Chapter Ten
No matter how far or how fast Fáelán ran, Morrigan’s accursed window into the earthly realm kept pace beside him. He refused to look, lest he be drawn in by what he might see. His lungs heaved, and sweat dripped from his bare skin to combine with the gray mist of the void. Though his muscles burned and cried for mercy, he kept moving.
Options were few as to how to spend his time. He’d chosen to expend his energy through physical exertion, working his body until exhaustion dulled the cutting edge of his pain. ’Twas the only way he knew to stay sane. Only in sleep and dreaming could he be free, and then he dreamed of a life with Regan.
Shortly after his confrontation with Morrigan, he’d inadvertently caught a glimpse of Regan crying herself sick whilst sitting on the couch in her town house. That brief look had set off an unbearable inferno of grief and rage, and he’d quickly learned to be more careful. He’d tried to will himself elsewhere, but Morrigan had put a stop to his wandering. He’d even tried to go through the window itself, to no avail. Fáelán’s entire life had been reduced to two objectives: remain sane, and thwart Morrigan in every way possible.
Coming to a stop, he leaned over and gasped for air. His limbs shook with fatigue, and he sank to the ground. Now that he’d completed the physical exercise, he began the mental drilling. Fáelán brought to mind all the training he’d received in Fionn’s army. He relived every battle he’d fought, studying his opponents’ moves, countermoves, feints, parries, grapples and holds. With no weapons to hand, or sparring partners, all he had were his memories to help him keep his skills sharp. Soon fatigue overtook him, and he dozed.
Someone’s presence woke him, and he once again found food and drink had been left beside him, though whoever had brought it was gone. Morrigan no longer risked having a servant bring his meals to him whilst he was awake. Did she fear he’d somehow convince one of the fae servants to help him? If so, was that not proof of her guilt, and that she had indeed broken her oath? That might lead King Lir to intercede. Then again, it might not.
Even if King Lir chose not to act, over time Morrigan’s guard would slip, and Fáelán would be ready. He’d catch one of her servants bringing his food, and he’d beg for their aid. Aye, he’d throw himself at their feet if need be. All he had to do was feign sleep and wait—not now while Morrigan would still be vigilant, but in time.
Sighing, he sat up and drew the tray to him. Gods, he was tempted to look through the fecking portal, if only to assure himself Regan was safe. Surely she’d realized by now he hadn’t left her by choice. He prayed she’d do naught to provoke Morrigan. His skin crawled at the thought of Regan being anywhere near Morrigan or any other of the Tuatha.
“Regan will forget about me, and she’ll go on with her life, Morrigan,” he shouted, his voice still hoarse from his last bout of shouting. “I’ll not put on a show for ye.”
“Perhaps, but you will not forget her. Think you I cannot feel your suffering even now? Seeing you so utterly defeated gladdens my heart.”
Though he sensed she was nowhere near, Morrigan’s words came to him through the mist from all directions. He let loose a string of curses.
“Speaking of your mortal lover, I’ve a bit of news that might be of interest to you. Do you wish to hear what I have to share?”
Ever so casually, he lifted the water goblet and took a drink, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response.
“Nay? Well, I shall share it regardless. Regan is with child, a child you will never know and who will never know you.”
His grip tightened around the goblet. Was it possible his and Regan’s love had borne fruit? Aye, ’twas possible, but Morrigan was deceit incarnate, and he and Regan had only forgone protection once in the brief span of days he’d dwelt in the earthly realm. “Ye lie,” he shouted into the mist.
“Do I? I’ve provided you with the means by which you may see the truth for yourself. Now you shall also watch your child age and die before your eyes.”
He couldn’t get any air into his lungs, and his insides shattered into a million pieces. Fáelán squeezed his eyes shut, lest a single tear escape. Concentrating his will, employing all his self-discipline, he began reciting the saga of ancient Irish history aloud, just as he’d done before Fionn so many centuries ago. If he erred, he’d stop, go back to the beginning and start over.
Morrigan’s laughter reverberated around him. Fáelán continued with his recitation, moderating his tone and volume, giving no outward sign that he was dying inside.
