* * *
Clíodhna’s entire body ached. She tried to open her eyes, but they refused to obey her command. Instead, she groaned, which at least elicited a response. Not from her body, but from Adhna.
“Well, I had no idea it would be so intense, my dear Clíodhna. I apologize for that. However, at least you survived the process.”
Despite his assurances, she didn’t see much to be joyful for. She couldn’t move her arms. Clíodhna couldn’t even say words to that effect.
“I suspect you’re a wee bit sore. I will do what I can for that, but I must admit I have little power at the moment. It took most of my reserves just to create the brooch before my Queen blessed it, and I’ll be a bit low for some time, especially after Bodach’s attack and your rescue. I’m afraid I’m exhausted.”
Clíodhna wanted to ask him to stop rambling and just cast whatever spell he had to take away the ache.
“Now, hold still…”
What else did he think she might do? Dance a jig?
He placed his hands over her belly. Warmth spread through her body, a sweet, fuzzy warmth, like being curled up in front of a peat fire covered in wool blankets and the arms of a lover. A delicious warmth like hot lamb stew down your throat. A savory warmth, like the hug of a sleeping baby.
The heat traveled down her limbs and up around her scalp, making her hair stand on end. When it reached her lips, she tried talking again.
“Did… did the brooch accept me?”
He chuckled, removing his hands. “If it hadn’t, you would be a lot less able to ask about it, let me assure you.”
She propped herself up on her elbows, the ache fading to dullness. He held out the brooch, wrapped in its white cloth. “This is now yours, my dear Clíodhna. Guard it well, use it wisely, and be ever aware of its power.”
Nodding, she took the gift with caution, recalling the pain from the transition. It tingled when she touched it, but not painfully so.
Adhna helped her once again to her feet. “As much as it pains me, I must leave you now, and I shan’t be back for some time. I have to deal with Bodach’s betrayal, and that will take most of my limited energy. Will you be safe enough here without me?”
Thinking of Oisinne, slumbering under her spell in the roundhouse, she nodded. “I think so. I hope so.”
“Very well. If you have need of me, you know how to call me here, but I may not come right away.”
She hugged him tight, loath to let him go. “I wish I could come with you.”
Startled, he returned the hug. “But you don’t, Clíodhna. You truly don’t. Faerie is not a place to escape to–it’s a place to escape from.”
She dug her fingers into his back, desperate for a solution. “I don’t care. You’re there, and you’re the only one who understands me. I want to learn more from you, talk to you, make love to you. You’re everything in one, a friend, a lover, a teacher.”
With a rueful chuckle, he kissed her with deep passion on the lips, and then chastely on the forehead. “And you are all things to me, sweet Clíodhna. A stronger woman I have rarely met. I will come back for you when I can. I promise that.”
He turned and faded into the darkness.
With only the faint stars to guide her, Clíodhna trudged back to her roundhouse with her mad husband and children. Clíodhna gripped the magical brooch until the edges bit into her skin, but she welcomed the pain. It didn’t come close to matching the pain in her heart.
Much to her relief, Oisinne still slept. Despite his snores shaking the thatched roof, it remained tied and watertight. Donn sat outside in the clearing, a small, cheery fire in the outside pit. Aileran sat next to him, playing with a few colored rocks, glowing in the flickering firelight. Etromma had disappeared.
“Donn? Etromma hasn’t returned yet?” Glancing up at the star-filled sky, Clíodhna clamped down on the panic rising in her belly.
Her son grinned. “Oh, she came home, and left again in a huff. Tirechan has never learned how to track game. She’s showing him how.”
Clíodhna frowned. Tracking game at night? Doubtful. She narrowed her eyes at Donn, surprised he’d been fooled by such a flimsy excuse, but her eldest son just tickled Aileran to elicit a giggle, oblivious to her regard.
Etromma had enough winters to wed, and she’d chosen who she wished. His family’s surprising reversal on her acceptance made Clíodhna suspicious, but if Etromma found a good place, she’d be content. Clíodhna just hoped that Tirechan didn’t toy with her affections. If that young man hurt Etromma, he’d have to answer for it.
Young love. Clíodhna remembered such bliss. Back when she’d first wed Oisinne, and he’d entertain her every evening with outlandish tales. Back when he’d made her body sing under the blankets, and they’d made love under the stars on summer nights. But the giddiness of young love faded into content and comfortable. The magic died into routine. That was a long time ago, and now her husband lay in a spelled sleep, so mad he became a danger to his family.
Some tales spoke of the madness. A human gets tricked into visiting Faerie, and when he’d returned, he’d lost all sense. Adhna said this hadn’t happened to Oisinne, but what if Adhna didn’t know? She didn’t want to blame the Fae for something that wasn’t their fault, but still, her mind and conscience craved a reason for Oisinne’s madness. Clíodhna wanted something to blame, some reason behind the change. Life didn’t always give reasons, but she still sought one.
With another rueful glance toward the roundhouse,
