“You said Airiu c-can’t send a message. Is she a p-prisoner?”
“Not a prisoner, but not free, either. She cannot risk a visit to the mortal realm now. The time difference is too great, young man. She’ll have other duties now, with no leisure to gallivant off to your world whenever she wants. Bodach has seen to that.” His expression grew pensive.
“What? What has Bodach d-d-done? He survived the battle, then?”
“Oh, yes, he survived. The Queen has not been kind to him, but he lives. He takes his anger and frustration out on the lesser Fae. Airiu is one of them. The Queen protects her as much as she can, but she cannot leave.”
Fingin squeezed Lainn too hard, and the child whined, but he rocked her back to sleep. She fussed for a few minutes before drifting away. “What can I d-do to help? This is all my fault. She shouldn’t have to suffer for my own actions.”
Adhna shook his head. “You cannot return. Bodach would kill you as soon as you set foot in Faerie. He’s set out sentries at all the entrances, in case you should try to sneak in. No, you must stay away from Faerie for the nonce. Perhaps someday, seasons from now, he will relax his vigil, and you can find Airiu again. Now, however, you’ve a human mate to choose. Brigit told me of your plight, and I’ve selected several options for you.”
Each young woman Adhna brought him seemed sweet enough. However, none of them seemed to possess any sense of delight, any spark of intelligence. He searched in each woman’s eyes for the spark he’d found with Airiu, but remained disappointed.
He dreamt of Airiu’s silken hair, her velvet skin, her musical voice. The stories she told, the conversations they shared. Their hopes and plans. None of the human women Adhna brought carried even a glimmer of that magic.
After a moon, Adhna threw his hands in the air. “Stop being so stubborn, Fingin. You’ll never find a woman like a Fae in these humans. Stop looking for true love and settle for true comfort. You have children to feed. Look at your daughter. The goat’s milk isn’t good for her. She should have grown more by now. Conall’s weaned too young. Have you no thought for the health of your children?”
Ashamed, Fingin hung his head and sighed. “You’re right. I’ll t-take the next young woman you bring.”
Adhna crossed his arms. “Oh, no. I’ve scoured the countryside for eligible brides, and you’ve turned them all down. Now it’s up to you to find a mate. I’m done trying.”
Him? He’d never been any good at finding people, much less wooing women. But Adhna didn’t lie. He’d squandered the offers given, so now he must find his own.
“C-can you at least fix my voice for a while? I c-c-can’t woo a woman with this stutter.”
Adhna frowned. “I would if I could, young man. However, you’ll just have to push through it. Magic is not the answer to everything wrong in the world.”
The next day, he went to market, dried and fresh fish for trade. He’d also woven several mats using Airiu’s exquisite patterns. Perhaps his handiwork would attract the eye of a prospect. He brought both his children. Any woman would need to know what she was getting into with him from the beginning.
He held out little hope. As Adhna mentioned, the local countryside held few options. Still, sometimes, a relative would visit from another valley.
The baker’s daughter, a small round girl about his own age, had been one of Adhna’s suggestions. She sent him a vague smile as he passed by, looking for a place to set out his goods. He strolled by the tanner’s stall, which shared a space with the cooper. They had no daughters, but he waved anyhow. Talking remained unnatural, so he kept silent by default.
The blacksmith, a burly, dark man with curly hair, nodded as he settled in the next open spot. He had no daughters either, but a young woman carried a load of wood to his furnace. Her dark brown hair escaped her braid, and a smudge of soot marred her face, but she flashed him a friendly smile. He didn’t recognize her at all.
He set out his fish, his mats, and arranged the children to keep an eye on them. Lainn lay in a wide basket he’d made, while Conall he kept in his lap, the child occupied with a wooden puzzle game Fingin had carved last moon.
A few people came by, and by midday, he’d sold half his fish and two of his five mats. In return, he’d gotten a small iron pot and two warm wool blankets, both green. The children would need them, especially come winter.
The dark-haired blacksmith’s helper stood behind him, hands on her hips. “So, what’s your name?”
He nodded to her, with a smile, but didn’t stand. Conall offered him an excuse to remain sitting. “I’m c-c-called Fingin. What’s your name?”
“Ligach. Do you live nearby?”
Epilogue
They married with little fuss. Ligach told him right away she was barren. She’d married before and gave birth to a misshapen monster. The druí told her she’d have no more children, and her husband left.
“So when I saw you already had children, I thought you might take on a wife who would bear no more.”
He didn’t fault her logic. He enjoyed talking with her. She spoke her mind, even if she chattered more than he liked. Sometimes he even missed Tomnat’s taciturn ways, but now he lived in a real home, with a real family, and a real life. He’d fathered two delightful
