The next few weeks passed swiftly as Kellen and I took turns tending to Isleen. I wasn’t completely certain she would recover. When she began to push us away and walk about the cottage on her own—that was when I knew she would be well soon. Her voice remained a whisper for a very long time and, later, when she became a woman it had a low dusky quality to it that would cause many a man to stop and listen, spellbound.

‘Tis often the side-effect of magic.

My sons had it too, though in a different way. They never lost their love for their wolf fur. It got to the point that I often had to remind them to dress in Tuatha de Danann skin when they were inside the house.

They became good friends with the wolf pack that had joined forces with us on that fateful night. The pack leader became a trusted friend, too, and came to visit us often. I even taught him how to speak like a human, so he frequently dined with us, telling us tales about what had happened in the wood. His pack guarded the cottage for as long as they lived—which was a very long time, for they had all eaten Leanan Sidhe flesh and it possessed strange immortal qualities I had not suspected.

Perhaps the least surprising thing that happened was that Kellen began to fall in love with me, as I had with him.

Faeries fall in love quickly. It leads to much heartache when we fall for the wrong person. I never had to deal with a Duine courtship before, but I was immortal, so Kellen’s slow pace was fine with me.

It was like the building of a fire.

The smallest things caught first. Sparks lit up the edges of bark, moss, and dry leaves; then tiny flames licked at twigs and small pieces of wood; and finally, large logs and chunks of peat were engulfed in a roaring blaze.

His hand on my shoulder while we cooked a meal together. His smile when we laughed at how our children loved to chase one another through the forest.

His tears when I said it was time for my boys and me to leave.

“Where will you go when the winter is still so fierce?” he asked. He stared into the fire, I think trying to hide his emotion. Hadn’t he already lost his wife? But he had never said that he loved me and it wasn’t right for me to be here.

“Across the Muir Éireann, I think,” I said. “To Alba.”

“There’s no home waiting for you there.”

“Kellen, I have no home in all of Ireland. I cannot stay here, expecting you to feed us and care for us. We’ve been taking advantage of your generous nature for far too long.”

He turned to face me. “This could be your home. If you would have it.”

I paused. “What are you saying?”

He swallowed and his gaze darted away. He took a deep breath, then another. At that point, he seemed to fill with courage and I was glad for it.

“I love you, Eire. I have from the first time I saw you, back in the cave.”

My pulse quickened, for I think I had fallen for him back then too. Even before I saw his face or felt the warmth of his smile or was cheered by the light in his eyes. He had shown me the kindness of a friend when I was trapped in darkness.

And since then, he had shown me the sweet love of a Duine man for a Duine woman.

He pulled me into his arms then, and lifted my chin until I was gazing into his eyes. He kissed me, long and deep, making me forget everything I had planned to say about leaving.

“Stay here,” he said a heartbeat later. “Marry me.”

It was my turn to become weak and not know what to say. I’d wanted to hear these very words for so long that I had nearly given up.

“I—I—” All I could do was stammer, my own eyes filling with tears.

“Say yes. Please.” Then he kissed me again and if I’d had any doubts about whether he meant what he said, I certainly had none now.

“Yes, Cara Maith,” I answered when we finally parted long enough for me to speak. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, than at your side.”

He gave me a grin that made me burn inside. “We’ll marry on Christmas Day, then, when my kin and the other Guardians visit.”

I nodded. It sounded perfect. Even though I had no idea what or when Christmas was. I only hoped this day would come soon.

* * *

The following days were spent gathering greenery from the forest. Ambros and Benen frolicked about as wolf cubs, of course, occasionally romping past me with a pine branch between their jaws. Isleen wore the new red cloak I’d made for her, with white rabbit fur at the collar and cuffs, while she filled her basket with mistletoe. Kellen and I foraged for ivy vines and sprigs of bright red and green holly. His blue eyes glistened as if he was keeping a wonderful secret, his cheeks reddened by the cold.

He was a gloriously handsome Duine and I looked forward to the day of our marriage.

Soon we were all crowded back inside the warm cottage, a hearty stew cooking over the fire, while we made garlands together. Once they were finished, Isleen showed us how to drape them across the mantel and arch them over the windows.

I began to wonder if my new family was preparing to celebrate one of the ancient Celtic holy days. Solstice perhaps, or a feast to honor Saturn. Although the typical type of behavior that took place during such a festival didn’t seem like Kellen’s way. He was such a gentle, soulful man.

