“How does that even work if it was only a couple years here?”
“Time moves different in the Otherworld than back home.”
“Okay.” Cillian would figure that strangeness out later. “I thought witches and Fae were at war?”
“We are.”
Cillian looked at Niamh. “If that’s the case, then what was the proof?”
“The Cailleach would not consort with witches,” Niamh said flatly.
“They said she did or made it seem like she would. And who knowsif that witch was a pet or there of his own free will. So why would the Dagda make that accusation?”
Niamh’s fingers dug into her arms, knuckles going white. “Because the Dagda could not stomach that his wife found enjoyment in someone else’s bed.”
“An affair?” Bran scoffed in disbelief. “He destroyed your Winter Court because he was having marital problems?”
“The Mórrígan was hand-fasted to the Dagda, though they are not mates. They made a vow to each other for political reasons between their Houses. She broke it in secret when she found her mate in the Cailleach’s son, Finn, and had a babe, who grew up in the Winter Court.” Niamh’s gaze slid to Cillian, the intensity of it making her eyes burn. “The Cailleach was the Winter Court’s queen, even after she stepped aside. Your House was royal. When the Dagda finally discovered you were also of the Mórrígan’s blood after five hundred and thirteen years, he wanted you dead to hurt her.”
Cillian stared at her. “I’m not half a millennium old. I’m twenty-five. I’ll be twenty-six on?—”
“Winter Solstice,” Niamh cut in. Cillian snapped his teeth together, rattled that she knew. “That was when the Dagda attacked the Winter Court, during your celebration. We were not prepared for the purge that followed. He slew the royal family, most of the loyal courtiers, and trapped the Cailleach in stone. I was forced towatchas he—as he?—”
Niamh sucked in a breath that filled her entire lungs, letting it out through her clenched teeth. “He bade the witch use Chaos to steal your years and your memories. You became a babe—mortal, I thought—when he gave you to his right hand and had you taken to the wyrding to be left for dead.”
“Etain,” Bran murmured, his hands tightening around Cillian’s. “He gave you to Etain.”
Niamh nodded slowly. “The Mórrígan arrived too late to save you. She had been tasked with putting down an incursion of witches within the Summer Court’s borders. A diversion, in the end. When she saw the ruin of the Winter Court and discovered what the Dagda had done to her mate and you, she swore he would never have her heart and she would have her revenge. The Mórrígan fled beforehe could stop her. We all thought she went after you, to try to save you, but that the wyrding or the witches killed you both, for neither of you have been seen since. Until now.”
“You said the Dagda killed everyone?” Cillian asked, struggling to comprehend what she’d dropped on him like a bomb.
“Everyone royal. He left some courtiers alive. Myself. Your right hand. Others.”
“Wait. Cillian has one of these right hands? What exactly are they? Other than creepy fucks,” Bran said.
“They are a noble High Fae’s most trusted companion, their proxy when needed, their protector, shadows even unto death,” Niamh said. “It is a great honor to be chosen as one.”
Cillian arched an eyebrow. “And the Dagda left mine alive? That sounds incredibly stupid.”
“He gave Verlin to Medb when he gave the Queen of Air and Whispers your crown and throne in an attempt to authenticate her rule. Verlin had no choice but to agree because you were dead, and it kept his House alive and everyone else in Tech Duinn unharmed.” The strain on her face eased, lips curving into a faint smile. “He will be so pleased you have returned.”
“I don’t remember him, the same way I don’t remember you.”
She looked away, expression pinching, but didn’t argue his point. “If you were in the mortal world all this time, what made you return to the Otherworld?”
Cillian didn’t answer her, looking to Bran, because the whole reason they had gone into the forest in the first place was his to talk about. Bran finally let Cillian’s hand go with a sigh. “The lights in the wyrding came to Pelham and murdered my mother and stepfather. My little sister survived the attack but was kidnapped by a Fae lord soon after. I couldn’t stop him.”
“You must not be all that powerful for a witch.”
“I know my limits, and I know my strengths,” Bran snapped. “I’m not strong enough to go up against a Fae lord who was like a god with just witchmarks.”
Niamh narrowed her eyes at him. “There are no gods in the Otherworld. They left us long ago.”
“Yeah? Whoever that Fae lord was, he was powerful.”
“Then how did you survive?”
“I don’t know.”
