It was another day, or maybe a week, or perhaps much longer, before Sloane saw anyone again. Time didn’t seem to move normally here, here being a field full of flowers that never seemed to change. It was daytime, always the same weather. Pleasant. Neither hot nor cold. A soft breeze that never altered in speed, direction or temperature.

She never got hungry or thirsty. Never felt the need to use the bathroom or shower.

Sloane had read too much Celtic myth not to grasp what it all meant, but she was also refusing to think about it too closely. Doing so might drive her mad. Not that she wasn’t heading there as it was.

She wondered what Aidan was doing, if they’d told him anything. And if they had, if he’d found a way to share any of it with Jenny or her parents. Who knew how much time had passed in the real world?

The endless questions tortured her but there was one in particular that beat inside her skull as she waited.

Where was Mac?

Was he okay? When was he coming back to her?

Was he coming back to her?

Trust me, machree.

I’m trying. I’m really trying here.

She heard someone talking up ahead and ran forward to investigate.

It was Aine. She was tossing bread to birds gliding across a lake. A lake that had never been there before. Sloane figured out who Aine was ages ago. She’d figured out a lot of things in her time here, the name of the Celtic moon goddess the least of them.

Sloane frowned, but before she could speak, the goddess did.

“How are you finding the Otherworld?”

“I’m finding it wickedly ironic I’m now a prisoner in one of my books,” she said, her voice croaking slightly. Though her books had never been quite this cruel.

Aine laughed, tossing more bread, watching the swans peck at the glittering surface of the lake. “Oh, we’re not bad as all that, are we?

“I’ll let you know, but it’s not looking good so far.” Sloane glared at the pinkish-purple sky, her mouth tight. Aine glanced over a slim shoulder, then sighed.

“Lugh will release you, eventually. He’s not a bad person.” The goddess pulled at an odd flower, one with thin, translucent blue petals. “And I know he feels a debt toward your father and his friends still. Not to mention Mac himself is like a father to him. But a king can’t tolerate insubordination. There are some rules even Mac can’t break.”

“And the one about gods not taking mortals as mates is one of them?”

The goddess nodded, picking at the bluish grass between her dainty toes.

Sloane threw her hands into the air. “But that makes no damn sense!”

“Doesn’t it? Your books don’t think so. If I recall correctly, gods and mortals don’t mix well there either.”

“You’ve read my stuff?”

“I was . . . curious. They were rather intriguing, but you sure got Mac all wrong.” The goddess’s blue eyes danced with amusement.

Sloane winced. Leirr, her version of the god of the sea in her books, was dark haired, dark eyed, slim and very bi.

“You don’t think Mac has read…?”

“Oh, I’m sure he has taken a peek or two. Not that I’d know for sure. Your lover hates me almost as much as he hates my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Fand.”

“Oh.” Yet another thing she’d had far too much time to think about. Husband. Mac had never mentioned being married. Then again, he’d never mentioned being a god either.

“I can hear the world of curiosity in that one little ‘Oh,’ mortal. Go ahead, ask.”

Sloane hesitated only a second before giving in. “Were they really married? Like officially?”

“Well, you know gods don’t really do ‘official.’ It’s not like there’s a courthouse here in the Otherworld.” Aine sniggered.

Sloane shot her a look and Aine’s expression sobered. “But yeah, they were as official as it gets in these parts.”

“Could you be any more ambiguous?”

“Well, it was duty, you know. Mac’s da made a promise. A vow.”

More vows. Like Mac’s to Aidan. Great.

“Mac had to abide by it, and I don’t think he was fussed either way, to be honest, but Fand …she wasn’t happy about the match, or marriage in general. My sister was fond of her freedom, a husband was her idea of prison. But she didn’t dare refuse.”

“Sounds positively medieval.”

“Girl, we’re gods. We invented medieval.” Aine chuckled, then sobered. “And Fand was a right little cunt back then, let me tell you.”

“She was?” Sloane stared.

“Ah, let me guess. You’ve been taken in by my sweet dreamy-looking sister?” Aine grinned knowingly. “People change. Gods do, too. It just takes much, much longer with us.” She shook her head again. “She loved being pretty and being queen. The very single and fancy-free queen of the fae. She loved making mortals fall for her. She wasn’t deliberately vicious, not like some of her kind can be, but,” the goddess shrugged, “she didn’t care either.”