But hadn’t the Druids behaved like that? Looking into their eyes had been like staring into a deep pool, hypnotic and dangerous. Throughout the centuries, I’d often stumbled upon Druid altars in the forests, human bones strewn amongst the charred wood. Their kindness often led people into a trap.

Their rituals of human sacrifice conjured dark magic—like the silver weapons that gave victory to the Duine Milesian invaders. Because of them, my immortal people had lost.

The ribs in my chest tightened, as if encircled by a band of metal.

Kellen couldn’t be a Druid, could he? I should have waited until we were alone to ask him, but I had to know now. I couldn’t spend another night here, not if he was a conjurer of dark magic.

“Are you a Druid?” I asked him then, my words abrupt and cutting off Isleen, who had been explaining a game to my boys.

The cottage grew quiet. Isleen cocked her head, as if she hadn’t understood my question. Kellen frowned for an instant, then he must have decided to turn it all into a joke.

He laughed. “Women usually ask me that when we first meet. During dinner in fact. Kind sir, what kind of flesh is this we’re eating?”

“Then—you are. And you’re preparing to celebrate Solstice or Saturn or some raucous feast with drinking and—and—and—human sacrifice.”

“Human sacrifice?” Benen asked, walking closer to me, his brow furrowed.

“We usually only kill one or two villagers—” Kellen said.

“Da, stop teasing!” Isleen chided her father.

A low growl settled in Benen’s throat, despite the fact that he was properly dressed in Tuatha de Danann flesh and wore a brown homespun tunic. Ambros sat in the corner, but a growl sounded in his throat as well.

“We’re honorable folk,” Isleen declared, as she put a hand on Benen’s chest, holding him in place. “We’re Christians, both of us, and about to celebrate our high holy day. Da’s only teasing and trying to make light of it, because—”

Her voice faltered and she glanced away. She was so like her father. Benen’s attitude changed abruptly and he placed one of his hands on hers.

“What is it, Isleen?” he asked.

Ambrose was still a little boy, through and through, except for those times when he was a wolf. But Benen was quickly growing a man’s heart.

“Because Ma died on Christmas Eve, five years ago,” she said.

I glanced at Kellen, not sure what to do, and his lips tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said as put his arms around his daughter. “We have borrowed some of the old ceremonies and included them in our Christmas celebrations, but there are no Druids here or anywhere nearby.” He looked down at his daughter. “Joking helps me deal with our loss. But I never meant to hurt you, my little mountain princess. Is Christmas Day a good time for Eire and me to wed? Or should we wait until spring?”

Isleen shook her head, her long dark braids tossing over her shoulders. “I wish it was today, Da. Spring would be too long to wait.” Then she gave me a timid smile. “But there will be no human sacrifice, Eire. I promise. And we’ll never kill another wolf, either. On Christmas, there will only be gift-giving and feasting and the telling of tales.”

“Thank the stars and moon for that!” Ambrose said, as if that was the most important thing he had heard all day.

Benen laughed and pushed his brother. They fell on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs and before we could stop them, they became wolves again, barking and chasing each other around the cottage. We were all laughing by the time we caught them, just before they knocked over the pot of stew and ruined our dinner, but not before they chewed up the last of our pine branches.

Kellen and I chased all three children outside.

Once we were alone and done cleaning up the mess, he sighed and I feared his heart had turned serious after the mention of his dead wife.

“I’ll never be one of the Fair Folk,” he told me. “My beliefs and my ways are different from yours, Eire. But I’ll always love you. From now until my last day, and even after that.”

I slipped my arms around his waist and pulled him close. I pressed my head to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, knowing that his would stop beating long before mine.

“I don’t want one of the Fair Folk for my husband,” I told him. “I chose you, even before you chose me. I’d love you even if you cast me out today—”

“I’ll never do that.”

“Listen, you need to know the way of the Fair Folk. I choose you as my husband and, like the Duine women, I choose to follow your God too—as long as we don’t take part in human sacrifice, and I liked what Isleen said about not killing wolves either—so I pledge myself to you, Kellen of Sléibhte Chill Mhantáin, here and now. When you call, I will come.”

He grew so quiet I wasn’t sure if he had heard me. I pulled away to look up into his eyes.

“Are we married now?” he asked, confused.

I laughed. “No, you have to say the same thing back to me. And mean it, of course. And we still have the proper Duine ceremony on Christmas Day, with all your kin and the other Guardians—”

‘When you call, I will come,” he said. “I will always be here for you.”

He kissed me then, before I could explain the other differences between a Fair Folk wedding and that of a Duine. But it didn’t matter. He’d learn about them soon enough. Even without me telling him.