“Could it have been the Disinherited mimicking Étaín’s voice?” he asked. “Might they have been playing tricks with your mind?”
“No.” She shook her head. “This time at the Stonehenge felt totally different than before. Far less sinister. It was peaceful and beautiful...just like the voice...the Goddess.” She met his eyes and bit her lower lip, fighting a fresh wave of sadness. “Everything she told me was true, Aidan. I just don’t understand all of that truth yet other than I...” God, saying it was so damn hard, but she kept going. “When I was a faery, I made Maeve...”
She struggled to push it past her lips but just couldn't. Not yet. It was too hard. Clearly sensing she needed a moment, he offered her food, but she shook her head, not at all hungry. So he handed her another skin and urged her to drink what turned out to be whisky, remaining patient as she gathered herself. She could tell by the look in his eyes he feared what she was about to say. What it might mean for them. And he was right to worry because it was downright life-altering. Terrible. Hard to imagine.
But it needed to be said, so she finally just blurted it out.
“Though I have no idea why, when I was a faery, I used my magic to ensure Maeve loved you.” She kept her eyes with his because he deserved it. “I’m so incredibly sorry.” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine why I would’ve done such a thing.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I must’ve been a monster.”
He seemed stunned for several moments before he finally spoke, not angry words but curious, rather calm ones.
“One must wonder what kind of monster wishes love on another,” he whispered. His gaze turned to the fire, the look in his eyes heartbreaking. “So, she never truly loved me?”
“Shedidlove you.” She wiped away another tear, feeling his pain like it was her own. “She just needed help getting there, I guess.”
What woman in her right mind wouldn’t have loved him right away? It made no sense. He was everything a girl could ask for. More, in her opinion.
“It was already too late, wasn’t it?” he said softly, his eyes on the fire, his tone so certain she knew his magic had picked up on something. That he saw the truth. “Her heart was already lost to Cray.”
While she knew he wondered if it would have been different had Maeve just gone to Hamilton Castle before MacLeod Castle, he didn’t voice it.
“Because it no longer matters.” His gaze returned to her. “Nor does what you did in another life when you were another creature entirely.” He touched her chin gently. “What matters is getting to the root of what put you in this darkness Étaín claimed you have come back from. And what made you lose your immortality as a faery.”
“’Tis a verra good question,” came a disembodied voice before Grant appeared, not young this time but old. He seemed to be part of the fire as it sizzled back to life.
“Aye,” another man agreed, manifesting in an ethereal state just beyond the flames. Somewhere in his fifties and well-built with white hair, white robes, and a gnarly cane, he was undoubtedly Tiernan’s father. He smiled at Chloe and nodded. “I’m Adlin. ’Tis verra nice to meet you, lass.”
Aidan’s brows swept up. “Since when can you astral project, Uncle?”
“’Tis a new perk.” Adlin looked skyward in thought. “Or mayhap an old one that found its way back to me with my cane and robe.” He sighed. “Not that it’s a sure thing nowadays with our magic fluctuating and all.” He waved it away. “But that is neither here nor there right now.” He gave them a pointed look. “What matters are the discoveries you two are, well, discovering.”
“Discoveries they are discovering?” Grant looked at Adlin in amusement. “Might that not be a wee bit redundant old friend?”
“Mayhap a wee bit,” Adlin conceded with a grin. “But what harm is there in a little repetition?”
“None,” Aidan interrupted. “Though mayhap ‘twould be best to chat about that later?”
“Aye,” Adlin agreed, growing serious before he grew quite curious, his gaze once again on Chloe. It seemed, like Grant, he was all caught up on things. “So you were once immortal then, as far as you know, you made sure Maeve loved Aidan then lost your immortality.”
“I don’t know that it happened like that,” she murmured, yet deep down, she knew he was right. It had happened precisely like that. “Wow,” she whispered, looking at Adlin as curiously as he looked at her. “How did you know that...then I knew that?”
“Because you knew it first.” A merry light lit his eyes. “You just didnae know you knew it until I said it and reminded you.”
Perplexed, she frowned. “Come again?”
“Och, nay, you dinnae want to promote another explanation, lass.” Grant chuckled. “Best to stay on course.”
Adlin arched a brow at Grant. “You make it sound like I’m long-winded.”
“Because you are.” Grant grinned. “But ‘tis half your charm.”
Adlin returned his grin. “Aye, then?”
“Uncle, might we focus on what you mean?” Aidan kicked in, clearly growing exasperated. Which was better than sad she supposed. She, in turn, was no longer saturated in grief but quite taken with Adlin. He had a way of lifting her spirits without intending to. Ordidhe intend to?
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Adlin looked at Aidan curiously before his gaze landed on Chloe and lit with awe. “Ah, that’s right. What do Imean?” He glanced from Aidan to her. “What I mean, to narrow it down, is that whatever you did to ensure Maeve loved Aidan, had long reaching effects on Clan MacLomain indeed.” He shot Grant an incredulous look. “In fact, you willnae believe just how long-reaching, my friend.”
