Children of the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  “That’s not the real reason and you know it,” he repeated.

  “Yes, it is.” I stood firm, but my knees shook, nausea twisting at my insides.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Okay fine!” I exploded, pacing through the trees. “Because I was ashamed. Because I was embarrassed. Because I made a terrible call, and I didn’t want you to look at me like you’re looking at me right now.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his face was drawn, his eyes glittering. “You think I’ve never made a terrible call?”

  Tears welled up in my eyes, and I looked away, blinking them back.

  “You think I’ve never done things that filled me with shame?” He stepped forward, his arms outstretched. “Jaysus, come here.”

  I dove into his chest and he locked me against him, absorbing each wracking sob. I cried for my mother, for the relief of finally telling him the truth. I cried for the beautiful city of Teamhair, for all the fear and insecurity of leading this rebellion, the endless doubts refusing to leave me alone. And when I finally raised my head, hiccupping and gasping for air, I studied Finn’s face, the love written across his eyes. Courage surged through me, filling every inch of my being with the lifted weight of my confession, with the strength that comes with knowing whatever I had done, he was still standing there.

  He cupped my cheek and brought my mouth to his lips, and my knees buckled under his overwhelming hunger, his tongue lashing inside me, searching, always searching for something closer. He moaned and broke off, bringing my forehead to rest against his.

  “Just promise me one thing,” he whispered.

  “Anything.”

  “That you’ll never again sell your soul to a demon to save my sorry Irish arse.”

  I let out an ugly, spluttering laugh, and he chuckled, pressing another small kiss to my cheek. With one quick gesture, my fingers clamped onto his tight behind, and I massaged the firm muscles there until he groaned, thrusting his hips closer against mine.

  “Oh, but it is such a fine arse.” I laughed again, my hands wandering up to clasp around his lower back as I buried my head into his chest.

  “Yes, but you should see yourself when you’re angry.” His breath felt hot against my ear as he dragged his lips against my neck. “You’re already half demon, woman, I swear it on my life. There would be no living with you if you suddenly sprouted horns.”

  I pounded my fist playfully against his shoulder, and he tightened his arms around me, his muscles rippling from the strain. We stood like that in the forest, the world brightening all around us as a new day lightened the sky to a dusky periwinkle color, turning the blades of grass to silver beneath our feet.

  Finn let out a long sigh and leaned back, his hands slipping to my elbows.

  “I also have a confession to make,” he said.

  My heart pounded, the smile disappearing from my face. “What is it?”

  He looked down at his feet, and then his eyes drifted to the horizon where a pale sun blinked against the dark hills.

  “When Amergin captured me, I begged him to spare your life. He…” Finn stammered and then his head swiveled, his dark eyes boring into me. “He promised not to kill you, but he made me swear on the blood of Morrígan that I would remain to serve him.”

  My spine stiffened, and I shook my head. “But, but Amergin did try to kill me.”

  Finn shook his head. “’Twas a devil’s bargain. He didn’t kill you, but he had no problem sending you to the Fir Bolgs.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, massaging my forehead. “So what happens now?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t say. No one has seen the Morrígan for centuries, so perhaps it was just a big show.” He rubbed his chin, and his voice softened. “I have broken oaths before…”

  “But a blood oath?” My voice raised in pitch, the knot in my stomach twisting. “That sounds like something you don’t fuck with. What if—?”

  Finn grabbed hold of my shoulders and bent his head to look me in the eye. His long lashes sent dark shadows across his cheek, matching the stubble on his chin. He let out a long breath, and another, until my own exhalations slowed, and I swallowed the script of anxiety playing over and over in my mind.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I have fought with everything I have to remain by your side, and now that I stand here, there is no force in this world or the next that will tear me away from you. I will fight. I will keep fighting. I am not afraid.”

  I nodded, staring down at my scuffed boots. “Do you think love is a form of temporary insanity?”

  “Insane? Yes.” He pulled me in close and we stood holding onto to each other.

  “But temporary? No.” He took my hand and pulled me into the trees, his palm searing and gripping me tight. “This is forever.”

  Epilogue

  “Ow!” I cried, shrinking away from Malachy. “That fucking hurts!”

  The dearg-dubh gave me a withering stare. “You want the tattoo or not?”

  I took a deep breath and stretched my hand to him. “Just try not to press so deep this time.”

  Malachy dipped the needle into a pot of ink, tapping it on the sides. “That’s kind of how this works.” He focused on the shape of the swan taking shape on the back of my hand. “What a baby,” he said under his breath.

  “I’m not a baby—Ow!”

  A bead of blood burst on the surface of my skin, and Malachy wiped it away.

  “Just try to hold still,” he said.

  I nodded, watching the swirling lines of a wing spread slowly toward my fingers. “Did you do all the tattoos for the Children?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit.” I winced, trying to keep my hand steady as he stabbed at my skin.