Aine continued to shred the flower in her hand, looking thoughtful. “Cúchulainn had a bit of a crush on her. It drove Bav nuts when she found out.” Aine mused, looking out at the stars. Then her eyes darted to Sloane. “You know about her and your da, I guess?”

She frowned, thinking of what Heather had told her of their history with the goddess of death. But despite all that, they’d both seemed conflicted, Aidan in particular. Her own impression of the goddess, however brief, had been rather favorable on the whole. It was hard to see her as the twisted monster they all claimed.

“Is she really so evil?”

“She’s a bitch, if that’s what you mean.” Aine let out a soft laugh and rubbed her arms.

“I figured that much, thanks. But I mean, who is she really?”

“She’s fucked up is what she is. I don’t think even Bav knows where her head is at anymore. But back then, with Cúchulainn . . . yeah, she was straight-up evil. Though not as evil as she got with your da.” Aine gave her a sidelong look before continuing. “Bav arranged it so Mac would see them in a compromising position.”

“Fand and Cúchulainn?”

Aine nodded. “One thing you have to say about Mac, when it comes to loyalty, the man does not play. He was furious.” She looked thoughtful, then shrugged. “He could’ve killed her. There some as think he should’ve, but what Mac did in the end was bad enough. He took away Cúchulainn’s memory, but Fand, he cursed something awful.”

“Cursed?”

Aine’s lips curved, and for the first time, Sloane realized how cruel they could be. “That’s why she seems so sweet these days. Mac’s the best of us at magic and the spell he put on Fand . . .” Aine shuddered. “She feels the consequences of each and every one of her actions. No matter how small, you get me? The pain, envy and anger she causes comes back to her threefold.”

Sloane’s eyes widened.

There was a devilish gleam in those dark eyes. “Now you see why she’s such a simpering twat. She has no choice really. It also proves what a badass Mac is. It’s no small thing to curse a fairy. They may look cute, but their magic is deadly.” Aine shuddered again. “It’s why mortals forget everything around fairies. No one can match them in illusion, but while their pretty pictures turn your head, they’re sucking your soul dry.”

“Like vampires, but worse,” Sloane mused, thinking about her father.

Aine laughed. “I don’t know about worse, but I will say it makes perfect sense vampires were spawned from the Fae.”

“Abhartach was really Fae?” The idea of that gravel-voiced thing from her memories once being a creature like Fand made Sloane start.

“Aye. Once upon a time.”

“Why didn’t he come after me long ago? If Declan was able to get past Mac, surely his master could have managed it.”

Aine frowned. “No purebred Fae could have ever set foot on Manx.”

At Sloane’s puzzled look, Aine shook her head. “Oh come on, you research us for a living, you must know this.”

“Yeah, like there’s an encyclopedia or something. No two stories agree on anything about you lot.” Sloane rolled her eyes.

“No Fae can cross the open sea. All of our magic is born of this land, but for the Fae, they are actually born of the magic. To leave Ireland is death for them.”

Sloane frowned. “But Fand came to the beach, where Avalon meets Manx. She talked to me there, right before you and Bav showed up.”

“Well, now that’s Mac’s doing, believe it or not.”

“Mac?”

“It was his wedding present to her, that pretty torc she wears. It’s made of the bedrock of Ireland, and concealed inside it is earth as well. Mac weaved it all together so she could be a proper queen to him. Otherwise, she’d never have been able to set foot on Avalon.” Aine smiled thinly. “You can imagine how closely she guards the damn thing. Never takes it off as far as I can tell.”

The goddess got to her feet, yawning. “Enough gossip for me for one day. Anything you need before I go?”

Sloane raised an eyebrow and looked around pointedly. Aine laughed.

“Except escape, of course. I can get you anything else, within reason.”

“Okay, I want my dad.”

It was Aine’s turn to frown. “You really are determined to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?” Then she shrugged. “Oh well, I don’t see why not. And if Lugh doesn’t like it, fuck him.” A smile teased that pert, pink mouth. “Which I do as frequently as possible.”