Faerie Fate (5 page)

Niall groaned, loath
to follow that order, yet hesitant not to. He loved Ciaran as a son. His pain
was every bit as great as the girl’s, and he could stand neither’s suffering
much longer. “How can this be?” he asked his wife, praying she knew of a way to
free them all.

“I’ve not got the
knowin’ of it,” Siobhan admitted sadly. “That they are tied together is
obvious, yet Ciaran has never sworn the binding. I have never witnessed such,
Niall. Mayhaps Odhran will know,” she prayed.

Ciaran sank to his
knees, his head falling forward until his chin rested against his chest. “By
all the gods, Niall, kill her before she kills me.” His whispered plea sounded
like a death rattle.

Siobhan dropped the
bowl she’d been holding and hurried to a small table near the fire. Boxes and
jars littered the top of it. She took a cup, added a bit from one vial, and a
pinch of another. Finally, she poured wine into the cup and stirred the
mixture, murmuring softly. She carried the full cup back to the bed.

“Lay her head back,
Niall, so she can drink.”

He looked up at her
in shock. “You think to poison her? Why not let me plunge my knife cleanly into
her heart and be done with it?”

“
’
Tis but a
sleeping draught, husband.
’
Twill put her beyond the pain.” She nodded
toward Ciaran and added, “He will follow.” She tipped the liquid into Becca’s
mouth and stroked her throat so the girl would swallow. Within a few moments,
Niall felt her body relax. Her breathing deepened, filling her starved lungs
with oxygen. He shifted so he could lay her back on the bed. Siobhan pulled the
covers over her as her husband hurried to Ciaran’s side.

“She’s a witch,
Niall. We must kill her,” Ciaran panted.

“Nay, lad, we
can’t,” he protested. “I believe that what befalls her will befall you. The
O’Neills grow ever more hungry for our land, and I fear what will happen if you
are not here to lead us.” When Ciaran nodded weakly, Niall stood and helped the
bigger man to his feet, grunting with the effort. “I’ll take him to another
chamber,” he told Siobhan over his shoulder.

“Nay. Put him in bed
beside her where I can watch over them. Then ride yee to Odhran’s hut and bring
him here to me.” When he started to protest, she held up her hand in warning.
“This is beyond my knowin’, Niall, and I, too, fear for both of them. This is
the truest binding I have ever seen, one for all eternity. We must protect them
until the gods sort this out. Ride, husband, ride hard, and bring me Odhran.”

Niall helped Ciaran
around to the far side of the bed and eased him down. Ciaran groaned as he laid
back, and Niall lifted his feet up onto the bed. He stood uncertainly for a
moment, indecisive for one of the few times in his life.

“Go,” Siobhan
hissed.

Niall turned on his
heel and fled, banging the door closed behind him.

A knot of worried
men awaited him at the foot of the stairs. To a man, they’d seen the vision in
sky blue float down the stairs toward their
Taoiseac
. They’d seen the
great joy radiating from the MacDermot as he awaited this woman who was
obviously his chosen one. To a man, they saw the rage suddenly vanquish the joy
and the MacDermot turn and leave. Shocked, they watched the woman fall, Niall
too slow to catch her. They heard her screams, and they heard the answering
howls erupting from Ciaran’s den. Even the more educated among them were scared.

Niall could take
scarce time to allay their fears, so he motioned two of his lieutenants to
follow him to the stables. They had to jog to keep up with his long-legged dash
as he briefly filled them in on Ciaran’s condition, that of the woman, and his
own mission.

He rode hard and
fast, slowing only when the trail narrowed dangerously. The ride took far too
long for him to reach Siobhan’s cottage. He barely slowed as he guided his
horse onto the narrow trail on the other side of his mate’s herb garden. Half a
league into the forest, Niall found the small clearing and the old Druid’s hut.

“Odhran,” he
shouted, pulling his horse to a sliding stop before the door. “Come quickly.
An
Taoiseac
has need of you.”

The door to the hut
creaked opened and the tired, wrinkled face of the Druid stared out. “But I
have no need of him,” the old man snapped.