Regan’s hand was still held in Boann’s as the two of them came to a stop. “Where are we?” she whispered into the pitch blackness surrounding them. Wherever this was, it held the same warm, pulsing energy as Lia Fáil and smelled of earth. A still, humid warmth enveloped her.
“Beneath Tara.”
They were in a cavern under a mountain of dirt and in complete darkness. That explained the unease traipsing down her spine. “So I was right, and the Hill of Tara is a gateway into other dimensions.”
“’Tis but one of many thoroughfares between the realms.” A tiny orb of light appeared above Boann’s palm. “Even in the darkest places, light and heat can be drawn forth. Hold out your hand, Regan.”
She did, relieved by the light Boann had created. She’d expected Boann to give her the glowing sphere, like she had with the dust bunny, but she didn’t.
“Concentrate upon the smallest bits of . . . I believe you would call them leptons or neutrinos.”
“What would you call them?” Regan tried to imagine the plastic models of atoms she’d studied in high school.
“Hmm. It matters not, for I wish to speak of what flows between. In the language of the fae, what flows around the smallest particles of matter translates into something like ‘life force,’ or ‘life essence,’ and that is what you must seek.” The orb in her hand cast a silvery light into the domed cavern of earth and stone. “I fear it doesn’t translate well at all in terms you might understand. Nothing in the universe is still or empty, and the friction from that constant movement creates energy that can be harnessed.”
No matter how hard she thought about atoms moving and what might be between them, nothing appeared in her palm. “By you—not me.”
“You can reach for it as well,” Boann chided. “Stop talking, and allow yourself to—ah, how to explain? You must be an observer, separate from your thinking self, with nothing on your mind except the essence of light and life.”
“Trancelike?”
“Exactly. In that state, you can draw the energy and bend it to your will.”
“You said we didn’t have time for a magic lesson. Shouldn’t we be finding your uncle?” Or rescuing Fáelán from an eternity of hell? Her stomach lurched at the thought of how he must be suffering right now.
“Aye, but we are about to enter my grandsire’s kingdom, and I cannot take the journey with you to the end. I don’t want to leave you without your having at least the means to illuminate your way.”
“All right.” She drew in a long breath and adjusted her posture. “I’m guessing the state of being is like meditation?”
“Aye.”
Regan stared at her palm, centered herself and stilled her thoughts. Stepping back from her conscious mind, she became an observer. Engulfed within the thrum and pulse of Tara, her heartbeat synched with the hill’s rhythm, and the essence of life Boann spoke of not only surrounded her but flowed through her. Or had it always been there, and she just now became aware of it? Regan’s breathing slowed, and she merged with the flow of energy. Come to me.
She pictured the smallest particles of matter in a river of something she had no name for. She imagined the tiny bits vibrating and colliding, generating energy. She focused on the space above her palm and willed the light to her. A tiny spark appeared and hovered above her hand. “I did it!” The spark disappeared. “Almost.”
Boann laughed. “Did I not tell you? You lost your concentration in your excitement, but at least now you know how it’s done. Even in the worst places, you can draw forth light and warmth to you. Doing so will come easier with practice.”
The faerie drew a rune in the air, and a door-size portion of the cavern wall shimmered. “Follow me.” She stepped through and disappeared.
Fear of being left alone under tons and tons of earth propelled her forward, and Regan followed. Passing through the shimmer was no different than walking through an open door, and she found herself in a sunlit meadow with soft grass beneath her feet. A variety of colorful wildflowers waved in a soft summer breeze, and the air held a sweetness and purity unlike anything she’d ever encountered anywhere. The sky was a pale shade of blue with wisps of pink and gray clouds streaking the horizon. Awestruck, she gazed around her.
Boann beckoned to her from a path leading up the hill. “Come, my uncle’s keep is just beyond this rise.”
Regan hurried to catch up. “I thought this was the void. It’s so beautiful here, and peaceful. Is all of your world like this?”
“More or less.”
“It’s not at all like I imagined the void would be.”
“Mmm. ’Tis not so very different from the earthly realm, aye? You have continents surrounded by vast oceans. We have continents surrounded by mist.”
“I guess. Fáelán told me the Tuatha Dé Danann project magic onto the void to create whatever environment you want, while ours just exists the way it is with or without us. Is that true?”
