19. Tuatha #2
“You think that matters to them? You think they care about the reason?” Conall stepped forward, the tension in his body coiled. “You defied the court. You defied the gods.”
“I saved her,” Kyron snapped.
“She’s the daughter of Lugh,” Conall said. “Do you understand what that means? Touching that thread means touching power older than you or I can name. They tolerate you because you kept the bloodline alive. That’s the only reason you’re standing here still.”
“I made a choice,” Kyron said. “And I’d make it again.”
Conall stared at him, fury and betrayal tangled in his features, the way his nose scrunched up, his fists balled at his sides. “You should have told me. I would have gone with you.”
“I know.” Guilt rose in Kyron’s eyes. “I’m not going back,” he said.
“And if war comes?” Conall asked. “Do you think you can stand on your own?”
“I don’t know,” Kyron said. “But I’ll stand where she is.”
For a moment, they just looked at each other. The silence was thick with grief and loyalty.
Conall stepped back. His shoulders straightened. His anger dulled to quiet resolve.
“I have to go,” he said. “The court calls. There’s talk of old forces stirring. The court’s whispering war, and not just among themselves. If war comes, the line you’ve crossed won’t just be personal; it’ll be political. They may have no choice but to get involved now. So watch your back, Kyron.”
Kyron nodded once. “Till next time?”
Conall gave a faint, tired smile. “Till next time.”
He shifted again, limbs bending, bones cracking. The wolf emerged once more and vanished into the city.
Maelan stepped up beside Kyron. His voice was quiet. “You didn’t tell us that stepping back here might have ended in imprisonment or worse.”
Kyron watched the branches sway in the wind. “I didn’t tell you a lot of things.”
They continued along the perfectly smooth paths until they reached a winding trail leading up a mountain.
At its peak sat a few homes, the largest of which stood adorned with a gold roof, scattered emeralds and rubies gleaming along its edges.
Massive stained-glass windows led to an ornate golden door, framed by a towering gate wrapped in thick, twisting vines.
Only two other homes sat atop the mountain, set far back from this one. From here, the view stretched far beyond the Tuatha Dé Danann territories; it was breathtaking, endless. Kyron strolled up to the gate, pushing it aside effortlessly before motioning for Maelan to follow.
Maelan lingered for a moment, taking in the sight before him.
The rooftops shimmered against the skyline, rippling like waves.
Fields of flowers stretched endlessly, oceans of pristine color swaying gently in the breeze.
He drank it in, just a moment longer, even though this place made him uneasy; it was undeniably beautiful.
He turned back and followed Kyron through the gates.
The house was decorated in earthy tones, grand yet effortlessly elegant.
Greenery cascaded over the structure, as if nature itself had woven into its very foundation.
Blossoms and ivy curled around the posts and railings, thriving without a single speck of dirt in sight, a miracle considering the massive hawthorn tree standing at the center of the foyer, its branches in full bloom.
Kyron moved through the hall, passing neatly arranged vases and trinkets that lined the walls, their careful placement untouched by time. The corridor led into a large circular room bathed in sunlight streaming through skylights, an indoor greenhouse alive with vibrant flora.
A woman stood among the greenery, tending to the plants with practiced grace. Her hair, the color of cinnamon kissed with the faintest hue of red, framed a face both striking and delicate. Her eyes, as green as ivy, gleamed with warmth; her fair skin smooth as porcelain.
She turned at the sound of Kyron’s footsteps, her voice rich. “Kyron, as I live and breathe.”
She set her tools aside and moved toward him, wrapping her arms around him in a firm, affectionate embrace.
“Máthair.” Kyron returned the hug before stepping back, turning toward Maelan.
“Maelan, this is Aine. My aunts, Gráinne and Fenne, live in the other homes on this hill.”
Maelan bowed at the waist, dipping his head. “It’s an honor, Goddess of Summer, Aine.”
Aine chuckled and smiled. “No need for formalities, child.”
She was still smiling when she turned her attention to Kyron.
“What of Lugh and Brigh’s daughter?” Her face was etched with curiosity as she spoke. “Why have you returned with the king of the Cait Sidhe?”
