It must’ve been a while since a male had passed through. If it weren’t for Áine’s possessiveness, there would be no hope of me getting any rest.
“Since I haven’t the energy for much else,” I said, setting the empty basket on the grass, “I suppose a story will have to satisfy you tonight.”
A few faeries groaned, but most looked pleased.
This was how I’d spent much of my childhood: breathing in the smoky smell of a bonfire, listening to ancient stories passed down from generation to generation. My father had been an excellent storyteller, transforming himself into each character as he went along.
Before these curses, I had been able to change my face and form as well. Although I hadn’t been as talented at mimicking others as my father—or Rían.
“It’s been said that magic was born beneath the Airren hills,” I began, wiping my hands on my knees, dusting them in white sugar. “If you sit in just the right spot when the sun is setting, you can still see a faint glow rising from the emerald grass. The faeries were first to arrive, soaring on iridescent wings from neighboring islands, settling in the trees of the lushest forests. Then came the others, ancient ones without names, searching for freedom. For centuries, our ancestors lived in relative harmony. Justice was swift and absolute. Peace reigned from coast to coast.”
I had been born at the end of that peaceful century, when my father, a fae prince, had married the witch Bronagh. I spent my youth in blissful ignorance among the faeries and pooka and grogochs.
“Hundreds of years later, boats landed on our shores, carrying strange beings without magic flowing in their veins. Most were kind, learning to live and work alongside the Danú. When their king heard of our riches, he sent an army wielding iron weapons to claim them, along with our land.”
I’d been six years old when I met my first human, my magic still untried and untested. He had been a captain in the king’s army whose regiment had moved into a nearby town. Ruairi had convinced me to come with him to see their bright red uniforms and shiny swords. I had been intrigued by the way they spoke, their language strange and unfamiliar. So intrigued that I’d gotten too close to their encampment.
When the captain caught me, he dragged me to a platform in the center of the camp where two pooka and a leprechaun swung from ropes. I had been so terrified that I pissed myself. I tried to speak to him, to tell him I hadn’t meant any harm. If he understood a word I said, it hadn’t mattered. He had narrowed his cold blue eyes, called me a monster, and impaled me with his iron sword.
The blow hadn’t killed me, but it had been close.
“One burst of power would’ve killed them all,” I said, watching Keelynn as she listened. “But what of the innocents? The children? Those we had married? Those who had become part of our world instead of trying to steal it?
“The Danú and their leader refused, and it cost us our island.”
I’d chosen this tale specifically for the human watching me from across the fire, flames reflected in her wide eyes. I don’t know why it mattered so much for Keelynn to hear our side of this story. For her to understand what we’d been forced to endure. But it did.
“The Vellanian king slaughtered our leaders, those who were most powerful, ultimately taking control andgiftingus a tiny patch of land in the northwest as a sign of goodwill.”Gifting. As if the land had been his to give in the first place.
“They expected us to keep to that land or follow laws created to make us ‘equal’ to humans. Laws that made practicing magic illegal. Laws meant to keep us from fighting back. Laws that stole the lives of our mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers.”
The faeries’ heads bobbed. Murmurs of agreement lifted with sparks from the blazing fire.
In showing mercy, my father had condemned our people to the shadows. Unlike many of my fellow Danú, I didn’t believe humans should be punished for what their ancestors had done. The ones who had themselves committed atrocities, sure. But hurting innocent people didn’t fix anything.
All we wanted was true equality that didn’t come at the expense of who we were.
I opened my mouth to say as much just as I heard hooves thundering from the forest at my back. My eyes found Keelynn’s. With her weak human senses, she wouldn’t know what approached.
But I did.
And I was dreading it already.
17
“Why areye wasting the night listening to this old bollocks drone on about the past?” Ruairi called from the trees. “I thought it was the fourth of the month.”
Of all the feckin’ days for him to show—
Áine shrieked, jolted to her feet, and ran for Ruairi and Cormac.
Keelynn’s face paled.
Twin flashes lit up the night, leaving my mate and his friend in their human forms.
Ruairi’s nose lifted and eyes glowed, golden orbs searching the gathered crowd. In a blink, he’d evanesced to Keelynn’s side. “What do we have here? A pretty little human has decided to join our soiree?” he drawled. “Who invited you, pet?”
His hand reached out, but before his fingers connected with Keelynn’s hair, I was at his side, blade in hand, pressing the tip to his thick neck. “Touch her and I’ll send you to the underworld.”