Page 16 of Enchanted

“Frustrated by always having to mend my frail body when compared to the sturdiness of the fae folk, Oberon cast a spell, imbuing me with the powers of healing and death. He changed me, turning me into the male counterpart to the Celtic goddess Morrigan. I have not explored all the facets of magic he gifted me with, but I know I can heal, or take away life. The other fairies told me I could also manipulate the weather, the elements, and the minds of others, though I have never tried. I embody both life and death, creation and destruction, order and chaos.”

When he had finished with his confession, Keiran sank back against his chair, suddenly exhausted, waiting for his brothers to say something, anything. But they simply stared at him with a mixture of awe and confusion.

“Oberon did not take those powers away from you when you left Fairyland?” Alastair asked, breaking the silence.

“I do not think he remembered he had given them to me, or I am certain he would have. The other fairies tended to avoid me. They were jealous that I was considered a favoured son even though I was human. And the only times I ever used my powers in Fairyland was to heal myself, so not many might remember I even had them.”

“This is truly amazing, Keiran. With your powers we have an edge we did not possess before when fighting our enemies. Yet only you shall decide how it is to be used.” Alastair’s gaze was filled with awe for a moment before the look faded. “And though you were given this gift, it came at a terrible price, we now realise. You were alone for a long time, but no more.” Alastair reached out and placed his hand on Keiran’s arm. “You are a MacLeod, our family, our brother, and we love you.”

“You never had a chance to be a child?” Orrick’s gaze connected with Keiran’s. “You were forced into adulthood so quickly and were given not necessarily a gift, but a huge burden with your powers.”

“That explains the response the soldier had when you touched him,” Tormod said. “You were draining a bit of life from him with your hands.”

Keiran nodded. “It was not my intent to harm him in any lasting way. Only to get him to talk.”

“The man’s wounds, Rosalyn’s wounds—you healed them?” Alastair asked.

Again, Keiran nodded. “I could not let Rosalyn die on that battlefield. And the soldier possessed information I needed to try to keep her safe.” Keiran turned to look at Alastair. “Now that we know it was Rosalyn’s betrothed who order her death, what will you do with the soldier?”

“Our plans have not changed,” Orrick said. “Isolde and I will take him back to Dunshee Castle to be with the other English soldiers.”

“And what will happen to Rosalyn?” Keiran asked, hoping Alastair would allow her to stay. “She still needs to heal, and it is impossible for her to continue towards her betrothed and survive.”

“She can stay if she likes, Keiran. But she did not seem the kind of woman who would do well without a purpose for long,” Alastair said.

Keiran knew all too well what it felt like to not have a purpose. He would help her find one. He did not have to see into the future to know that if she left, death surely awaited her, especially in the arms of Lieutenant James Long.