Niall was shocked
silent. His fist closed convulsively around the handle of his sword and pulled
it half way out of its scabbard. Through clinched teeth, he snarled, “Your very
life has need of him, Odhran. If he dies, I will personally run my sword
through you.”

Odhran watched him
for a long moment, as if trying to read his thoughts. The man’s eyes flickered
then he dipped his chin in an almost imperceptible nod. “Aye,” he agreed.
“Ciaran is in need of aid though I may be a poor choice. Still, I will do what
I can.” He ducked back into his hut and emerged a few moments later with a worn
leather satchel looped across his shoulder. “Let us go.”

Niall clasped the
old man’s hand and swung him up behind him. Odhran felt frail beneath his robes
and he wondered just how ancient the old Druid actually was.

****

Ciaran dozed
lightly. The pain had finally left his head. Siobhan puttered around over by
the fire. He tracked her movements by the swish of her skirt as she mixed
potions and such. A soft puff of air tickled his ear. The woman next to him
sighed in her sleep. The pain had finally left her as well.

He gathered her into
his arms and settled her next to him, her head on his shoulder, her soft
breasts pressing into his side. The woman stirred, moving one leg over his.
Absently, he rubbed his chin on the top of her head, relishing the soft
silkiness of her hair as its strands caught in his beard stubble. A sense of
peace and contentment stole over him. This was the way life was meant to be, he
mused. He grew hard and smiled, reveling in the fact that he had. Though he
would never have admitted it even to Niall, he’d often wondered why other men
bedded women with abandon, but he’d never had the urge beyond the one time.
And, if that long ago cailín hadn’t taken the bull by the horns, so to speak,
he’d probably be a virgin to this day.

“
’
Tis no
shame in that,
Taoiseac
,” Siobhan said softly from where she sat on a
bench near the fire. She flashed him a knowing smile when he opened his eyes
only to glare at her. “Not all men need to be a bull with a herd of cows. Long
ago, Ciaran, before the gods even gave us the sacred fire, before the cauldron,
spear, sword, and stone, they gave every man a woman. Each man was to care for
and protect his own and if he did so, life would be good.” She cocked an
eyebrow and gave him a saucy grin. “If yee gather my meaning?”

Ciaran grinned back
knowing exactly what she meant. He nodded, wanting her to continue.

“Because this kind
of love was so deep and abiding, the gods knew that one lifetime would not be
enough. They promised as long as each man kept his covenant with his true mate,
even though the dark sleep of death might part them in this life, the two would
be reunited in the next.” Siobhan sighed. “Mortals being what they are, they
forgot what a wondrous gift true mating was. They got greedy and hungered for
others. They had no patience to await their one true love. This angered the
gods. They gathered all the mortals together then separated the men from the
women. Every god gathered a handful of each and tossed them to the four winds.
This went on until all the mortals had been scattered. If a man is lucky enough
to find his true mate, win her, and keep her, then the gods will keep their
covenant with that man. He will get to keep her for eternity, finding her again
in each life, to have and to hold.”

Ciaran studied her
for a long time. “What are you saying, Siobhan?” Almost afraid to hear what she’d
say next, he held his breath.

“Not a thing,
Ciaran.
’
Tis just an old tale, but I suspect you might be the rare man
who will recognize the truth in the telling of it.”

She’d called him by
his first name, rather than his title. He started to smile until he saw her
forehead wrinkle as she stared at the girl in his arms. That’s when he noticed
the beads of sweat dotting Becca’s forehead. Siobhan glided toward the bed
carrying two cups.

“Drink, Ciaran, then
help me dose Becca. I fear sleep is the only respite I can give the two of you
for now.”

He took the cup and
sniffed it suspiciously. Putting the rim to his mouth, he tossed down the
contents in one swallow. He handed the cup back to Siobhan. In one smooth
movement, he sat up, bringing Becca with him. He cradled her limp body to his
chest with one hand tenderly cupping her cheek and turned her face toward the
other woman.

She slowly poured
her potion down the girl’s throat, making sure she swallowed. Then Siobhan
turned her back to prevent him from seeing the smile curling her lips. Her
reflection in the shield hanging on the wall gave her away.

