As I laid in my bed catching my breath, something bubbled in my chest. A foreign set of emotions swung me from panic to relief to tentative excitement. My nerves had raced in the midst of the spell. Maya must have unconsciously projected those feelings because of the connection I’d established.
After Maya departed, I pushed her influence away and ignored it the best I could as I recovered. Enough time had passed since she left that I could perform a simple scry. I took the small bronze mirror Aunt Brigid had given me from among my pillows—either I stored it there or in my belt pouch. Trickling power into it took longer than it should, but the glow around the frame pulsed with white light.
My reflection rearranged into Uncle Aengus’ face. “Daire? Is something wrong?”
“Maya burst in here.” I rubbed my eyes, still groggy. “She raved something about Riona having an audience with Manannan at Uliad.”
“When?” His pupils grew round with interest.
“She prepares for it this very moment.”
“I see she’s making progress.” A rare frown marred his dimpled mouth. “I’ll be in touch with Ilbrec. If Manannan invited her, I can use that to provoke his son into bringing me as well. Is that all?”
“Yes.” Cold sweat broke out along my neck. “Now I’m going back to sleep.”
“Not likely,” Uncle Aengus said with subdued laughter.
“What do you mean?”
The mirror went back to showing my brass-tinted reflection.
I glared at it and tossed it among the pillows. Nothing would come between me and my well deserved nap as I waited for Maya’s summons to wake me.
My door opened. Father strode through. “Still abed at this hour? You’ve already wasted half the day. Your plants will scold you later.”
“What are you on about?” I turned to a more comfortable position and dragged my blankets over me. Mother used to check on me and say similar remarks about how my gardens suffered whenever I decided to sleep late. They shouldn’t come from the same man who’d forbidden me from visiting her.
“Finvarra and Una have extended an invitation.” Father came over and flung off my covers. “Dress yourself. They’re expecting us now.”
“How? Did you dangle Mother and me in front of them?” I couldn’t think of any other reason Finvarra, the king of Connacht, would entertain one of the Dagda’s Brood. While he was a distant cousin, he’d been jealous of my my family ever since Bodb Derg had beaten him in the last election for High King. Finvarra also had a notorious taste for human women. His queen, Una, wasn’t much better, only she preferred much younger suitors. The two had given Mother, the last human in Tir Na Nog, and me, the youngest of the Aos Si, plenty of overtures over the centuries.
“Mentioning that the two of you were coming helped. That does not mean I bribed them with promises of spending even a night with either of you. Don’t risk succumbing to Una’s charms, either, or else she will never release you from her clutches.”
“Why not start with a friendlier province like Mumhan?”
“The point of this is to win the leaders most likely to vote for Riona, not those who are already behind us. Start with the hardest task and the rest will be easier for it.”
“By Danu, weeks of nothing and now both you and Riona choose to foil my sleep when I need it most.” I rubbed my burning eyes as I summoned my glamour. Nothing came. The scry to Aengus must have used what little power I’d recovered.
“Come, Little Layabout.” Father’s power thrummed over me as he passed his hand over my body. The familiar feel of glamoured fabric clinging to me materialized soon after. I patted my hair. My style of inter-woven braids and ivy vines was there and ready. His magic hovering over me rather than my own had an alien weight to it, like I’d been dipped in melted wax. “Brigid and Etain are also waiting for us in the archives. Etain seemed in brighter spirits today. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”
I glared up at him. What game was he playing? Brigid had said his scheming ways were coming back. His thorough arguments at the meeting proved he’d premeditated this family trip. He had to have more motivation than campaigning.
“I’ve been gentle, Daire, but my patience grows thin with your procrastinating.” Father crossed his arms and frowned at me. There was the man I knew and loathed. “This is an order, not a request. You’re coming.”
There was no use fighting him as weak as I was. I rolled off the side of the bed and alighted to my feet with a mocking bow toward the head of my household. “Yes m’lord.”
* * *
I tucked my small mirror away in my belt pouch with plans to make the second one for Maya during our stay in Connacht. Finvarra invited us to spend a week with them, and Father reserved the largest guest room.
I had heard that Connacht was a land after Finvarra’s own heart, fit for such a devout horseman and racer. Those rumors proved true as the three of us walked out from the mirror set outside the walls of his fortress. Hilly fields with long, abundant grass stretched out before us. Herds of horses grazed and galloped across the horizon. Finvarra’s plentiful livestock were supposedly all preserved animals from the mortal realm. No other province in Tir Na Nog could claim that, using glamour constructs instead.
His fortress at Cruachan, Connacht’s capital, was an open topped fort with round stone walls and a high gate at the top of a mound. The house at the center rose above the rest, a massive marvel of thatch and wood with carvings of intricate horses.
Una’s prized calves and lambs roamed free inside the fort like stray dogs. They butted their heads against our hands as we passed, nibbling for treats.
Father conjured oat grains and passed them to Mother. Mother bent and fed the young animals as she rubbed their necks. So far, she seemed composed. But small signs showed her true feelings, like the polite distance she held from Father and me as we went and her stiff posture as she walked.
