Her husband stalked toward them, jealousy in every line of his body. He clenched his fists so hard, the knuckles showed white. Thunder played across his face. “How dare you call yourself my wife!”
Adhna dropped his grip on Clíodhna’s arm. “Oisinne, pray tend to me. You will not hurt this woman.”
He swiveled to face the Fae. Without warning, Oisinne rushed Adhna, his shoulder dropped low to attack his midriff. Adhna stepped aside, unflustered by the assault.
Oisinne slowed when he encountered nothing, turned, cocked his head, and staggered a few times, as if drunk. He glowered and lowered his shoulder to strike again.
While chanting in an ancient tongue, Adhna raised his hands, the sleeves of his léine dropping back to reveal inked serpents along his arms. Oisinne paid this no mind but ran toward his opponent.
By the time he reached the Fae, though, his pace slowed and his head bowed low. A few more stumbling steps and he crumpled into a heap at Adhna’s feet.
With a cry, Clíodhna knelt next to her husband. “What did you do? Did you kill him?”
Adhna held out his hands, palms down. “He is well enough, Clíodhna. At least, as much as he can be. I made him rest. He should be so for a few days, perhaps rousing now and then for food or drink. Even then, he’ll remain calm, as if in a dream.”
She swallowed. Her fear when he fell made her realize she still felt deeply for Oisinne, despite his madness. Nodding at Adhna’s information, she noticed Donn had peeked around the house. With a gesture, she bade him come help Oisinne into his bed.
When her husband slumbered under several wool blankets and tied netting, she returned to Adhna’s side. He had to leave, but she didn’t want to admit it. “What happens when he wakes? Will he remember what you did to him?”
“He will remember nothing of this day. That’s the best gift I can give you at this moment.”
She glanced back again. “Can you show me how to do that?”
He bit his lip. “I can show you how to muddle the memory, but it’s a dangerous tool. You must be careful not to do it too often. Sometimes the effects can become permanent, and it may backlash.”
After steeling her spine, she said, “Show me.”
The chant seemed simple enough, and she almost understood the words. They danced on the edge of comprehension, alien and familiar at the same time. But this magic wasn’t from the earth. The spell drew from air and water, to wash the ephemeral of memory away like a summer storm.
After she practiced drawing the power, he explained how to wield it, but once again cautioned her against using it frivolously. “Someday, when I return, I will teach you more.”
“Must you truly leave?”
He gestured toward the house. “If I remain, your husband will only get worse. For your own safety, I must go back to Faerie now. I will come back to check on you, but I cannot stay and teach you any longer.”
Her throat grew dry and she threw her arms around him. He clung tight to her, his fingers digging into the muscles of her back. Clíodhna didn’t want to let him go, and her blood chilled with both misery and despair.
Once they broke their embrace, he faded into the trees.
Chapter Six
The few days of peace passed. When her husband woke once again, he didn’t mention Adhna or his attack. He must have no memory of the incident. For this, Clíodhna thanked the gods.
She had little else to be thankful for.
Mornings were chaos. She tried her best to wake before Oisinne. Donn helped her tie his ropes each night after he slept and untied them in the morning, so he remained unaware of his bonds, but sometimes they failed, or he awoke in the night. When this happened, his rage knew no bounds. A black eye became the least of Clíodhna’s injuries when he vented his anger on her.
At least so far, though, she’d been able to deflect his anger from the children. Once or twice, Oisinne pushed Donn or slapped Etromma, but they learned how to escape the house before his fury rose to physical violence. Etromma grabbed Aileran on her way out. The baby crawled fast but got little chance to explore when his father rampaged.
Clíodhna remained to try to calm her husband, and to keep him from chasing them down. He paid her in a currency of bruises and lacerations. So far, he’d broken no bones, but her ankle had twisted trying to back away from his blows.
Despite the painful limp, her only escape became long daily walks in the forest. Oisinne didn’t care for walking in the woods. He’d rather stew at home. He didn’t even go out hunting any longer. Instead, Donn would fish or trap small game while Etromma hunted for larger prey. Clíodhna tended her garden but would sometimes walk with Etromma as her daughter tracked her prey. Clíodhna almost felt a glimmer of freedom.
When she returned, she would receive more blows, but at least she’d found a few hours of peace.
Oisinne insisted on going into the village to listen to the monks each dawn.
Some mornings, he behaved almost human. He would greet other villagers, people he’d known most of his life, with pleasantries and small talk. Oisinne might compliment the Abbot on his words that day, or comment on the progress of the new great hall they built. He might even link his arm in Clíodhna’s, the very picture of a happy couple. Other mornings, life became less bucolic.
Clíodhna