Relieved, he laid
back down, still cradling Becca. He settled her against his side. Her eyelids
barely flickered during the process, then she sighed and snuggled closer.
Ciaran closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her body molded to his.

He’d had a huge,
empty hole in his life, but had never been able to discern what was missing.
Now he knew. He’d longed for this feeling his whole life, but could never
define what he sought. This woman puzzled him. He knew only her first name,
knew nothing of her sept or clann, nor nothing of her, yet she had come to mean
the world to him.

He was afraid—afraid
for the first time in his life. He was afraid of needing her so much. He was
afraid of losing himself in her. He was afraid of losing her. That was his last
thought as Siobhan’s draught sent him to sleep.

****

Niall could not make
the return trip to the castle nearly as quickly as he’d ridden out. In his
haste to get Odhran, he hadn’t even considered taking a second horse for the
old Druid to ride back. As it turned out, his forgetfulness was probably for
the best. The way the old man clutched at his belt, Niall suspected he probably
could not have sat a horse by himself. As time passed, Niall opened up and
confided in the Druid, telling him of Ciaran’s dreams and the screaming banshee
who turned out to be Becca. He spoke of how they’d found her and Ciaran’s
possessive protectiveness from the very moment he’d laid eyes on her. He told
Odhran about Becca’s pain and its affect on Ciaran. And he revealed his own
worries for the health and safety of his clann chief. Times were too unsettled,
too dangerous to lose Ciaran. The clann needed him. The king needed him.

When they arrived at
the castle, Niall helped Odhran to the ground, and then dismounted himself. He
led the Druid inside and up to Ciaran’s chamber. Siobhan met them at the door.
With fingers to her lips, she ushered them in. Becca’s head rested on Ciaran’s
shoulder and his strong arms enfolded her, as if to keep her close and safe.
Both breathed deeply.

Odhran stared at the
sleeping couple and felt his heart stutter. What Siobhan had sensed, he knew
absolutely. This truly could be a mating granted by the gods, if the couple
could only work through the obstacles placed before them.

Ciaran instinctively
mistrusted his feelings for this woman. That she could bring out such strong
emotions and feelings—protectiveness, lust, rage, fear, even pain—disturbed the
man. Odhran understood that. Ciaran was a warrior, a leader within the
scattered clanns. In battle, he was quick, decisive. In ruling, he was fair. He
was a man always in control—or had been until this waif appeared in his life.
Now he was adrift on a sea of unfamiliar feelings.

Odhran turned his
gaze to the woman. A little glimmer of insight niggled at his brain, like a
worm dangling on a hook waiting for the fish to bite. The woman in Ciaran’s
arms looked young and with her beautiful features and hair of gold spun with
silver, there was a large portion of appealing waif to entice a man. Yet at the
same time, Odhran sensed there were two in the place of one. Deep inside the
waif, there was another. That other was dark, yet not evil.

He wished the woman
would wake. He wanted to look into her eyes. That other being seemed as old as
time and full of pain. Odhran wanted to look into the mirrors of her soul to
see. Surely the gods wouldn’t toy so cruelly with a good man like Ciaran.

The Druids believed
the human soul made a long journey through many lives in the course of its
existence. Odhran was curious about this woman’s soul, guessing it had survived
many lifetimes. As he watched, the woman slipped her right hand into Ciaran’s
shirt and rested her palm above his heart. The couples’ legs were entwined like
wild ivy and her hair cast a golden net across his chest. Even in sleep, the
woman sought the binding. Then the pain hit.

Niall rushed to the
old Druid’s side. The man clutched his chest and fell to his knees. He panted,
biting back moans. Niall looked helplessly at his wife, but her eyes were on
the couple in the bed. Neither moved. Her sleeping draught had put them far
beyond the pain’s reach. Siobhan knelt beside the old man and took his face in
her hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Is the pain hers?”
she asked. He nodded. She continued to hold his face and stare into his eyes.
Within moments, the Druid’s breathing returned to normal and he relaxed.
Siobhan released him, and Niall helped both of them up.