Maelan knew she could foresee events and that she must already know the truth to some extent. The weight of her gaze caused him to shift uncomfortably.
“Máthair, you know I can’t lie to you. I’m here because Sorcha has crossed into the Otherworld of her own accord. We’re here to protect her and seek answers…” He hesitated. “Did you know Bres’s son was also Sorcha’s brother?”
Kyron’s fists balled at his side, his voice rising in cadence. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Maelan slowly stepped backward, watching the exchange unfold, noting the rising temper in Kyron. He didn’t want to be anywhere near this conversation. He bumped into a stone behind him and did his best to remain unseen, wishing it would simply consume him whole.
Aine’s expression didn’t waver as she responded, but a hint of annoyance bit her voice. Her lips curled as she spoke. “It is not our place to intervene in what fate has designed, Kyron. She’s more important than you can comprehend.”
Her voice bit with anger as she spoke, “Do not push me, child.”
Maelan began walking the room, hugging the wall slowly, still trying to disappear behind the plants and ivy, doing his best to look distracted while absorbing the weight of what was being said.
The name Brigh was said again. Then the name Brigid.
Maelan began to unravel at the seams. Brigid was the goddess of fire and power, and she was said to have borne a child with a mortal man.
That child’s name was Brigh. If Sorcha’s mother was also part god, then Sorcha.
She was mostly a god, not really human at all.
She held a sliver of humanity within her. The room felt as if it were spinning.
Kyron had known?
They all knew?
How could he not have told her?
Maelan’s thoughts came undone, spiraling in all directions.
What had he done by making her part Cait?
What was she now?
Maelan knew Sorcha needed to know. She needed to understand why everything in the realms was after her.
She would inevitably attract attention. Maelan needed to get her alone long enough to tell her, but not here.
Here, they were being watched. Revealing what he knew would most likely separate him from her.
So he acted as if he hadn’t heard her name.
He stared up at the skylights, watching the perfect puffs of clouds drift slowly.
He would not let Sorcha fall into whatever plans the Tuatha Dé Danann had for her, not willingly.
It was Kyron’s voice that shattered his thoughts, the rage in it cutting through the air. “Have you no concern for her? For me? She should know what she faces! What is to come! You can tell her. We can help! I’m going to help her get the list she seeks.”
Aine’s voice was low and dangerous as the words left her mouth. “I warn you, my child. If you continue down this path with her, you will die. Fate has already revealed to me your demise, Kyron, and there is nothing that can be done.”
Maelan’s heart seized; the words hit him. He turned sharply to Kyron, who stood unnervingly still, as if his spirit had departed his body, leaving only an empty shell.
Kyron’s eyes grew dark. “I will not let fate dictate my life or death.”
Aine reached for Kyron’s hand, but he let her grasp slip away and instead turned to Maelan.
“We’re leaving.” With that, Kyron walked off, Maelan following in his wake.
Aine grabbed Maelan’s arm, her grip firm enough to startle him. “I can’t reveal what the fates have decreed, but I can offer a warning. A time of revelry will come, but the oceans will rage. Be wary of those who offer merriment, for appearances can deceive.”
Her eyes filled with sadness, but she dropped her grip and turned toward her plants. She lifted a watering can and began to trickle water onto the blooming flowers. Maelan repeated her words endlessly in his mind as he made his way back through the hall and out the grand entrance.
Maelan walked alongside Kyron in silence as they retraced their steps back toward Sorcha. He had wanted to make a quick remark to lighten the mood, but his heart felt heavy. The only thing that came to mind was anything but intelligent. “Fuck fate. It’s a bunch of bull if you ask me.”
Kyron glanced at him, blank expression before turning forward again. Maelan wanted to kick himself. What was that? He should have just stayed quiet.
The silence became overbearing as they reentered the court, the voices and sounds of fae finally giving him some relief.
He looked at Kyron again. “Do you think Sorcha is awake?
Kyron finally acknowledged him, nodding slowly. “I think she’s fine. The Tuatha are some of the most powerful Fae. She’s in good hands.” He rubbed his arm where it had broken and healed almost instantly.
Maelan only nodded, and they continued walking until they reached Sorcha’s doorway. Both stopped in their tracks, staring.