She turned to her former Consort. “That may be true, but for now, Adhna stands by my side. You are not welcome in my court, Bodach. Go back to your fortress. And have a care if you decide to betray me again. I shall not be so gracious.” Her predecessor had held unquestionable power, but Clíodhna grasped at strings, hoping to hold her net in place before it unraveled. Strength and confidence was the only weapon she had left to wield.
He glowered at each of them, but when he returned his gaze to her, his eyes narrowed. “Have a care yourself, my Queen.” These last two words he hissed with exaggerated care. “The people you care about do not all live under your protection.”
Before she reacted to his obvious threat, he vanished. She bolted to her feet. “How can he do that in my very court? I thought none could perform such magic in my seat of power?” She turned to Adhna in question, but he shook his head.
“Bodach still has great power, my Queen. I warned you of this. A defeat in battle didn’t diminish such power, not by a considerable degree. He just sent you a very strong warning and a very real challenge.”
She sat back on her throne, the chill in her blood surging. Etromma, Donn, Aileran, Rumann, and now Odhrán. They all remained unprotected. Sure, she had Grian’s assurance and whatever protection she might offer but her power remained severely limited in the mortal realm.
She drew in a deep breath. “I must go back, Adhna. I must protect them.”
His eyes turned sad. “You remember you can only go back once, right?”
Clíodhna closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I remember. Many winters have passed, and I need to see my children again. I need to do what I can.”
“I have some advice, if you will heed it.”
She raised her eyebrows, awaiting his suggestion.
He cleared his throat. “When you return, live alone for a time before you seek your family out. Living in Fae is… habit forming. The mortal world can be a shock.”
While shaking her head, Clíodhna clenched her fists. “I need to go back to protect those I love, Adhna.”
“I can protect them for a while longer. Go to a place on your own for some time. Work the favor Grian asked of you. Otherwise you may make mistakes you cannot fix.”
She recognized the wisdom in his words. “Very well. Thank you.”
Grimnaugh cleared his throat. “What about your throne, my Queen?”
She glanced around the great hall. Only a handful of courtiers remained. Her petitions had grown fewer once she fought with Bodach, as many of the incursions had been from his loyal followers. “I will appoint a Regent while I’m gone. I will return, hopefully soon.”
She glanced at Gabha, and then at Cerul, who stepped up next to the War Chief. “Will you two be willing to work as co-Regents in my absence? You should be able to send messages to me if needed, but I trust you both to have the common sense and strength to withstand pressure from the likes of Bodach.”
With a glance to the other Fae, Gabha nodded. “I will serve as you request, my Queen. May we keep your assistant, Grimnaugh? Much of the court etiquette is a mystery to all, but he seems to be the key to each detail.”
She grinned down at the frog-like Fae. “Will you help my co-Regents, my friend?”
“Only if you promise me one thing, my Queen.”
“If it’s within my power to grant, it’s yours.”
“When you return, may I leave the court?”
She felt like he’d punched her in the gut. “Are you so unhappy in your position? Have I mistreated you?”
He held up his hands, and his eyes grew wide. “No, no, my Queen! You’ve been kind to me. But I need a rest. The events have worn me out, and I must be away from the court for a while. I shall return, but not yet.”
“It seems we both need a rest. Very well. I so grant your leave. And you, Adhna? Will you ask for leave as well?”
He nodded. “I tire more easily than before my ordeal, my love. But I must come with you to the mortal realm for your task. You are still in need of teaching.” His eyes twinkled at the last, and she returned his grin.
* * *
The world looked unchanged and different at the same time. After so long in Faerie, the mortal realm seemed muted and mundane, filled with mud and bugs.
As per Adhna’s suggestion, Clíodhna set up a small shelter near the beach, not too far from the shore where she grew up. The small roundhouse proved sufficient shelter from the summer storms, and she spent some time reliving her youth. Her body had grown older with aches and pains in the mortal world, but her time in Faerie and the seashore invigorated her spirit.
She’d always reveled in being alone. Despite her longing for male company, she spent her days swimming in the salty sea. Eventually, some larger residents, dolphins, came to find who swam in their realm. Their chittering inquiries sounded incomprehensible to her, but they would play with her in the waves. They offered no judgment, no intrigue, and no danger. They demanded nothing from her but her laughter, a wage more readily gifted each day.
Years of worry and stress slipped away as she swam with the dolphins.
As she healed her own soul, she healed the ocean. Adhna, before he left, showed her what she must do to correct the sickness. Human waste from such a large community of men poisoned the water below, and it harmed the sea life. She couldn’t destroy the waste, but she could disperse it into the wider ocean, diminishing its harmful effects. He
