipped her chin up with his finger. “The seer did not see this. You, my love have had the visions.”
Her smile spoke volumes. “You know I cannot speak of this.”
“You are my queen, but also the daughter of a seer. Tell me, what am I to do?”
She brought her arms around his waist. “I would never begin to tell my king what to do.”
He leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss over her mouth. “Then tell your husband—your lover what he should do.”
“Go speak to your son as a father and not as his king.”
****
Conn let his horse set the pace, galloping over open hills with the sunlight streaming all around him. A cool autumn breeze invigorated him on his journey. The vastness of the place poured out before him, urging him onward.
Heading toward the southern gate, he nudged the animal away from the giant oaks and toward the flowing stream. Bringing them to a place shaded by several birch trees, Conn dismounted.
“Go drink, my friend. You have earned it.” Giving his horse a firm pat, Conn fisted his hands on his hips and drank in the scene. The stream lapped gent
ly over smooth stones on its passage to the western ocean. The gateway to Tir na Og.
Striding over to one of the trees, he collapsed onto the soft grass. Bringing his knees to his chest, he stared outward. Swans glided past him, oblivious to his presence. He tried to clear his mind—to bring himself to center within his body, mind, and soul. Yet, there was too much chaos and his emotions clouded.
Would he ever find peace? If turmoil were the price for Ivy’s love and saving her life, he would gladly do it all over again.
A lone doe ambled on the other side of the water. Her lazy movements settled a small part of his inner battle. He brushed a hand over the ground and wildflowers bloomed, reminding him of another.
“Serene and beautiful,” commented his father taking a seat near Conn.
He eyed his father skeptically. “A place of solace.”
“Yes. Often times we would find you here when you were very young.”
Conn frowned. “How young?”
His father rubbed his chin in thought. “The first time, you were five summers.”
“I don’t recall the memory,” he stated and turned his sight back to the swans.
“You were angry. I refused to let you go to the lists with the other warriors. You stomped your foot and vanished before my eyes. It was the first time you defied me.”
“And not the last,” Conn replied dryly.
His father chuckled. “No, though I would not expect anything else from my son.”
Conn stood. “I have no wish to displease my king.”
“I have always been proud of you.”
He turned toward his father. “Why are you here?”
The king stood and placed a hand on Conn’s shoulder. “Cannot a father wish to speak to his son?”
Conn arched a brow. “Speak plainly, father. Mother might be used to you answering questions with a question, but I refuse.”
Releasing his grip, his father surveyed the area. “Tell me about your Ivy.”
Shocked by his words, he narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
The king moved toward the stream. “I shall like to hear how a Fae prince and Fenian Warrior fell in love with a human.”