Chapter 16
Druid stones held secrets. From the first long-ago morning his father had lifted him up to touch the ancient carvings with grubby child-fingers, Niall had sensed it.
Enigmas captured not only in the ancient writings scribed upon the rocky faces but deeper, more mystic enigmas hoarded within the stones' hearts.
Even now, as he stood braced, defiant in the first rays of moonlight, Niall knew what treasures lay there.
Wisdom from the beginning of time, echoes of ages when the veil between worlds of flesh and spirit were thin as mist, and a man only had to step across that airy divide into a realm beyond imagining.
Voices so strong, so sage, even death could not silence them.
Niall's chest tightened as a memory shivered to life in the darkest reaches of his mind. A child's joyous chatter, a father's indulgent smile, a day so magical Niall could still feel the gritty scrape of rock against his skin, feel the sun bake his nose.
Is this the gate to Tir naN Og? his eager voice queried. Show me where it is, I beg you!
And let you steal off to the land of the fairies without me? Nay, anam cara. You will have to be patient awhile longer. Grow tall and strong and brave. But know this. When you do pass through those gates, I will be waiting for you.
Even now, Niall could remember the prickling of foreboding, unsettling enough that he spoke despite his jealously guarded dignity, trying and failing to hide his fear from the man he adored. But if you were in Tir naN Og, Fiona would be lonely for you.
His father tousled Niall's hair, smiled down, tall as a mountain, stronger than the fairy king.
Do you not know, my little man? No fairy magic could keep me from watching over those I love.
Even when you can no longer see my face, I will always walk by your side.
He had grinned, Ronan of Daire, mindful of Niall's boyish pride.
You tell Fiona that for me, if ever she is afraid.
Apprehension quelled, Niall had dashed off with a shout, chasing a rabbit that darted through the grass. Yet he had carried his father's promise with him, as confident that his father would watch over him as he was that the sun would rise at dawn.
He had believed until angry warriors dragged his father away from Daire, until those dark, hopeless nights at the mercy of Conn's strapping sons, when Niall had strained with all his being into the dark night sky, desperate despite his anger, his betrayal, his fear, to feel his father's presence beside him.
Niall raked his hand through his wind-tossed hair, that lost boy's anguish fresh inside him. Was that the moment he had begun to truly hate Ronan of Daire? The moment he realized that he was alone?
Niall shook his head, scattering the images, half tempted to mount his horse again, to ride away from the glen and his father's cairn and the druid stone with its secrets.
But he was seeking an answer only the stone could give, desperate for some sign that he had not run mad.
Yet as Niall summoned his courage and pressed callused palms to the rugged gray stone, the ancient carvings only mocked him, hoarding their secrets despite his silent plea.
His cheeks burned despite the bite of the wind. Why was the accursed stone silent? Had the Tuatha de Danaan who ruled from the earth's secret depths judged him undeserving? Ancient wisdom was for heroes, champions, not liars who had betrayed their chieftain.
And yet, even if Niall himself did not merit an answer, surely Caitlin would. He could only hope that mighty Fintan would care more about his imperiled daughter than Niall's dishonor.
Closing his eyes tight, Niall reached out with all his will.
"Give me a sign, you dwellers of the hills.
Fintan, I am blinded, like you. I know not what to do.
Should I keep Caitlin here, at Daire, or carry her away to Iona, leave her...
?" He could not finish, his throat cinched so tight.
Bleak, unthinkable, the possibility he would have to leave his lady behind.
"I will do it, curse you all!" Niall roared aloud. "Turn my back on her on some far-flung isle. Walk away. But only if you give me some sign she will be safe. Speak to me, curse you! Fintan! Father!"
Was it desperation? Fury? A conjuring of his imagination? Stone burned, alive in an instant, pulsing beneath his hands. Niall's eyes flew open, but he did not draw away.
"Answer for her, Fintan, if not for me. If ever you loved your daughter—"
Thunder cracked, shattering a cloudless sky. Jaw clenching, Niall only ground his palms tighter against the rough surface. A cry of anguish, denial, ripped from Niall's throat. The pulse in the stone grew fainter, the surface suddenly, painfully cold. Dead.
