Chapter 19
My willow greeted me by tangling its limbs around me like an embrace. I rubbed my face against the leaves as their luminescent charm tingled against my skin. Safety. A skitter against the dry dirt just outside my protective space sent me reeling.
Right, safety and this place didn’t mix.
I pressed my back against the tree stump, readying myself for anything.
Another scuffle. Then a heavy footstep. Seconds ticked away as I listened and waited, my heartbeat hammering in my ears, but come the last footstep I’d had enough.
I was sick of playing the helpless victim, the damn meal, so I stepped toward uncertainty. “You want me? Come and get me!”
I emerged to find the dreamscape around me misshapen. The scene cycled through mismatched images, refusing to settle on any cohesive landscape. Dark, light, here, there, but no one place in particular. And no beast.
Instead, a human snicker tickled my ears. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”
I spun about, and the shifting landscape fell into place, solidified. A metallic gleam blinded me as I peeked through my fingers, making out a pair of stark-green eyes and a full body of armor—the wisp, once again in human form. “You again. What are you doing here?”
“Careful now, a warm greeting like that will have a lad falling in love quicker than a hare fleeing a fox.” He grinned and stepped closer, fresh green grass bursting to life beneath his steps, spreading out across a now fully formed meadow.
Though subtle, I saw his wrists twirl, twist, and brilliant greens, blues, and purples erupted at his call.
Flowers—otherworldly in their petal arrangements—enveloped the rolling hills around us, their vibrancy bright against the dark-violet sky.
Magic … be wary. Though impressive, I knew better than to take anything in my dream world at face value.
My hand latched onto a rock near my bare foot and I cocked it back in warning. “Stay back!”
He chuckled as he raised his hands in surrender. “While your ferocity is admirable—albeit a tad amusing given your brutal weapon of choice—you have no reason to fear me.”
He dared another step closer.
“Stop right there or I swear I’ll … I’ll use it!” I reared my hand back, rock ready to launch, and I almost laughed at myself. The guy had a sword. The hell was I going to do with a rock aside from maybe a bump on the head before he ran me through? But I didn’t lower it.
“Okay, calm down,” he snickered again, a weft of white hair lifting in the breeze. “We don’t want anybody losing an eye now.”
“What do you want from me?” I scanned the hilt of his sword sheathed at his hip.
“Nothing, I only wish to help. I know, how considerate of me, ready to help despite your continued threat on my life after having saved yours. But I am nothing if not a gentleman, Fey.” He winked.
My blood ran cold. “How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot more than your name.”
Red flags erupted in my mind, my nerves fraying at his ominous admission. “I think you should go.”
“That is a shame.” He sighed, lowering his hands. “I thought you might be interested in why Margaret’s journal feels so familiar to you. But if you want me to go, I will.”
After a low bow, he turned on his heel and sauntered away. My gut knotted. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he was baiting me, but if he held answers surrounding Margaret … what else did he know? Desperation fueled me. “Wait …”
Back to me, he looked over his shoulder, a mischievous—dare I say handsome—grin on his cheeks. “If you say so, sweetheart.”
I silenced the alarms rattling in my skull as the stranger faced me. “This doesn’t mean I trust you. You make any quick moves, and I’ll—”
“You will clock me with a rock. Noted.”
“And enough with the sweetheart shit. It’s creepy.”
“Right.” He snapped once and made his way to a newly formed bench in the middle of the meadow. My feet may have followed, but I didn’t dare take a seat at his side. Too risky.
“So,” he sighed at the sky as he crossed his ankles. “I know your name, but I feel it’s only fair you know mine as well—”
“I don’t care about your name. Tell me what you know about Margaret’s journal.”
He clapped a hand over his heart. “Ouch. Can’t we have a little civility? After all, I saved your life. Twice.”
My face flushed. He had a point. He’d saved my ass more than once, and I was treating him like some intruder. Though his intentions might be malicious, I owed him a chance to explain himself before casting judgment. I shifted on my feet and cleared my throat. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“You are quite forgiven. Like I was trying to say, my name is Leeran and, well, I’ve known you since the beginning.”
“Beginning?” My chest tightened. “Of what?”
“Why, the beginning of your first life, of course,” he said nonchalantly, meeting my gaze, his happy-go-lucky demeanor dissipating as he took in my pursed lips. “Wait … don’t tell me you are still unaware of your past lives?”
