Naamah's Kiss (5 page)

"Yours," she said firmly.

"But why? What's it for ?"

She crouched beside me and blew softly on the dandelion ball. An ordinary breath. The fairy seeds blew away, drifting into the warm air. She watched them go. "Must it be for anything?"

"It seems it ought."

She shrugged. "Then no doubt it will be revealed in time."

My mother could be somewhat infuriating. "I saw a vision," I said. "In Clunderry, outside the fields. A man all ringed around in brightness with a seed sprouting from the palm of his hand."

"Oh?"

Very infuriating. "Mother!"

"Peace, Moirin." She laid her hand atop my head. "Mayhap you glimpsed some fertility god worshipped by the Cullach Gorrym. Mayhap it was a sending of one of the gods of Terre d'Ange whose blood runs in your veins. I do not know. It awakened you to certain gifts, which is to the good. But you recall that the purpose of our journey was to be reminded that gifts must be used wisely?"

"Aye," I murmured.

She rose and helped me to my feet. I stood, swaying. "Was this a wise use of power? Exhausting yourself to accomplish what would have occurred naturally in two days' time?"

"I wanted to show you," I said stubbornly.

"And so you have." She kissed my cheek. "Come. We've unwanted visitors to dispel."

I sighed, and went with her.

Four days later, I met Cillian.

I'd been ranging in the pine wood to the southeast of our homesite to gather dry, fragrant pine needles to stuff new pallets for my mother and me. I left off with my basket half full when a light rain began to fall. I didn't mind the rain, but it wouldn't do to gather damp mast. I headed for home with the basket slung over one shoulder and my bow and quiver over the other. Silvery raindrops slid from the needles overhead. Birds twittered in the boughs, telling one another all was well with the world.

If I'd been paying attention, I might have sensed him before I saw him, but I wasn't and didn't. It was plain luck that I came upon him from behindluck, and the fact that I moved quietly. He was crouching behind an outcropping of stone that overlooked our hearth, peering over the edge. The sight startled me enough that I let my basket fall to the ground with a soft thud.

"Who's there?" He scrambled to his feet and whirledbut I had already summoned the twilight.

A boy.

I guessed he was a couple years older than me. I couldn't see his coloring properly in the dim twilight, but he was fair-skinned. He turned his head from side to side, one hand hovering over the hilt of a dagger.

"Who's there?" he called again.

I unslung my bow and nocked an arrow. "Who asks?"

His eyes widened. "Dagda Mor!" He glanced all around for the source of my voice, but there was nothing to see. He had heard me speak only because I willed it. "Where are you? Will you not show yourself?" When I didn't answer, he stooped carefully and picked up a bulging satchel. "Come, I mean no harm. I'm Cillian mac Tiernan of Innisclan. I've brought an offering." He untied the drawstring and opened the satchel. "See? Fresh peaches."

The peaches smelled ripe and heady and wonderful.

I hesitated.

"You don't want them?" Cillian tugged the drawstring closed. "All right, then. I'll take them away."

"Just leave them and go."

"Ah, no." He shook his head. Even through the gloaming, I could make out the glint of curiosity and bravado that lit his eyes. "Don't the Old Ones love a bargain? Show me your true form. Just a glimpse. I'll take my leave, and the peaches are yours."

I really wanted those peaches.

I let the twilight fade, keeping the arrow trained on him.

"Dagda Mor!" He stared at me. In daylight, his hair was reddish brown. He had grey eyes and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. "Are you flesh or spirit?"

"Flesh."

"And this is your true form?"

"Aye." I gestured with the arrow. "You may put down the peaches and leave now."

Cillian continued to stare at me. "You're just a little girl!"

I was beginning to get annoyed. "Well, and so?"

A wide grin crossed his face. "You don't imagine you could hurt me with that toy bow and bit of elf-shot, do you?" I do.

We regarded one another. "Why do you not vanish?" he asked, curious. "I've had my glimpse, have I not?"

"I can't," I said irritably. "You're looking at me." So?

"It doesn't work that way. You can't hide from an eye that's already on you."

He chuckled. "Then you must have a right great fondness for peaches."

I loosed my bowstring. The arrow thudded into the bulging canvas satchel. Peach nectar oozed around the shaft. I had another arrow nocked before he could react.

"Are you mad?" he shouted, holding the satchel in front of him like a shield. "I come bearing a gift!"

"And spying!"

"Well, you didn't have to show yourself, did you?"

"Apparently I did, if I wanted the bedamned peaches!" I shouted back at him.