  He continued to work, his long curtain of dark hair shadowing his face. When he was done, he took hold of my fingers and interlaced them with his so that our tattoos were side by side, the wings creating the illusion of a single bird in flight. His appeared faded, the feathers a bit blurry now, but the black ink on mine stood out in sharp relief against my sore, reddened skin. Though the tattoo was small, it was magnificent, the Celtic swirls dancing across the back of my hand.

  “Hey look.” He squeezed my hand and gave my shoulder a slight shove. “Besties!”

  A weak smile spread across my lips. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Guess we’ll have to teach you the secret handshake now.”

  “There’s a secret handshake?”

  Malachy chuckled. “Oh, Elizabeth…”

  Una charged into the room, throwing the curtains back. “Sorry, ma’am, I mean Elizabeth. But they’re all waiting for you outside. I don’t think Phelan can hold them back any longer.”

  Malachy stood up and winked. “I’ll get the crowd warmed up for you,” he said before vanishing out of the cave.

  Una smiled, her brown eyes glittering. “They’ve come from all over. Púcas, leprechauns, Tuatha Dé Danann, dearg-dubh, pixies, sprites. Everyone!”

  She scampered out, beckoning me to follow. I stood, sharp needles darting through my feet from sitting for so long. I tugged at the gold-plated bustier Malachy had drudged up, the metal matching the ceremonial pauldrons on my shoulders. A gauzy white dress trailed behind me, overlayed with a dark green mantle, the Tree of Life embroidered across the velvety material.

  The curtain lifted and Finn entered, his eyes appraising me up and down. “You look stunning.”

  I placed my hands over my metal boobs. “You don’t think this is too…I don’t know. Lady Thor?”

  He tilted his head and studied my chest from all angles. “It seems…supportive?”

  I chuckled, throwing my shoulders back with an awkward little jiggle. “Quite.”

  Flashing me a brilliant smile, Finn took me in his arms and planted a firm kiss on my lips. His fingers danced across the embossed metal back of my armor until he found the rise of my hips, and with a low grunt brought my body square with his.
Desire burned through me, but I pulled away, the chanting outside growing louder and louder.

  “Mmm…” I moaned, turning to face the door. “Later.”

  “Wait.” He took hold of my hand and whirled me around. “I think your costume is missing something.”

  I waved my hands in the air. “Oh no. I already told Malachy. No opera-lady Viking horns. I know he wanted to go for some Queen Maeve thing, but I’m…”

  He nodded, raising his hand to cut me off. With a low bow, he held his hand out to the side. “Gaisced Uath.”

  I glanced at Finn’s hip where he had already strapped his sword. “What are you—?”

  With a flash of light, my spear, the Gáe Bulg, appeared in his hand.

  I backed away, a jolt of terror slicing down my spine.

  He raised his palm. “It’s all right, Elizabeth. Eamonn and I figured it out.” His fingers traveled down the length of the shaft, tracing a thick leather material wrapped around the gleaming wood. “He was able to enchant it to keep you safe, or anyone safe who wields it.”

  I took a few tentative steps forward, studying the smooth brown leather circling tight around the spear.

  Finn held it in both hands and shifted down to one knee. “Take it. It is yours by right.”

  Closing my eyes, I reached out and took hold of it. The shaft hummed beneath my fingers, the weapon calling to me, begging me to wield it, to send it whirling through the air. Strike. Spill blood. But like Finn said, the enchanted leather had muted it, and when I took a tentative practice swing, it didn’t try to pull me into action, didn’t force me across the floor like some mad puppet. The magic within the weapon merely rested…and waited.

  “You know,” I said, “most men would offer up a ring.”

  “I am not most men.” Finn raised his gaze to look me square in the eye. “And I know what my lady needs.”

  Licking my lips, I brought the spear close to my side like I had seen in the movies, memories of last night warming my cheeks. “Right you are about that.”

  He rose to standing and took hold of my wrist. “I can teach you some basic steps. Or Grainne can. She’s good with a staff.”

  “That’s what she said,” I whispered, lacing my fingers with his.

  He ignored me and gestured toward the cave opening. “Are you ready?”

  “Is anyone ever ready to lead a revolution?” I said, breaking free of Finn’s grasp. “Is there a manual somewhere I could read first?”

  “Sadly, no.” He took a deep breath and paused to face me, his hand brushing away a loose curl from the braids twisting across the crown of my head. “I know your mother would be very proud if she could see you now.”

  I took out the Tree of Life medallion hidden beneath my armor and it fell against my chest with a soft metallic sound. Placing my hand over it, I gave Finn one final kiss before facing the crowd.

  “I know she’s here somehow,” I said. “She’s always with me.”