“’Tis complicated. We have our own society, culture and a ruling hierarchy. We are monarchal, and our world is made up of several kingdoms, with a high king over all. Though those of the aristocracy may create whatever homes they wish, our world is created by the consensus of our monarchs and a council of aristocracy.”
She stopped and turned to Regan. “There are certain protocols you must follow in dealing with my uncle. Mananán is a master illusionist and a trickster. He’s very powerful. You must not look directly into his eyes, even though he might command you to do so.”
“All right. I won’t look him in the eyes.” Her heart pounded. It was easy to think of Boann as half human, but Regan was about to come face-to-face with a completely nonhuman demigod, who might not welcome her presence. “What would happen if I did look him in the eyes?”
“He would enchant you, and you would be powerless to refuse any request he might make. Trust me in this, should you come under my uncle’s thrall, he will make the most outrageous requests. Be respectful and humble, but never forget who and what he is, a direct descendent of the goddess Danu.”
“Thank you for the warning.”
“Do not look into his eyes, Regan.” She started up the hill again.
“I won’t.” She frowned. “Can I look at his feet?”
“Best keep your eyes upon your own.”
“Can you look at him?”
“Of course. He’s my uncle. Because of our blood tie, he cannot enchant me. For our kind, to transgress the bonds of kinship in that manner would be a punishable offense, even for a prince.”
They reached the top of the hill, and Regan surveyed the valley below. A pastoral green meadow dotted with grazing sheep and cattle surrounded a medieval-style castle with a village spread along the outer wall. Beyond the village, fields had been planted with ordinary crops, and grapevines covered a terraced hill. Her gaze returned to the castle, which had turrets, ramparts, a moat and a drawbridge leading to a barbican and an outer bailey. “Your uncle farms and raises sheep?”
Boann flashed her a wry look. “Aye, and beeves, chickens and pigs. We have all manner of animals within our realm, including horses and game animals. We love to hunt. Our world is as real as yours, Regan. Do humans not shape the environment to their will? You humans build dams, blast through mountains to make roads. You too change the landscape and the environment through your actions and your will. Is this not so?”
“I suppose it is.” She frowned, thinking about the ways in which humankind impacted and altered their world. “But . . . Fáelán said he was the only living thing on his island, and there weren’t any fish in the lake.”
“’Twas all I could do to give him back the illusion of the island, and I didn’t push any further than I dared.” Boann began walking toward the castle. “I shall stretch the truth a bit whilst pleading for Mananán’s help. Pay no heed.”
Her nerves taut, Regan nodded and followed Boann to the drawbridge. She hadn’t known what to expect when it came to fae dwellings, but she never would have guessed a fae prince would live as a medieval lord. Flowing waterfalls, moss-covered knolls and open airy pavilions maybe, but a castle, village and farming? She shook her head.
They crossed the drawbridge and entered an outer bailey teeming with activity. People dressed in medieval peasant garb went about their business in the midst of a marketplace of open booths and wagons. The ground was covered in cobblestones, with the occasional evidence of horses having passed through. Again, not what she’d imagined for magical demigods. She took it all in, the smells of roasting meat, fresh bread being baked, the wares being offered and the faeries, who were all impossibly beautiful, pale and blue-eyed.
The crowd bowed and parted to make way for Boann to pass, some offering respectful greetings. Regan garnered a few curious looks but no alarm. “No one seems too surprised or concerned about my presence.”
“All sensed your entry into Summerland, which is what we call our world. None have any reason for concern. We are the Tuatha Dé Danann.” She glanced at Regan, her expression radiating superiority. “You pose no threat.”
Regan’s gut twisted, and despite the illusion of ordinary life all around her, her complete powerlessness and vulnerability among the fae hit home. They continued on through the nearly deserted inner baily. The door to the castle opened at their approach, and Regan lowered her gaze to the ground in front of her.
“’Tis only a servant,” Boann assured her, taking her by the arm.
“I’m not taking any chances.” She had her Fiann to rescue. She wasn’t about to become ensnarled in any faerie’s spell, even if he was a prince. They passed through the threshold, and Regan studied the wood plank floor beneath her feet.
“My dear Boann, how gracious of you to visit.” A man’s voice filled the entire hall. “I see you’ve brought a sweet morsel for my enjoyment. Is she meant as a gift?”