"You shot the bedamned peaches!" For the space of a few heartbeats, we glared at one another. Then Cillian sighed and lowered the satchel. He took a step backward, raising both hands. "Truce, eh? I spoke you fair. I mean no harm. I wanted only to see what was here."

I lowered my bow. "Why?"

"I was curious." His tone was frank. "All these years and no one's ever had so much as a glimpse. No one imagined there was a child."

My heart thudded. "Do you mean to tell them?"

"Tell them what?" Cillian smiled ruefully. "That I well nigh got shot by a woodsprite with a child's bow?" He looked at my expression and sobered. "Nay, I'll not speak of it if you wish. I'll make you a bargain. Give me your name and I'll give you my silence."

I paused. "Moirin."

"Moirin." He nodded. "My word on it."

I made another gesture with the tip of my arrow. "You should go now."

"All right." He turned, then turned back. I had already breathed a cloak of twilight around me. Cillian blinked. "Moirin?"

I didn't bother to make myself visible. "Aye?"

"May I come again?"

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I like tales of magic. This is the nearest I've come to living in one. I'll bring more peaches," he added when I didn't answer.

I plucked out the arrow that had pierced the satchel and licked the gleaming nectar that coated it. It was thick and sweet, tasting of long hours ripening on the branch and sunshine's promise fulfilled. "These are the last harvest."

"They are?" Cillian sounded startled. "Apples, then. Whatever you like." ..

"Apples," I agreed. "And honeycakes."

He grinned. "Apples and honeycakes it is."

"Cillian mac Tiernan," my mother mused. I nodded. "Are you angry?"

"At who?" She bit into a peach. "Him for spying? Or you for showing yourself?"

"Either."

"Neither." She shook her head. "He's a lad; they're full of curiosity and daring at that age. And mayhap I've protected you overmuch. You're old enough to begin making your own choices. I've no fear that Lord Tiernan will meddle in our affairs even if the lad talks. The Dalriada know to leave well enough alone." She took another bite, chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "It would have been a shame to waste such good peaches."

I was relieved. "You're not angry."

"I am not."

"Good," I said. "Because I told him he could come again."

For the first time, I found myself keeping track of the days. Ten passed before Cillian returned. I daresay I would have sensed him this timeI'd not let my awareness lapse as I had beforebut there was no need. As though to apologize for his former stealth, he made a racket this time, clattering through the underbrush. Before he was even in sight, he called.

"Moirin?"

My mother and I were mending clothes on the hearth. I glanced at her. She raised one eyebrow in reply.

My choice.

"Aye," I called. "Down here."

Cillian's head appeared over the ridge, then the rest of him. He froze for a moment on seeing both of us, then scrambled down. I was pleased to see he was carrying a satchel even larger than the first one. He reached the hearth and looked uncertainly from one of us to the other and back.

"Lady Fainche?" he inquired, a little breathless.

"And who else would it be?" My mother sounded amused.

He colored and offered a courteous bow. "Forgive me. Well met, my lady. I am Cillian mac Tiernan."

"Well met, Cillian mac Tiernan," she said. "You've a look of your father. Is he well?"

"He is." He proffered the satchel. "Apples and honeycakes. And I thought a wheel of cheese wouldn't go amiss."

She smiled. "You're a thoughtful lad. I'll store these in the back and do you the courtesy of returning your satchel."

Cillian watched her walk into the cave. "Is that her true form?"

"Aye," I said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You" He paused, flushing again.

"I don't look like her," I said softly, understanding. "Is that it?"

"Aye no. Yes and no." He blew out his breath. "You do and you don't. No mind." He glanced around. "This is the whole of it? Your home?"

"You should know," I said. "You spied on it long enough the other day."

His flush deepened. "Dagda Mor! Are you always so rude?"

I blinked. "Am I?"

"Aye!"

"I suppose so, then." I thought about how I might best make amends. "Would you like me to show you how to catch a trout with your bare hands?"

Cillian shrugged. "Why not?"

I showed him first working in ordinary daylight, reckoning it was only fair. It worked that way, too, only it took a lot longer and you had to be almighty patient.

"'Tis no match for a hook and line," he observed when I finally caught one. "Have you not got one? I'll bring one next time."

I shook my head. "No need."

"Don't be daft"

"Watch." I deposited my fish in the creel and summoned the twilight, conscious of his gaze on me. He made a soft sound. Lying beneath the willow tree, I eased my arm back into the clear water. In the twilight, the swimming trout had a silvery gleam. Almost as soon as the slight ripples I'd created faded, I caught one.

"Magic," Cillian murmured. "Did you make yourself unseen?" Aye.