Martineth studied Cecelia, eyes a swirl of sunshine and heat.
“I assume you have reported the birth of this child?” the Faerie challenged.
“Of course, Lady Martineth,” Leon said with respect.
To fail reporting a Dightheach child would mean death to its parents. Everyone with magical blood was expected to serve.
After another long stare at Cecelia and more greedy gazing at the child, the consort tapped her sharp chin. An ominous expression crossed her face, as if an idea were hatching.
“I can see why you are attached to the child.” The consort leered at the couple and walked a slow circle around them, glimmering hair falling in waves down her back. “She is a thing of beauty.” Martineth stopped in front of Cecelia and peered down at the baby. “Beautiful things have a way of disappearing in the night.”
The threat bolted through Cecelia with swift understanding. Her knees threatened to buckle as Leon spoke with hardened care.
“What is it that you wish from us, my Lady?”The consort chuckled. “I have a future mate for her—a binding which will greatly please the King.”
As a proud, wicked grin enhanced the Faerie’s fiery eyes, a burden of dread settled onto Cecelia’s shoulders for her daughter’s future. A future which was now as good as sealed.
THE END OF HIGH school was bittersweet. My sister and I drove home in the dark from a graduation party to our house in Great Falls, Virginia, a woodsy town of hills and cliffs nestled between cities of concrete. I was so glad to have Cassidy. Even now she sensed my mood as I pulled into our driveway and cut the engine. I stared absently at the porch swing illuminated by the motion-censored light. We’d shared years of secrets on that wooden swing.
“Tonight was fun, huh?” Cass asked carefully.
I nodded. “Yeah. Fun, but… weird too.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. And then to cheer me she added, “I can’t believe the graduating football players streaked. I did not need to see all that. My ears still hurt from everyone screaming.”
I snorted.
I’d made some great friends, especially my soccer teammates, but I couldn’t tell them about my family or the Fae, or the real reason I was going to Ireland tomorrow while they were all headed for post-graduation Beach Week.
“I can’t believe it’s time for you to go already.” Cassidy stared at the house. “No more sneaking to D.C. with my big sis and glamouring ourselves in fancy dresses.” I had to smile at the memory. We hadn’t bothered doing our hair or make-up that night. We used our magical glamour to sneak into a club and make us look done up. We’d been exhausted after an hour of dancing from the effort of keeping up fake appearances.
I took her hand and my heart tightened with our inevitable separation.
“Let’s not get sad,” I told her. “Come on.”
It was midnight when we let ourselves in. Mom and Dad’s luggage sat next to the door, ready to go. Our parents lounged on the couch, Dad reading. If this were a normal night they’d have been in bed hours ago. Mom had apparently been reading, too, but had fallen asleep with her head on his lap and a book on her chest. At the sound of our footsteps, she sat up and pushed back her dark hair.
“There’s my girls,” Dad said, jovial despite the late hour. He put his book on the coffee table. “Tell us all about the party.”
We sat on the couch across from them.
“It was okay,” I told him, trying to hide my sadness.
Tension crowded around us. We were all probably thinking the same thing: This is our last night with me at home. How weird. I didn’t want to think about it. Mom, ever the peacemaker, cleared her throat.
“You said good-bye to all your friends then?” She’d been away from her homeland of Ireland for twenty years but her voice still held a soft lilt and inflection, which I’d always envied.
“Yeah,” I said.
Cassidy stretched her mouth wide for a loud yawn, not bothering to cover her mouth. It was contagious—I yawned next, then Mom.
“Look at my tired girls. We should call it a night,” Dad said. “Big day tomorrow. Thankfully we can sleep on the plane, huh?”
Nervousness tightened around me like twine.
“I hope you both finished packing,” Mom said.
“Mine is pretty much done,” I told her. “I just have to bring it down.”
“Mine’s almost done,” Cass said, yawning again.
Mom shook her head and focused on me. “How are you, Robyn? Are you ready for this?”
I gave her a reassuring smile, despite the tightening sensation. “I’m fine. Ready to see what Ireland has in store for me.”
“Well, come here.” Dad stood, tall and imposing, and opened his arms. The four of us huddled together for a group hug. Mom was shorter than me now. I’d outgrown her last year, and it still felt strange to be the tallest female in the embrace.
We said our goodnights, and then shuffled upstairs. I stood in my bedroom feeling a wave of nostalgia. This room held so many memories. Would I be back again to see the rows of trophies on the shelves? Everything from t-ball to All-State Soccer and this year’s Girls’ Varsity Soccer MVP. Two large corkboards were tacked full of pictures, ticket stubs for movies, school dances, and sporting events, even a few newspaper snippets about my teams.
I went to my walk-in closet and pulled out the familiar, large plastic storage bin. I placed the bin next to my luggage at the foot of my bed, then sat down cross-legged on the carpet and opened it.