I scoffed. “Past lives. Right.”
“Damn it.” He massaged his forehead before meeting my gaze again.
“Forgive me. Had I known you were still in this phase, I would have never shared such information so frivolously. I just assumed based on the lucidity in your dreams that you had come to the realization already. That was not the way to tell you.”
“Let me get this straight, you expect me to just believe you? With absolutely nothing to back your wild claims?” My voice shook and betrayed my false confidence.
“You must have felt that connection to Margaret. To Yelena.”
Silence blanketed my tongue.
“I know it is not an easy idea to wrap your mind around,” he said. “But, if you’ll allow me, I can show you.”
Longing danced across his face as he extended his hand while an internal battle waged within me.
On one hand, I knew nothing about him or his intentions.
On the other, he had saved me … and he was open about wanting to help.
That’s more than I could say about Cillian or Celine at this point.
Whatever the two of them knew—about me, about magic—they weren’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to share it.
“I know trust does not come easy to you,” he said. “It never has, and I respect that. But tell me, why would I have risked my own life to save yours if I did not have your best interests in mind? I don’t risk my ass for just anyone, sweet—I mean, Fey.”
He wouldn’t have … My hands balled into fists at my side. I was done living in the dark. It was time to get some damn answers. Though a small voice deep inside me questioned his intentions, I took his hand.
The moment our skin touched, the scenery swayed, changed, and expanded.
Once the meadow of Leeran’s own creation, it’d been replaced by rolling hills and a restless gray sky.
An earthy perfume of fresh grass and moist soil twisted in my nose, calming my tense shoulders.
I turned toward him only to find the space he’d occupied empty. I searched behind and ahead. “Leeran?”
“I’m here,” his voice called from the clouds.
The hills around me broke apart, falling to the ground like a sheet dropped from a clothesline, and I was back in the meadow with his hand in mine. My palms grew clammy as I brought them to my sides. “How’d you do that?”
He twiddled his fingers, dainty white whips bursting to life from each, and grinned.
“Magic. What you saw is a memory projection. My magic is a bit … unorthodox to say the least, in that I control two of the four affinities, as opposed to the usual one—Elemental and Tinctured.” He tapped a purple stone hung around his neck. “Or rather, I did when I was alive.”
My eyes drifted from his talisman to his face and back again. I knew the stone, but couldn’t recall seeing it in the mother of magic’s palm back in Fhírinne. “Amethyst?”
“Indeed. I admit, it is not a common stone for one to use to channel their magic, but I find it serves me well; allows the physical and spiritual magics to coexist far easier than if I had one for each. I like to do magic that way.” His smile widened.
“Use both as one. It keeps my affinities from fighting among themselves on who the more treasured form of magic is.”
I tucked a loose teal curl behind my ear. “Right. So, shall we …”
“Yes, of course.” He bent at the hips, extending a hand to me again. “Milady?”
I scrunched my nose. “Okay, sweetheart was bad, but milady? I’m not a seventy-year-old grandma waiting on her gentleman caller, you know.”
“No, you most certainly are not.” His gaze fell to my lips as he slipped a hand in mine. “Shall we?”
A wave rolled through my center as the warmth in his fingertips sank into my skin, but I pushed it away. Whatever this was, whoever he was, was merely a means to an end. A chance at information and nothing more.
My feet touched down on the pebbled path, this time farther down the lane.
I wound through cottage-lined streets, past livestock, and bustling townsfolk.
Two women in fancy dresses compared to the rest of the townspeople breezed past in hushed gossip.
Irish … their accents were Irish, no doubt about it.
A young boy and his friend sprinted past, the first crashing into one of the women and taking her to the ground.
“Manners,” the frazzled woman screamed, hair amuck and undergarments on display for any passerby with wandering eyes.
The boys tore down the lane, giggling as they went, and I choked down a laugh as I ambled farther into town, past a bread shop, a cobbler, and horse stalls.
I studied each as I passed, this strange nostalgia hitting my veins like adrenaline.
But none were more captivating than the shop at the end of the lane.
My feet paused beneath the large wooden sign: Blacksmith. A buzz zipped across my fingertips.
Leeran’s voice rang through the sky. “You will notice that the closer you are to those you loved in your past lives, the more your affinities will guide you, attempting to rekindle the connection you once shared.”
“Me? Magic?” I scoffed. “Wrong.”