His voice held the timbre of deep seductive enchantment. Regan fought against the lure of being drawn in.
“Nay, Uncle. She is my sire’s mate. Regan’s plea for help reached me through the astral plane. I would not have involved myself but for the blood tie binding me to the babe she carries.” Boann crossed the hall, drawing Regan with her. “A grave wrong has been committed against this woman and the innocent soul she bears. I have brought her to you, because I know you are her best hope for help.”
“Ah, yes. Quite fecund, and delightful to the beholder.” Mananán circled Regan, and his perusal moved over her in a very physical way, as if he touched her skin . . . only not with his hands but with his senses. “You’ve a beautiful aura about you, my lovely.”
He stood in front of her now, and Regan’s heart thumped wildly. Desperate to put some distance between her and the impact of Mananán’s nearness, she closed her eyes and stood her ground. Wave after wave of his unmistakable sexual desire lapped over and through her. He took her hand, and an electric tingle arced through every single nerve in her body.
“Welcome to my home, Regan. Ah . . . I sense you carry a trace of fae blood.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, lingering over the act.
She nearly came from the contact, and her entire being recoiled at the unwanted sensations. “I do, yes.” She bowed her head and slipped her hand free, relieved when he didn’t insist on keeping it in his grip.
Mananán chuckled softly. “Let us sit, and you can tell me all about the wrong that has befallen you. Perhaps I can be persuaded to offer my help.”
“We would be grateful of any aid or advice you might offer, Uncle Mananán.” Boann once again took Regan’s arm, squeezing it for an instant.
“Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” she murmured, hoping she’d addressed him correctly. Boann led her to a thronelike carved wooden chair, one of a grouping of four set before a hearth fire burning cheerfully away with no logs or fuel of any kind. At least the dancing flames gave her somewhere safe to look. Regan sank into the chair, careful to keep her gaze off the prince, fighting against the compulsion to peek. He had to be devastatingly gorgeous.
What harm can come from looking? Gaze into my eyes, my lovely, and I shall grant you pleasure beyond imagining. His voice whispered through her mind.
Regan shook her head, and continued to focus upon the flames. Did creating fire like this happen the same way Boann taught her to draw light and heat from the essence flowing between particles of matter? If so, how did the fae keep it going so effortlessly?
Mananán grunted. “You are strong for one of your kind, and I do so enjoy strong females of your species,” he purred. “Tell me of your plight.”
Regan dug in her mental heels, resisting the sexual pull Mananán exerted over her, and launched into Fáelán’s story from the beginning of his encounter with Morrigan to his present imprisonment. “When Fáelán met Morrigan’s conditions for breaking the curse, when he gave me his heart completely, your sister stole him from me. Morrigan broke her word, and now I am without my mate, and my child will be without a father.” Her heart thudded painfully. She, Fáelán and their little one might never have the chance to be a family, and all because of one selfish, vindictive faerie. The unfairness of it all staggered her.
“It does sound like something my sister would do,” Mananán said with another enchantment-infused laugh.
“Mother reneged on her vow to my sire, thereby breaking the covenant the wizard Amergin formed between the Tuatha Dé Danann and mortals,” Boann added.
“Think you to lecture me on the covenant formed long before your birth?” Mananán asked, his tone mocking. “What has any of this to do with me?”
Good question. Why would he help? Regan glanced at Boann, hoping like hell her arsenal of faerie magic included the power of persuasion.
“Morrigan’s breach gives Regan the right to bring her complaint to our king. She wishes for an audience at King Lir’s court, but she lacks the means to get there. I am your blood kin, and her mate is my sire. On their behalf, I am asking you to grant Regan passage on Ocean Sweeper, and—”
“You wish me to lend my boat to send this . . . this human to Father’s court?”
“Aye, and do not forget, she carries fae blood.”
“But a trace. My dear niece, our kinship aside, what do I stand to gain?”
Once again, the prince’s gaze, a physical, covetous pressure, centered upon Regan. She gritted her teeth and did her best to repel the seductive force. A new appreciation and understanding dawned for what Fáelán had endured with Morrigan. Please let there be a future for me and Fáelán, and I’ll apologize for doubting him every day for the rest of my life. She placed her hand protectively over her womb.