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  Pronunciation Guide

  Ailbe: AL-bee

  Aillen: AL-an

  Aisling: ASH-ling

  Amergin: AH-mer-gin

  Aoife: EE-fah

  Aos sí: Ace Shee

  Balar: BA-lar

  Beavoin: BAY-vwin

  Bodb Dearg: Bove DYER-rig

  Brehon: BRAY-hon

  Bres: Bresh

  Bricriu: BRIK-roo

  Cú Chulainn: COO HULL-an

  Cú síth: Koo Shee

  Dearg-dubh: DYER-rig

  Eógan: OH-in

  Fianna: FEE-eh-neh

  Fionn mac Cumhaill: Finn ma-kool

  Fir Bolg: Feer BOL-ig

  Fomorians: Fo-MOR-ee-ans

  Gáe Bulg: GUY BOLL-ig

  Grainne: GRON-yah

  Lir: Leer

  Malachy Moray: MA-la-kye Mo-RAY

  Máirtín: MAR-teen

  Moíre: MOY-rah

  Mórrígan: MOR-ee-gahn

  Niall: NYE-all

  Niamh: NEE-iv

  Phelan: FAY-lan

  Púca: POO-kah

  Scáth: SKAH

  Scáthach: SKA-hakh

  Seamus: SHAY-mus

  Teamhair: CHOW-er

  Tír na nÓg: TEER-na-nohg

  Torc Triath: TORC TREE-AH

  Tuatha Dé Danann: TOO-a-hah dah-DAN-an

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for picking up my book, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you’re interested in updates on new releases and giveaways, I hope you will sign up for my newsletter here. I only send out newsletters with big news, and I will never spam. I promise!

  You can always find me blogging away at www.colleenhalverson.com. I love staying connected with readers, so please feel free to follow me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. I can’t wait to hear from you!

  Sláinte!

  Colleen Halverson

  Acknowledgments

  I wrote the draft of this novel in the middle of two polar vortexes, and I need to thank Jessica Bloczynksi for accompanying me on that sometimes very lonely, very cold, journey and for giving me so much support and feedback. Thank you to Michael Mammay for being a constant friend, critique partner, confidante, badass ninja extraordinaire, and generous dealer of fucks and no-fucks. You always know which one I need on any given day, and that is nothing short of a miracle. Thank you to Kim Cohen for all the feedback, the late-night, wine-fueled brainstorming sessions, and for being a friend. Down the road and back again. I can’t believe we found each other under the circumstances, but we did, and I’m very excited about our Golden Girls utopia. Also, thank you to Barney Gedero and Greg Manlove for your amazing insight, and many thanks to Shiv Ramdas for walking me through my first major fight scene and all your ideas for it.

  I also need to thank Stephanie Kernik for all her help with tesseracts and fourth dimensional travel. As requested, you did actually explain it in a way a fifth grader could understand it, and I will always appreciate that. Also, much gratitude to my brother for all his help with ideas for what those pesky Army Lieutenants might have been up to at the JAC in the late eighties. Thank you, always, to my brother Adam Booker for being there for me, and keeping me in good music.

  I want to thank my Richland Center community for all their incredible support. I especially want to thank my If table community and for listening to me ramble on about writing and balancing work and family over our dinners. Thank you for your warmth and friendship. I’m also very grateful to my Facebook 2016 Life Raft community and for their constant support on this strange journey. I also want to thank all the readers, book bloggers, and reviewers for all their encouragement. You keep me going in the darkest hours, and I thank you for all that you have done to make this series successful.

  I extend a very special thank you to my editor Awnna Marie Evans for her steadfast support of me and my vision. Thank you to all the editorial and marketing staff at Entangled for helping me bring this book to life.

  Of course, none of this would have been possible without the love and support of my parents—Chuck and Claudette Booker. Thank you for all your guidance this past year. A special thank you to Joe and Jean Halverson for always being willing to babysit their grandkids when mommy is on a deadline. Also, thank you to my children for constantly showering me with their joy and unconditional love and reminding me of the importance of things like sledding and building blanket forts. Finally, I want to thank my husband Aaron Halverson for standing by my side through this incredible journey. Toni Morrison said it best: “I didn’t fall in love, I rose in it.” I always had the story in me, but you made the story possible. I love you with all my heart.

  About the Author

  As a child, Colleen Halverson used to play in the woods imagining worlds and telling stories to herself. Growing up on military bases, she found solace in her local li
brary and later decided to make a living sharing the wonders of literature to poor, unsuspecting college freshmen. After backpacking through Ireland and singing in a traditional Irish music band, she earned a PhD in English with a specialization in Irish literature. When she’s not making up stories or teaching, she can be found hiking the rolling hills of the Driftless area of Wisconsin with her husband and two children. Children of the Veil is the sequel to her debut novel Through the Veil.

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