A small pop, and she was ripped free of her body, her spirit hovering above the fairy circle.
Some wish,Mary grumbled. She wasn’t supposed to die, for God’s sake. That was her last thought before her spirit was torn through the fairy circle and across to the other side.
Mary opened her eyes and saw a tiny man, about the length of her forearm, staring at her with an appreciative smirk. He wore clothes that blended into the surrounding grasses, and he propped his elbow against one of the stones. A leprechaun? No, she had to be dreaming.
“You’re a fetching one, aren’t you?” he remarked. “He’s going to like you.”
Mary wasn’t sure what the little man was talking about, but when she glanced down, she saw that she was completely naked. “Oh, my God.” She rolled on to her chest and looked around frantically for her clothes.
“They’re not there. You can’t exactly bring clothes with you, once you’re dead. Or, partly dead, in your case.”
“Partly dead?” She scrambled around for some vegetation but only came up with a daffodil or two. And she could just imagine what it would look like to have flowers plastered across her bum.
“Indeed.” The man nodded towards the ring of mushrooms, which was nearby. “You made a wish, before you were taken. That’s what saved you.”
“Somehow, I’m pretty sure that I’m asleep on the tour bus, and I’m going to wake up.” Mary glared at the man. “You’re probably going to tell me you’re a leprechaun and you’re looking for your Lucky Charms.”
He shrugged. “Not a leprechaun. My name is Kevan, and I am one of the Daoine Sídhe.”
The Deena She? Who? Play along, Mary. You’re dreaming anyway. What’s the harm?
“You wished for someone to love you and for a family.” Kevan rubbed his beard, staring at her. “A powerful wish, love is. And it holds the power to save you. You have three days to fall in love and make him love you in return.”
“What do you meanhim?”
“The man you wished for. He’ll be arriving shortly. And when the sun rises on the third day, you’ll either get your wish . . .”
“Or?”
“Or you’ll die, Mary Samson. And this time, it’s for ever.”
Ireland, 1173
Cian MacCorban was a man who trusted his instincts. Though some would accuse him of being ruled by his dreams, he knew differently. They weren’t dreams; they were realities yet to occur. Too often, the visions came upon him without warning. And every last one had come true.
Even the deaths.
That was the cursed part of the Sight. He saw friends, family members, knowinghowthey would die. But notwhen.Never that. He hadn’t known that a death was about to happen until it was too late.
His people feared him, and most had abandoned him. His ring fort was falling apart, and he no longer cared. What did it matter, when he was nearly the only one left?
Cian mounted his horse, preparing to ride out. He let the horse lead, opening his mind to the vision he’d seen again last night. A woman’s face, her honey-blonde hair cut short to her shoulders. Intelligent grey eyes and an uncertain smile. For so many years, he’d hoped this vision would come true: the woman who was meant for him.
He’d seen the morning sun rising through the circle of standing stones. One day, she would be there. For ten years, he’d ridden out to the circle, hoping to find her. But when he glanced behind him, he sensed that evenshewould not want a man like him. A man cursed with visions of death.
It was easier to be naked in public if you had a tiny waist and a perfectly toned body. Mary had neither of these, and it was her own fault for avoiding the gym. Kevan, the man of the Daoine Sídhe, had vanished some time ago, and she was left trying to decide what to do. She couldn’t exactly make clothes out of the grass, and there weren’t any palm leaves lying around either.
Before long, she heard hoof beats approaching. Mary dived behind one of the standing stones, trying to hide what she could of her body. A man was on horseback, likely a historical re-enactor, given his simple clothing and the blue cloak fastened with a brooch. His blond hair was unkempt, hanging across his shoulders. His dark blue eyes were tired, like a man who hadn’t slept in years.Though he was tall and handsome, it was the bleakness that held her attention.
When he started to walk towards her, she held out her hand. “Wait! Don’t come any closer. I don’t have any . . . that is, I’m not wearing – Oh, damn it, just stay where you are.”
He startled, as though he were trying to puzzle out her words. “You’re real. Not a dream.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Instead, she pleaded, “I’m in a bit of trouble here. Could you please throw me your cloak?”
Without questioning her, he unfastened his cloak and threw it. It fell slightly short, but Mary eased it towards herself with one foot. Only when she’d covered herself from neck to ankle, did she step out from behind the standing stone.
“Thank you,” she said. “I wish I had an explanation for why I’m not wearing any clothes, but the truth is, I’m not sure how I got here. Am I still in Ireland?”