“I ask it as a personal favor, Uncle. It grieves me to think of my sire being tortured for all eternity. He has committed no wrong against Morrigan, and her treatment toward him is a cruel injustice.”
“Hmph.”
Silence stretched on for several moments, and Regan’s hopes plummeted. “Please,” she whispered.
“Perhaps we can come to an agreement. It has been too long since I took a mortal to my bed. Stay with me for a fortnight . . . nay, a month, and I shall escort you to King Lir’s court myself and aid you in pleading your case.”
“Uncle . . .”
Tears welled, and the more Regan thought about how these creatures had dealt with Fáelán, and the way this prince behaved toward her, the hotter her indignation burned. Mananán’s seductive magic lost some of its power over her. “Look.” She gripped the armrests of the chair. “I’m begging for your help. Morrigan has committed a crime. No argument there. You’re a prince among your people. Aren’t you honor bound to . . . to uphold the law? With all due respect, Your Highness, your suggestion is not only insulting, but it’s another wrong heaped on top of the first. I won’t stay with you, or . . . or—”
“Then I have no help to offer.” His tone no longer held any trace of the seductiveness from before. “I doubt Father would be the least bit interested in one puny human caught in my sister’s sticky web. Morrigan has managed to keep her pet a secret all these centuries, and—”
“And though I have pleaded with you repeatedly, you have done naught to ameliorate my sire’s suffering. Or mine.” Boann’s voice took on a determined edge. “As I have oft said, my mother has denied me contact with my sire, and it grieves me deeply. Breaking her vow to Fáelán is not Mother’s only unlawful transgression. She gave a mortal the Elixir of Life without his knowledge and without the sanction of the royal council.”
“Again, none of this has aught to do with me.”
“Except you knew of it and did naught to dissuade her. ’Twould pain me to cause strife between us, but if you will not grant Regan some sort of aid, so be it. Now that Fáelán has met the conditions for his freedom, I will find a way around our kinship bond to bring this to Lir’s attention myself. Your complicity will not be looked upon favorably by our council or by our king. In fact, I shall see that Regan’s case reaches our high king’s court. ’Tis certain Dagda Mór will be displeased to say the least. Perhaps he’ll banish you and Morrigan from Summerland for a century or two.”
Boann rose from her chair and moved to stand before her uncle. “As our covenant decrees, Morrigan provided my sire with a way to free himself from the curse. Fáelán met the conditions to be released from the curse, and Mother reneged. ’Tis a case without defense, and a situation you have had knowledge of since its inception.”
“Hmm.”
Regan held her breath as another long silence stretched between the three of them.
“’Tis best that I not be involved at all—”
“Uncle . . .”
“However, there is a way in which all interests might be served without involving Dagda Mór, Lir or myself.”
“What do you suggest?” Boann asked.
“What I’ve in mind would solve everything, including Morrigan’s unlawful use of the Elixir of Life. Send this woman back through time. Have her interfere with the Fiann before the curse can be cast, thereby righting the wrong before ever it occurred.”
“You can do that? Would you send me back to before he and Morrigan—”
“We cannot stop Morrigan from being with Fáelán. ’Tis strictly forbidden, but we can allow you to interfere with mortals such as my sire and Nóra. If you can keep Fáelán from his lover the night he was cursed, then—”
“But . . . but . . . Fáelán won’t know me,” Regan stammered. “If I manage to prevent the curse from happening, then he and I will never have met, and . . . he won’t . . . We won’t have . . .” He wouldn’t know her at all, much less love her. She’d no longer carry their baby.
Her heart breaking, she wrapped her arms around her midriff. “Fáelán and I won’t be able to communicate well enough for me to convince him. I’m sure ancient Irish is much different from the modern-day version. Why would he listen to a complete stranger, even if he could understand what I was saying?”
“Your understanding into the workings of time and the universe is astonishing in its paucity,” Mananán said, his voice dripping with derision. “I find I no longer have any desire for you at all.”
Fine by her. Regan’s gaze flew to Boann. “What does he mean?”
“It means he’s not going to try to seduce you into his bed anymore.”
“Thank you, Boann. I got that. I meant the paucity of understanding part.”
