He didn’t care for waiting.
Many sleeps later, Tomnat arrived at Adhna’s home, triumph clear upon her face. “I have conceived. Your contract is half done. As a reward for your success, I have brought you back your hound. You must now wait until the child is born alive, and we shall create the second one.”
Fingin opened his mouth to say thank you, but she turned on her heel and walked away, her message delivered. His gaze flickered around wildly. “Bran? Bran, where are you?”
The woof behind him made him spin, and Bran jumped on his chest, making him fall to the ground. He laughed as Bran licked his face, his hands, his neck, any place the dog found open skin. He hugged his friend so tight, the dog yipped. “I’m so glad to see you! Did he hurt you at all? Did he treat you well?”
“He fed me. He let me run. That’s all. He never stayed with me. That’s good because he smelled bad. Like rotten trees. I don’t like him. Don’t make me go back to him, please?”
“I won’t, Bran! If I can help it, I’ll never let them take you away from me again.”
* * *
Fingin remained bound to Faerie, but at least he had Bran for company. Airiu still came by almost every day now. She and Bran formed a strong friendship, though she didn’t hear his words. They developed a crude way of communicating through bodily actions and different sounds. He understood her words, and with some work, they developed a basic level of understanding.
Time slipped through his notice, but he began to enjoy this lazy life. While he retained an underlying guilt for creating nothing, doing nothing to earn his keep, Adhna assured him he enjoyed the status of a welcome guest, and he should enjoy his respite from mortal life.
“I’ve lived in your world. I remember how difficult it is just to keep enough food to eat every day, much less to protect yourself from the weather, the people, and the dangerous ideas.”
“Dangerous ideas?”
“Oh, yes, ideas can be dangerous. They can be quite exhilarating, but mostly they’re dangerous. Ideas mean change, you see. While change itself can be good, reactions to change often result in much danger for both your people and mine.”
Fingin recalled the new religion and his parents’ feuds with those who still followed the old religion. Aideen, young Lorcan’s mother, had also been contentious about this new idea. Adhna had a point.
Fingin didn’t think he lived by any new ideas. He cast his net, cleaned his fish, and sold them at market. Nothing new about those actions. People had likely fished there for countless generations. However, Fingin created no art, no stories, no songs. He preached no ideas, no inventions, no religion.
He existed. Much as he did now, but in more comfort.
Would that be enough?
He glanced at Airiu, working out the words to a new song with Uasal. She let out a laugh, a joyful sound that tickled his ears and made him smile, though he didn’t know what she laughed at. To create such joy by making something beautiful, that would be a great purpose, a goal to strive for.
To be fair, he’d created a child in Tomnat. Children often elicited such expressions of delight, and they grew and created their own beauty in the world. Perhaps that would be his purpose; to create children of light, children with Fae blood that might make the world a brighter place. He might have a son who sang beautiful songs or a daughter who carved wooden figures.
For a moment, he felt grateful for his contrived vow as a chance to create children he’d never have created, but for the Faerie Queen’s command.
He gazed at Airiu, wishing her command had included her, rather than Tomnat. However, once his vow with Tomnat completed, perhaps Airiu would want to enter a similar vow with him, one with more romance and passion.
Fingin held this hope as a salve through the interminable waiting for Tomnat’s birthing. He still had to conceive a second child to complete the terms. In the meantime, he’d enjoy Airiu’s delightful company.
The image of her sharp teeth flashed into his memory, and he shivered. Even enchanting beauty had its dark side. He’d best keep that in mind with any of the Fae. Tomnat, Airiu, even Adhna must have a feral face. He didn’t doubt Tomnat had several. The taciturn, surly woman who had become his lover sometimes haunted his dreams, though he’d seen her but once since the ceremony.
More often, Airiu came to him in his dreams. This was where he fantasized about lying with her, instead of Tomnat, a loving embrace rather than a perfunctory one. During his slumber, they reveled in each other’s bodies, exchanging joy.
Bodach sometimes interrupted his deep dreams with Airiu. The bark-skinned Fae would intrude upon their idyll and pull Airiu away with rough hands. Sometimes Fingin fought the other Fae. Sometimes he failed. Either way, he woke up in a cold sweat and short of breath.
Thus more time passed, and Fingin began to enjoy his time in Faerie. He had an amiable host, few duties, and the pleasure of Airiu’s company. Who would ask for more?
Tomnat returned, carrying a small bundle. When she approached, he stood. Had she given birth already? He didn’t think so much time had passed, but he had no way to mark the time. Perhaps she had spent some days in the mortal world, which ran on a different time than Faerie.
Her face showed the gentlest expression she had yet given him. Her almost tender smile as she gazed upon her child
