When they finally parted, neither spoke. She kept her hands on his chest, and he kept his arm around her as they stood quietly beneath the trees while the night settled around them. He pressed his lips to her forehead and held them there, eyes closed, feeling the solid and impossible fact of her. He had come to Islay for Heilyn. He had not come for this. But standing here with Ailith Grant tucked against him in the darkness, he could not find it in himself to call it anything other than what it was, the first right thing that had happened to him in a very long time.
But he also knew something else.
Standing outside a faery hill, watching this lass go inside, into the unknown, in search of his daughter, would probably destroy him. Would he have the strength to watch Ailith go in without him? It was as if a mallet struck him square in the chest. What if Ailith went in and never returned?
He’d lose both of them. His dearest daughter and Ailith could be locked in an unknown world, and he’d have no idea how to get to either of them. That thought was nearly too much to bear.
She’d planted a hook in him, and he suspected it had been there long before tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ailith
Morning came too quickly. They reached the faery hill as the dawn light turned golden. Edan and Arne had joined them, but they’d said little to each other, Ailith afraid any words would betray her true feelings. They found a clearing a short distance from the faery hill, gathering to clarify their plan before approaching the bogle, who had not yet arrived.
She stood at the edge of the group, the damp chill of the faery hill seeping through her tunic. The others spoke in low voices around her, but their words were lost to her. Her mind was still caught somewhere in the dark of the previous evening, in the brief press of Edan’s mouth against hers and the silence that had followed, a silence that somehow said more than the kiss. She had spent six and twenty summers being careful, and a few special moments had undone her completely.
Her gaze found him across the circle without meaning to, and she discovered he was already watching her, as if he’d never stopped. She loved the way his brown hair curled at his collar, his beard a bit of stubble this day, enhancing his looks. There was never a chance to speak alone, not with Dyna beside her and the men gathered tightly around Magni, and yet something passed between them, something that did not need words. She was afraid of what the day held. She had been afraid since the moment they’d stepped onto this island.
But underneath the fear, steady as a heartbeat, was the memory of the night before. She pressed her palm flat against her side and forced herself to breathe. She had not imagined it. He had not looked away first.
Lia pointed to the warriors. “You need to stay back. Do not threaten the bogle for any reason, or the hill will close up, regardless of whether John and Ailith have returned. You mustuse restraint. But you need to be nearby in case something arises. The same applies to any archers.” Her small stature did not deceive them. Most of them knew the power she held.
“Ailith and John will approach with Dyna, me, and Edan. We will offer the banshee hairs. Edan will cut his palm to offer his blood. Only five of us will approach: Edan, Ailith, John, Dyna, and I. No one else.”
Alasdair crossed his arms. “Two of my bairns are going, I’m going.”
“Give your sword to your wife then.” Lia’s chin lifted, and they all knew she wouldn’t budge on that demand. Her father capitulated with a growl and handed his beloved weapon to Emmalin.
Lia moved over to speak privately with Dyna and the warriors, so Ailith took the opportunity to step away for a quiet moment to gather her thoughts. A few moments later, she was about to return when a woman with golden wings stepped from the shadow of the hill as if she had always been there.
“Ailith, greetings to you again. I’m so pleased you have come to Islay.”
The faerie queen appeared smaller than she recalled at Duart. Fae queens in the old stories stood ten feet tall with fire in their eyes, but this one looked like a woman who had been tired for a very long time. She pressed both hands around Ailith’s and held them.
“You are the right one,” she said. “I knew it when I first saw you. A piece of advice for you, lass. Do not forget your stones. You are not just a seer, but a stone singer. Grandmama Maddie tells you to find more stones.”
An ache in her throat at the mention of her beloved grandmother brought tears to her eyes, but she had work to do, so she swiped them away quickly.
Erena kissed her cheek, then stood back to stare at her. Her green eyes, an odd, mesmerizing shade like the forest in moonlight, held Ailith captive, but the queen said nothing more. She turned, walked back into the shadow, and the forest swallowed her.
Ailith stood there, the warmth of those hands still on hers, turning the words over,stone singer.She considered all of her words, searching for what lay beneath. Notbe careful. Notcome back safely. Only that she was the right one.
She filed it away and turned toward the hill, her hand palming the stone in the fold in her tunic. She’d donned her tunic and leggings for this task, knowing she had to be able to move quickly.
Ailith took the spot next to John, his sapphire sword sheathed across his back. Her father stood behind them, Dyna positioned next to Ailith, as Lia approached the hill.
“Gruin, we’re waiting for you.”
The hill grew in front of them. Ailith swore her trembling grew at the same rate. How tall would it grow this time?
“Patience,” Lia whispered, doing her best to calm everyone. John’s eyes were as wide as Ailith’s, but her father’s eyes gave away nothing, seasoned warrior that he was.
As soon as the hill stopped moving, a door appeared. Gruin stepped out, closing it behind him before crossing his arms. He wore gloves that covered his long fingers. Or talons? Ailith had no idea. He sneered, his mouth pulling back to reveal an alarming number of teeth, more than Ailith had ever seen.
Ailith took in every detail she could: hair the color of rusted iron, going silver at the roots; hands buried in dark gloves; feet that tapered too thin; and clothing assembled from whatever he’d found, a shirt of mismatched patches, trousers in jarring stripes of red and purple. His face appeared human, but whenhe grinned, his teeth banished any idea of a normal person, someone who belonged to neither the Seelie nor Unseelie.
“Do you have my banshee hairs?” He crossed his arms, flipping back the unkempt mop that had fallen into his eyes.