A corner of Boann’s mouth turned up for the briefest moment. “Time is not linear, nor does it move in only one direction. Between past and present . . . there is no difference. Fáelán’s existence in your perception of the present, his time with you, none of it can be erased whether you prevent him from being cursed or not.”
“I don’t understand.”
“’Tis far too complex to explain at present. But before now, you believed in only one world, aye?” Boann arched a brow. “Yet you now stand in an altogether different reality, and there are so many more. You must simply accept what I say for now, and mayhap in the future we might have the chance to discuss this further.”
“I’ll try.” Many more worlds? Different realities? How was any of this possible, including time travel, and yet here she was, considering going back through time. But then, she hadn’t believed anything Fáelán had told her either, and look how that had turned out. “So, he might know me if I go to him?”
“That, I cannot say.” Boann shook her head. “’Tis possible he’ll recognize you on some subconscious level, and ’tis possible he’ll understand your words whilst not knowing why.”
“I’ll keep my baby?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“You will.” Boann crossed the room and reached for Regan’s hand. “Of that I am certain. Fáelán will be confused, and he will very likely be defensive and fearful. You must prepare yourself.”
She nodded. Fáelán had been willing to sacrifice his freedom for her. The least she could do was try to undo Morrigan’s curse for him. “Will I be able to return? Can I bring him with me to the twenty-first century?”
“As to the first, aye.” Boann squeezed Regan’s hand and let it go. “As to the latter, that will be up to him.”
Could she convince Fáelán to listen? She’d do her damnedest, and she had the pictures on her phone to help him remember. “You can place me where I need to be, exactly when I need to be there?”
“I can, for I have oft watched that night unfold through scrying.” Boann’s expression clouded. “I sought a way to change my sire’s fate, you see, but until Fáelán gave his heart, there was naught I could do.”
“All right. If traveling back through time is the only way I can help him, then I’m willing.” Regan straightened. “Let’s go.”
“Uncle, may I show her—”
“Do what you must. I’ve business to attend to.” He rose abruptly. “You will both sup with me before you depart.”
“Of course. Thank you for your hospitality,” Boann said. “Come, Regan. We must form a plan, and to do that, you must see the events of that night.”
Boann motioned to a woman hovering in a doorway. Speaking in what must be the language of the fae, she gave the servant instructions. Then Boann led Regan upstairs to an alcove on the second floor of the castle. In the center of the space stood a pedestal of marble, and a silver bowl covered in gold-chased runes etched on the outer surface sat on top. The bowl held clear water. Boann stirred the liquid with a finger and said something in her native language. “Let us watch together.”
Her throat tightening, Regan stepped closer and peered inside. Images emerged, and the night of Fáelán’s curse and Nóra’s murder unfolded before her like a silent movie. She closed her eyes during the lovemaking part, unreasonable jealousy burning through her. By the time they reached the end, tears streaked down her face. “Isn’t it a crime for a faerie to commit murder?”
“Aye, and let us hope you are successful, for ’twill be two lives you save that night. Watch again, and this time, pay attention to every detail of the landscape. We will choose a safe place where I might leave you, and where you will find the way back.”
“All right, but is there a way to skip the part where Fáelán and Nóra make love? Even though they’re under the furs, and you can’t see anything, it really . . . It’s difficult for me to get past the feeling he’s betraying me. Which makes no sense, I know, but—”
“Of course. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.”
They went through the scene six more times before they’d worked everything out, including the sun’s location on the western horizon. Regan needed to be able to judge the time when Morrigan would appear, so she could meet Fáelán on the path before he reached Nóra’s cottage.
“’Tis time for us to rejoin my uncle. You did well with him, Regan.” Boann walked out of the alcove. “He respects you for resisting, believe me.”
“He still scares me.”
“’Tis wise to remain so, for he is unpredictable.”
Delicious smells wafted up the stairwell, and Regan’s mouth watered. The woman from earlier met them halfway up the stairs, a bundle of clothing in her arms. “For you, my lady,” she said, handing Regan the bundle. “Safe journey.” She bowed slightly and turned back down the steps to disappear around a corner.
“Do you suppose she overheard the conversation we had with your uncle?”
“Without a doubt.” Boann nodded. “And by now the tale will have reached everyone, and it is rippling through the astral plane on its way to the keepers of our laws and to our kings. It is the way of our people and will only aid you in your quest.”