Father held the oats to me next. I took them and offered some between my fingers to an eager calf at my heel. It nibbled down on my fingertips instead. I pulled my hand away.
“It’s a pity you couldn’t grow up among my stables when they were full. Then you might have learned to do this properly.” Father held his hand flat with his thumb tucked in. “Like this.”
My cheeks grew hot as I copied him. The calf’s saliva coated my palm as it licked up the treat, but my fingers went unscathed. Soon a lamb came to join the calf and I had my own crowd gathering.
“No more.” I showed them my empty hands. “I have run out.”
“Why don’t you conjure some?” Father asked, his brows coming together.
The truth? I had to conserve my power for when Maya fell asleep next. I turned my nose up at the small creatures. “I have given them enough. They should be satisfied.”
“Babies are never satisfied,” Mother added. “They want and they want, even after you are spent. You were the same way. It’s when you’d grown that you started to repay me and allowed me rest.”
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A regiment of five guards greeted us at the doors of the house. Each had a spear, a sword, and Ogham enchantments all over their leather armor. They escorted us inside the main hall. Its pine walls were affixed together with bronze joints and long tables filled the interior. Finvarra had laid out a feast of roasted beef and hearty stew. At the moment, a company of Connacht’s subjects enjoyed the lavish meal. Connacht had a wide influence with the lower nobles of Tir Na Nog by inviting them to such events.
At the head of the room, Finvarra and Una sat in wooden thrones atop a curtained dais. Finvarra seemed at leisure with a shadow of eternal russet stubble upon his chin and his unadorned farmer’s apparel hanging loose. Una, by contrast, dressed to the height of finery with her mahogany hair in an intricate plait and her tan gown decorated with various pearl accents.
“Lord Midir of Bri Leith!” Finvarra spotted us first as we came through the doors. “It has been too long since you graced my hall, cousin.”
“And a distant cousin at that,” Father muttered under his breath as he offered a polite smile. “It has been some time. Let us ready our quarters. Then we shall join you later for dinner.”
“Yes, a private gathering.” Finvarra nodded his assent before his jovial voice boomed across the entire hall. “Tomorrow we’ll have to pry him into gracing the rest of Connacht with his presence so we may start the games in his honor, aye?”
Mugs pounded against the tables as the room shouted back with a resounding, “Aye!”
Una’s attention fell on me, and she offered a suggestive wink. Her power crawled over my skin, slipping under my clothes in a way that said far more than words could. I retreated closer to Father, putting him between me and the queen’s attentions. Typically older Aos Si would track me down at feasts and ploy me with conversation until one of us made an offer to share the other’s bed. I had only let Una close enough to try that once. She cornered me against a standing stone and stole a forceful kiss I had not invited from her. From then on, she occasionally gave me “accidental” touches to my backside or a more private area. She put a stop to it when I confessed the treatment to Mother, and Father intervened.
Mother jolted away as I neared her. Her rigid facade cracked as she buried her nails in the skirt of her gown. The fabric tore at its seams with how hard she pulled.
I stepped away and fisted my hands at my sides. Things had changed in my absence from her life. I had to learn to respect her moods, even if that meant neglecting my own comfort.
“Have your men escort us to our room, and we shall be on our way.” Father’s power pulsed out from him and surrounded Mother and I. It cut off Una’s prying magic.
“The offer still stands for young Daire to have a room of his own,” Una said, her sweet voice grating against my nerves.
“Better yet, allow the lad to share a space with Lady Etain while we carry out our business.” Finvarra gave Father a deep bow as any gracious host would. “I will ensure their protection personally.”
Father’s jaw went tight. He rubbed the pommel of his sword.
“M’Lord is more than capable of watching over his family, though your offers are still appreciated.” Mother set a placating hand on Father’s arm and the tension in it relaxed a mite. Her attention flitted between the many faces filling the room. She trembled as she spoke, even though her voice stayed even. “Escort us, please. Or must we find and prepare the room ourselves?”
“Danu forbid the very thought.” Finvarra snapped his fingers. “Brona!”
A lady guard with a hound stamped across her armor marched before us.
“See to my guests. Then join your fellows at the feast, eh?” Finvarra waved toward a table and it lengthened to make another couple seats. An already made plate appeared on it.
Brona beamed and offered Father a courteous bow. She led us to an archway, then deeper into the hall. I opened my senses as we went, trying to feel for where the Cauldron might be. Nothing but occupied guest rooms. I would do a more thorough search later in our stay. For the moment, I had the Spear to focus on.
* * *
The solitary bed and gray walls of our room stayed blank and unadorned as we entered, keeping the tradition for guest rooms in Tir Na Nog. Customization was the best allowance a host could make in light of the infinite possibilities of glamour magic. Father waved his hand. His stony magic spread over the mundane lodgings.