Niall let his hands fall to his sides. He staggered a few steps away, sagged down onto the ground, and buried his face in his hands.
The old ones had answered without words. The future he had dared to dream of in Caitlin's arms would never be. But had he not known from that dream's first stirring it was madness? How could a hero like Fintan give his daughter to a man forsworn?
Niall's gut burned with loss but there was one thing he could be grateful for.
He had not been reckless enough to let Caitlin guess the pretty illusions his heart had been painting.
Despite the nights they had shared their bodies, she would never suspect he had hoped they might share a future.
Fill Castle Daire with their loving, their laughter, a flock of babes with his eyes and Caitlin's valiant spirit.
A low moan tore from Niall at the image he had cherished throughout those beautiful nights—Caitlin's body swelling with the sweet fruit of their loving, Caitlin drowsing in the crook of his arm, while their dark-curled babe suckled at her breast. A family for Niall and his lady.
A precious place where they could both belong.
But those babes would live only in Niall's imagination now.
His throat knotted, his chest burned, and for a moment he could envy his mother, wandering in the shadow world where dreams were real, the dead walked beside one, and love could work miracles even beyond the grave.
But no such sweet escape waited for him.
He had to think clearly enough to spirit Caitlin off to safety.
He had to be strong enough to let her go.
Wearily, Niall dragged himself to his feet and trudged toward the hollow where his horse stood, grazing. He grabbed the reins, readying himself to swing up onto the horse's broad back. Suddenly, he froze, stunned, awed, his heart taking flight.
A sign. He had asked for a sign! But never had he guessed what it would be. He laughed, staring into the shadows, in wonder, knowing what he would do.
He would carry his offering back to the castle, kneel before Caitlin, before Fiona and his mother. He would tell them of the miracle the old ones had granted and offer them one of his own: the magic of new beginnings.
For six nights, twilight had been a greening time, promising fresh rapture with each new banner of rose or gold that unfurled across the horizon. Darkness became an ally who would bring Niall to her side.
But as Caitlin peered out the open doorway into the arch of landscape beyond, the world appeared suddenly dreary, even the faint flickering of the stars no longer offering her comfort.
The sharp yearning she had suffered weeks before, when she had struggled to maintain a link with the abbess, had dulled.
Tonight, as the moon's silver light brimmed over the lip of its emerald chalice of fields, she felt a far more powerful tug deep in her chest. Caitlin glanced over toward the hearth, where Fiona perched near her mother, every muscle in the girl's body twitching with barely leashed energy, like a frightened bird poised for flight.
Her eyes glinted, feverish bright, her gestures a little more reckless, her laughter high-pitched and wild.
Aniera had not noticed any difference in her daughter, but ever since Gormley had left the castle, Fiona had fairly sizzled with restlessness, trying with all her might to hide any hint of self-blame.
But the girl was eaten alive with it, no matter how often Caitlin had tried to soothe her.
Caitlin's heart squeezed. If only she could find some way to make Fiona believe the truth!
The confrontation with Gormley had been frightening and Caitlin was angry at how heedlessly Fiona had cast herself into such danger.
But much as Caitlin was dreading Niall's reaction when he learned what had happened, she could only thank God she had been there, able to help Fiona out of trouble when the girl's plans went awry.
Aye, Caitlin thought, chagrined. There was a reason she no longer wished for the abbey, for the sights and scents that were so familiar. Somehow, during these past, precious days, she had discovered something as astonishing as it was wondrous and unnerving.
Daire was home.
The first real home she had ever known.
Caitlin winced. What was she thinking, growing to love this place so much?
The crumbling castle, more hospitable to spiders and mice than people.
The gentle old woman who wandered a fairy world.
A rebellious girl who would rather leap from castle roof than admit she needed anyone.
And a man so battered, so betrayed, he might never be able to love anyone, especially when he loathed himself.
They were nothing like what she had imagined as a girl dreaming in the convent, and yet, when Caitlin had least expected it, the three of them had become the family she had longed for all her life.
But they were not hers, had never been hers, Caitlin reminded herself grimly. So why did she feel so bereft at the thought of what she must do?