She and Boann joined Mananán in the great hall, where he already sat at the head of a table set upon a dais. Regan held the garments close to her chest and kept her gaze on her own feet.
“Come. Sit. You are welcome at my board,” Mananán beckoned. “You’ve naught to fear from me, Regan. No harm will come to you should you deign to look upon me.” His tone held none of the seductiveness from before.
Regan glanced at Boann.
“Aye, he means you no harm.” She gestured toward a chair. “You may relax.”
She gave in to the urge and met the fae prince’s amused gaze. He was indeed gorgeous and extremely masculine. Still, he didn’t appeal to her nearly as much as Fáelán did. She lifted her chin and smiled. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Highness,” she said, attempting a curtsy. “And thank you for not attempting to enthrall me anymore.”
His glacier-blue eyes held warmth as he gazed back. “Don’t think I am not sympathetic to your cause.” He gestured toward the chairs. “Despite what my niece believes, I have had words with my sister about your Fiann. Oft I have pushed her to find another human lover, and perhaps to have another child. ’Twould rid her of her obsession with your mate.” He sighed. “But she refused to heed my advice, and would not let him go.”
“That I can understand. I’m not willing to give him up either.” Placing the clothing on an empty chair, Regan took a seat, and a woman appeared at her side with a pitcher of wine. She put her hand over the goblet set before her place. “I don’t think I should drink anything other than water.”
“Uncle, I’ve had another thought.”
“One that will prevail upon my generosity, I trow.”
Regan watched as silent, beautiful fae servants placed plates in front of them and filled their goblets. Hers now held water. She took a drink and eyed the meal, roast beef with potatoes and vegetables. Her stomach rumbled.
“All of the Fianna will know of your magic swords, will they not?” Boann asked. “My sire will have heard the legends and seen the illustrations Fionn has in his possession?”
“I suppose.” Mananán paused in cutting his beef. “Why?”
“’Twould help Regan convince my sire of the truth if she carried Little Fury, or perhaps The Retaliator. ’Twould be a ward against Mother as well.”
He frowned, looking from her to Boann. “Will you give your personal guarantee of its return, Boann?”
“I will.”
“The Retaliator, then. ’Tis far more impressive in appearance than Little Fury, and none can mistake the Tuatha runes etched upon the hilt. The Retaliator is fae forged, Regan, and you’ll find it is not nearly so long or heavy as those of human origin of that era.”
“I’m grateful for anything either of you believe will help.” She dug into her meal, her mind spinning. Here she sat at a table, eating roast beef and potatoes while sitting beside a Tuatha Dé Danann prince and Fáelán’s half-fae daughter. If everything went well, she might become Boann’s stepmother. She glanced at the princess, wondering how she might take having a puny mortal for a stepmother.
If things turned out as she hoped. Given the time period, and his lack of memory of the future, Fáelán would likely see her as a threat. After all, he was a product of third-century thinking. She’d make him listen, dammit, and hopefully the pictures on her cell phone would loosen bits of memory from deep within his subconscious. “I’m going to need cord or rope,” she said between mouthfuls.
“Whatever for?” Boann’s eyes widened in question.
“You said Fáelán is likely to be defensive and afraid,” she said with a shrug. “If he refuses to hear what I have to tell him, I’m going to knock him out with my stun gun and tie him up. When he comes to, I’ll sit on his chest and force him to listen.”
Mananán threw his head back and guffawed, and the sound bounced off the walls. “Ah, I am reminded why I desire mortal women. You humans are so very . . . unexpected. Unpredictable.” He chuckled again. “I can see why Morrigan’s pet lost his heart to you.”
“He’s not the only one who lost his heart.” Memories of the morning they’d met flooded her mind. He was so funny, self-assured, sharp. She’d believed they were together only because she could see him. Now she knew better. They were meant to be.
The back of her throat got that pre-tears tightness. Even if he didn’t return with her, she’d make sure he got to live his life fully, and she’d have their child. Her insides fluttered at the thought. Would she have a girl or a boy? Would their baby have their daddy’s freckles? She hoped so, because she loved every single one of Fáelán’s. At least she’d have their child to give her comfort in the future.