The walls turned from gray stone to rich pine with spiraling scenes carved into them, and the room’s corners stayed intact. He altered the bed into an ancient canopy style with a bronze frame, a feather mattress, and rich furs. A couple small cots with thinner mattresses were set in a far corner. The stone hearth moved to the center of the room and the thatched roof caught the worst of its smoke. It had a primitive comfort, and reminded me of the royal bedchamber Mother had described from when she resided in the human world.
Mother wore a pensive frown, keeping near the door frame as if she meant to run. She shuddered and held herself tight. It seemed her rigid control slipped when in the private company of her husband and son, not that she had acknowledged us.
“Does this suit you?” Father asked, gesturing to the whole of the room.
“It is a cruel joke you play on me.” Mother spat toward the floor. “These reminders of my home are naught but illusions of the bedchamber I and my proper husband shared.”
Father’s right eye twitched out of place and his mouth became taut. “Then what would please you better m’lady?”
“You already know that answer,” Mother said.
“That’s why we have made this agreement, isn’t it?”
Mother bit down on her lip and sagged back. She held her forehead as if a dizzy spell had overtaken her and she was going to faint at any moment.
Father and I both rushed to her side. He reached her first and caught her up in his arms. “Rest for a moment, dear heart. I know today has been trying on you.”
“It has on all of us,” I said as I rubbed my eyes, which still burned from exhaustion.
Mother reached for Father’s sword and yanked it from its sheath. Her shoulder twitched as she thrust it at him.
Father jumped back. His power flowed into the blade. The sword’s energy shifted and it thunked to the floor.
Mother tugged at the hilt, but it seemed too heavy for her to lift.
“Etain, that’s enough.” Father went to approach her again.
Mother rushed away to the hearth, toward that conjured fire.
Father closed his hand into a fist. The warm light snuffed out, leaving nothing but a subtle glow floating about the room.
Mother grabbed a poker sticking from the hearth and thrust it at her stomach before Father could foil her. She stopped right before breaking her skin. No matter what we tried, there was a chance she would impale herself on it before we got to her.
Father slipped back, holding his empty palms to her. The first sign of terror froze his expression. He dared not even speak.
“Mamai,” I said, my voice a shaking whisper. “Please, move away from the poker and let us talk about this. You always liked talking more than bloodshed, didn’t you?”
“Stay out of this, guard.” Mother shoved the point further against her stomach. “This is between me and your master.”
“P-perhaps I deserved that.” My chest throbbed anew. She hadn’t even acknowledged me as someone she knew, but a stranger meant to hold her. “I know I haven’t been to see you in weeks, and I haven’t tried to defy Father like I should have. Please try to remember. There were our walks in the gardens. I led you through a maze of corridors and made you a promise.”
“What nonsense do you speak of?” Mother gave me a quizzical scowl. Recognition dawned in her face as she loosened her grip on her weapon. “Wait. Daire?”
Father’s power crept across the floor toward Mother. He must have sent a spell to apprehend her while I had her attention. If he sprung his trap, then her fragile faith in me might break.
“Who else?” I risked walking closer. “You wouldn’t forget your only son forever, would you?”
“But you disappeared. He took you away.” Mother shook her head and a muscle in her jaw jumped. “No, you’re trying to distract me. Subdue me.”
“I’m trying to help you.” I moved in the way of Father’s spell. It would have to go around me to reach her. I stretched out my hand for the poker. “Things will be different. I’ll be here. Trust me, Mamai.”
I had said those same words to Mother back at Tara when trying to save Riona from Bodb’s dungeons. Something had broken through to her then. I could only hope that it broke through to her now. We may not be able to have our long walks and conversations anymore, but her heart had to know me still.
Mother gave me the poker with trembling fingers.
Father’s power paused on its way behind her.
“Thank you.” I took the improvised weapon away. “Father, you can withdraw your spell.”
The power fled to its wielder. Father snatched the poker from me and flung it out of reach. “Etain, please promise me you won’t use anymore weapons against yourself. Not until you’ve fulfilled your end of our bargain.”
“Not until I’ve negotiated your throne for you, you mean.” Mother sauntered to the bed and held her head higher than before. She seemed herself again. “If you had any mercy, you would have let me go far sooner, Midir.”
“You shouldn’t speak that way, not in front of your son,” Father replied.
“Very well. We’ll continue this discussion later if I am still thinking clearly.” Mother glanced to me, and her stern countenance softened. She waved me forward, opening her arms. “Come here, little swan.”
I went to her, slow and uncertain. If I were to ask for her trust, I should trust her in return, shouldn’t I?
“I hurt you.” Mother wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I can’t promise I won’t try again. I will always regret it, though.”
“I know.” I swallowed as I embraced her back. “I never should have let him keep me away. I should have been there for you.”
“You did as any good son would.” Mother’s nails dug into my back. “If he had never forgotten himself, then you would have not needed to defy him.”
Father kept his distance during our talk, watching on with a familiar stoic facade. He should know how he had driven off his family all those years. Inside, I hoped he felt remorse for helping condemn me to death before I had a chance to live. My mission remained the same: free myself from this curse and escape with my mother. Whatever happened to Father was no longer my concern.