EPILOGUE
B rogan Lann a’Chridhe, the King of the Rowan Wood, leaned forward on his stone throne that stood beneath a canopy of red leaves. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the dense foliage and illuminated parts of the forest floor. Including the way the tree roots seemed to be clawing up through the stone dais from under the throne as if they were straining for freedom.
The Dryad King perched his elbows on his widely spread knees, his hands clasped together between them as he watched two younger males approaching. He was sure they must have what he wanted by the confident way that they strode across the earthen floor of his throne room. Though they did not bring it now.
Arren Lann a’Chridhe and his younger brother Finn both stopped at the same time at the foot of the dais upon which their uncle’s throne stood and bowed. They looked alike and similar to their uncle with their finely braided, auburn hair, brown skin marked faintly in places by white spots and stripes, and vividly green eyes. They were nude but covered by foliage and animal components that grew from their skin to house their weapons and shield their most vulnerable anatomy. All of them had similar brown-and-white ears and sported full and proud racks of antlers that were covered in vibrant Summer foliage. Only the king wore beetle-shell armour on his shoulders and chest. And a crown. One that had been crafted from the antlers he’d taken from the previous king when he defeated him. The crown was wreathed in vines, moss, leaves, and white yarrow blossoms.
“Speak,” commanded the Dryad King impatiently.
“We found her, Uncle. Frolicking among an elfin folk once more,” said Arren, the elder of the brothers.
“If you have found her, then why do you stand there before me empty-handed?” demanded Brogan sharply.
“She has taken up residence in the midst of an army encampment in Ahnnaòin. We wanted you to know it will take time to apprehend her safely,” Finn explained.
Brogan was silent, pensive as he mulled over what they had told him.
“I want her back. I want what is mine , and I want her harnessed properly this time.”
Ornella was his strongest asset, and his best chance of defeating his rivals. He could not afford to allow her to slip through his fingers as she had before and disappear without a trace into the Four Courts. It was purely luck that she was the one to trigger An Díothú Mór by spilling royal blood, broadcasting her location to all the Tiarnaí.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” murmured both brothers together with their heads bowed low, but neither of them made a move to back away from him yet.
“Speak, if you must,” Brogan commanded again.
“Is it true she killed Aodhan? She killed her brother,” Arren asked.
“Is she a kinslayer?” hissed Finn.
Brogan turned his head to look resentfully down at the female dryad kneeling on the floor at the corner of his throne dais. Her head and furred ears were both lowered in submission as were the dragonfly wings she’d grown from her back. Her antlers were smaller than the males but still covered in beautiful flowers and acorns. She too was nude, but she’d grown acorn caps over her breasts and a skirt of flowering vines which pooled around her on the ground and parted over her striped thighs. The only thing upon her person that was not naturally sprouting from her was the collar around her neck.
Róisín Fuil Talmhan. The only living daughter of their goddess, Danu, who was conceived in a fertility rite with their previous king. Her father, whose antlers now graced the current king’s head, had never taken a female in the tradition of their people to increase power. And refused to give his daughter in the name of the same tradition.
So Brogan had killed him and taken all that he wanted. No small feat either, considering that Róisín had not been given to him from birth. The collar around her neck was all that kept her tethered to him. That and his sheer will.
“It is true,” he sneered at his taken mate. “The flesh of my anam is tainted it would seem.”
Róisín did not react, although he knew she would feel his hateful eyes upon her.
“Then is our cousin the wisest choice for a champion? Will the other lords not question us?” asked Arren.
“And what about Laisren? He will assert his ownership over his wife so he can finally kill her and take another to give him legitimate offspring,” pointed out Finn.
“You will leave all the Tiarnaí to me,” Brogan asserted. “Or have you forgotten that I am the one who tells these beasts what to think?”
“Of course, Tiarna,” said one of his nephews, but he could not tell which one as they both bowed their heads.
“If Laisren wishes to divorce himself from my treasonous daughter, then he must wait to do so in the arena. Her power will be mine to use in the tournaments. And when I have secured our family’s reign again, then we will kill her.”
Both of his nephews bowed to show their acceptance and understanding and backed out of the throne room.
There was a moment of silence before Brogan rose from his seat and walked down the steps to where Róisín was kneeling. Using only the tether of magic in her collar, he jolted her up to her feet so she faced him. And then he gripped her jaw hard as he forced her to meet his eyes.
“You caused me great strife when you gave birth to her in the forest. And then again when you gave me a deviant son who would not accept his duty. Do not fail me with this one, Róisín,” he warned her as a hand rested roughly over her protruding belly. She flinched but did not attempt to shield the babe from him as she did with the first two. She had finally learned better.
“I will not, my lord,” she murmured, her blonde lashes fluttering on her cheek as she struggled to hold his gaze.
“This is your last chance to provide me with an heir worthy of succeeding me. Should you fail, Laisren will not be the only Tiarna seeking to replace his wife with another who can give him what he needs. And Róisín?” Brogan added, his hand shifting from her jaw down to her throat as he leaned near to clamp his teeth over his mark on her shoulder. A mark that he’d had to force on her in the arena on the day he took his throne. The same way he’d had to force her to consummate their pairing before all the Tiarnaí in the way their traditions demanded.
“Yes, Tiarna?” she murmured, not nearly so defiant as she was in those early days.
“I will not be as merciful with you as he would have been in killing your daughter.”
The king shoved Róisín back down to the floor and then turned from her to walk back up to his throne.
“I will make you suffer for it,” he promised.