Page 49 of A Legacy of the Light

Given I don’t have as much time as I anticipated in the library, I go and find Finneus. He’s in the same spot he was earlier, hunched over his desk, poring over a book that looks to be at least twice his age.

“Hey, Finneus, sorry to disturb you. I was hoping you could help me with something?”

He looks at me, his glasses sliding to the end of his nose before he pushes them back up. “Not at all, dear. How can I help?”

“I noticed that there isn’t much written about the rebels. When they first attacked, and how they corrupted the magic. Why is that?”

“Well, the king requested everything we have on the Dorche when he ascended the throne. They’re kept in his private quarters. And the truth is, we don’t know how they have corrupted their magic. And we wouldn’t want what they did to be common knowledge. Any information like that will likely be sealed away or not documented. We only know the magic rots and corrupts them. Those that first wielded the Dorche magic are nothing but husks now.”

“Are they dead?” I ask.

A haunted look crosses his expression, the first negative emotion I’ve seen him display. “They may as well be.” His tone is dark.

“What do you mean?” I ask hesitantly.

“They’re no longer themselves, Elsie. The dark magic takes the very essence of them and leaves them just a shell of who they used to be. They no longer resemble Seelie, and cannot be killed. They answer only to the Dorche. They’re called Brollachan. Where they go, death follows,” Finneus tells me in a hushed voice.

“Why do Seelie keep joining them if they know that’s how they will end up?”

“Most are forced. Taken when the Dorche invade towns and villages. Some join for power. Their magic is far stronger than that of the Aotrom. But there’s a reason it is so. We cannot sustain it.”

“Why does the king keep that information?” I prompt.

“He conducts his own research, and has done for a long time. We know little about the Dorche. I have gleaned this information from those who have escaped them. The Dorche attacks are swift, violent, and effective. Very few have stood against them and lived. Our prince is one of them.” Finneus has a far-off look on his face, as if reliving a memory.

“I was here,” he whispers, “when they came to the palace that day. I brought as many people as I could to the library and sealed thirty of us inside until the threat was over.”

I want to reach out and take his hand. His shoulders slump forward, curling in on himself.

“I couldn’t reach any of the royal family in time. If I had . . .” He can’t finish the sentence, and my heart breaks for him.

“The fact you saved even one life is more than enough, Finneus,” I say to comfort him, but knowing I can’t lessen his guilt.

“It’s not enough. I lost my wife that day. She was in the throne room,” he whispers so softly, I almost don’t hear him.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur around the lump in my throat. I can’t imagine how he feels, to have saved so many lives but not the one person who meant the most to him.

This is a side to the kind librarian that I haven’t seen. Finneus strikes me as a glass-half-full kind of person. It’s a stark reminder that we don’t always see what’s below the face people choose to present. I am a master of that, and it looks like Finneus is, too.

“Thank you, my dear. It was a long time ago.” Finneus shakes his head, releasing a little breath, as if he’s chasing the memories and sadness away.

“You’ll find few Seelie who know much about the Dorche, and even fewer who are prepared to discuss it. Tavish instructed me to share as much as I can with you, to help you understand our world.”

“And I appreciate everything you’ve helped me with,” I tell him.

We pause for a minute, me absorbing the information shared, and Finneus expelling the ghosts of his past.

“I can’t understand why the king would be so open to sharing all of this information with me,” I comment aloud, and trace the shape of the pendant through my shirt absentmindedly.

“What’s that?” Finneus asks, ignoring my musings.

Can I trust him? Only King Raghnall and Tavish know I have the Craobh. Given all that I have learnt about it, I don’t want to advertise the fact I have it. The king clearly wants it for himself, although Tavish has shown little interest in it.

Finneus waits patiently while I make my choice.

“It was a gift from my Grandpa,” I whisper, checking there is no one around us before showing him the pendant with the royal emerald in its center.

For the first time since I met Finneus, he has nothing to say. He simply stares at the Craobh Beatha in my cupped hand with slightly rounded eyes. If I wasn’t so alarmed by his expression, I might have laughed.