“Good morning, Eava.”
She whipped around, the wooden spoon in her other hand clattering to the ground. “What’s got my boy smilin’ like a cat with all the cream?”
All I had to do was show her my left hand to send the old witch into a fit of shrieking and bone-shattering hugs. “I knew I liked her,” she gushed, squeezing tighter. “Knew it all along.”
“You haven’t even met her,” I managed with what air remained in my lungs. After breakfast, I’d remedy that. Eava had been like a mother to me for centuries. Keelynn was going to love her.
“Any girl who convinces the likes of ye to marry her twice must be worth her weight in gold.” She lifted onto her toes, peering over my shoulder, as if she expected Keelynn to magically appear.
“My wife is still abed.”
The old witch laughed, giving my cheek a pat with her calloused hand. “There’s a good lad. She’ll be needing brekkie when she wakes. What does yer darling wife like?”
What did Keelynn like to eat for breakfast? I’d never asked, just shifted whatever was available. “I don’t know.” I obviously would’ve asked but hated the thought of waking her when she slept so soundly, her soft snores like a morning bird’s call.
Eava gave a brusque nod, dragged out one of the stools at the high butcher block table in the center of the kitchen, and gave the top a pat. The herbs she’d dried from hooks on the ceiling’s dark beam now lived in jars displayed an arm’s length away.
In no time at all, Eava handed me a tray of toast and eggs, savory bacon, and fresh apple slices, shifting a silver lid for the lot to keep it warm.
Before I could thank her, she shoved me toward the door. “Take care of yer wife.”
“Don’t worry,” I smirked. “I plan to.” At least twice before my meeting at noon to discuss next month’s shipment from the continent.
I brought the tray through the hallway and out into the bright courtyard. A small, niggling part of me worried the light of day would bring regret, but I squashed that down as far as it would go. Keelynn may not love me yet, but I was fairly certain I loved her enough for the both of us. And if I could make her happy . . . Well, happiness was its own kind of love, wasn’t it?
A few early risers milled about the courtyard. I returned their nods and waves with a smile. Birds flew overhead, unaffected by the magical wards. Distant waves crashed. Had the laurels always been this green? Had the flowers growing in the center of the maze always been this vibrant? It felt as if my life until now had been muted, my vision cloudy and gray. Keelynn had stripped all of that away, bringing color and light into the world.
I set the tray on the edge of the fountain and shifted one of the small tables from the castle, along with two chairs. With my heart singing, I approached my bed, took hold of the emerald-green curtains, and drew them aside.
The bed was empty save a tangle of sheets and pillows and the note I’d left for Keelynn. She’d probably gone into the castle.
At least that’s what I told my racing heart.
I called on my magic, prepared to evanesce, when I heard a familiar gasp. Not in the direction of the castle but at the gates. I found my wife outside the wards, hands braced on her knees, breaths sawing in and out as the breeze ruffled her loose hair.
“Keelynn?” I touched her shoulder, and she jerked away.
“Why did you kill them?” she choked, accusation in her wide eyes.
Kill them? Kill whom?
“You have an entire room full of dead bodies!” she cried, tears gathering along her dark lashes.
Dammit.
Had she found them, or had someone told her? That was the sort of thing Rían would do. If he couldn’t be happy, no one could. Not that it mattered now. “You know who I am. You know what I’ve done. I’ve already told you—”
She threw a hand toward the castle. “Did all of those women force you to kiss them?”
“No. They didn’t.” Some, but not all. Not that it mattered. All of their deaths were on my hands. “Clara McNulty was a whore. Her life was shit, and she still had three years left in her contract.” In that line of work, three years may as well have been thirty. “I kissed her so that she could be free. Orla Crowley was a fool and fancied herself in love with me. You see how that turned out.” The glamoured barmaid from the Green Serpent and I had been friends forever. She’d mistaken her lust for love. Something that happened far more often than anyone would expect. “The barmaid from the Black Rabbit thought it’d be worth it. It wasn’t. The innkeeper from Newtown refused to let me leave the room. And you already know about Marina.”
“What about Áine?”
Right. Áine. I explained to Keelynn about our arrangement, and what the wicked faerie had threatened. And then I took a deep breath and told her the truth of my depravity.
“In two hundred and fifty years, there have been seven hundred and eight-eight bodies in those coffins.” Seven hundred and eighty-eight women. All cursed because of me. Most of them humans who didn’t have years to waste. “I’ve tasted their last breaths. Held them in my arms as their souls left their bodies. Watched the light of life vanish from their eyes. And I remember every single one.”
“Do you remember me?” The high voice sent chills down my spine. Dread stabbed my chest. Although I hadn’t heard that voice in two hundred and fifty years, I knew who she was.