The maze was dark, so Clare used the flashlight feature on her phone to lead the way.
“You amaze me, Fairy Queen,” Griffin said. “Does that box also serve as a candle?”
“It does, but I don’t know the way like you do,” Clare said.
“I know ashortcut to the garden gazebo,” Griffin said, limping and taking the lead. “Let’s take it. I want to see the new Irish spring firsthand.”
They turned a sharp corner into a darkened alcove. He reached up and pushed aside a round stone, exposing a beam of light from above. He grabbed the rungs of a fire-escape ladder and lowered it.
Clare climbed to the top of the ladder and crawledinto a small chamber with a tiny window. A wooden bedframe lay on the floor, covered with a stretched piece of leather.
“What’s this?” She looked up at the window. It reminded her of the dreary windows of light at the Kilmainham Gaol. “Who was imprisoned here?”
“No one,” Griffin said, sitting down on the bed. “This was my hiding place. Whenever Grandfather and Pierce jammed too manymemories into me, and I couldn’t process it all, I’d come here and lie on the cot. I’d look at the sunlight and let the memories sift through my mind, separating truth from fiction.”
“Did it work?” Clare sat down next to him. Maybe this was the breakthrough she’d been waiting for, and he finally realized he was not in the twelfth century creeping down the corridors with a Fairy Queen.
“It got me away from all the voices shouting at me.” He rested his chin on his knuckles. “Remember this. Do that. You must memorize these. You have a duty to do. Here is the list.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through.” Clare placed her hand on Griffin’s thigh. “Are you hurt badly?”
“It’s just a scratch, and it’s not even bleeding anymore,” Griffin said, putting his armaround her. “I’m more concerned with you. I didn’t know what I’d find when I came in the bedchamber. Did they hurt you?”
“Are you remembering what happened to me?” Clare peered at Griffin’s face and saw glimmers of recognition.
He slapped the side of his head. “I don’t know why that thought came to me, that you were in danger. Did my friends capture you? How did you end up in thebedchamber?”
“You’re starting to remember your last life,” Clare said, grasping his hands. “I spent the past few days with you, and then yes, Seamus kidnapped me from under a fairy mound and brought me here.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered as if fighting voices in his head. “How is it possible for Seamus to capture a goddess? Or were you talking about the skeleton. My dearBrigid, do you have the memories of the changeling, too?”
“I might.” Clare twisted her lips and swallowed bitter disappointment. “But thanks to you, dear Griffin, you fought for me and you won.”
“We sure did. Me and you, forever.” He picked up the gemstone from her chest. “The Heart of Brigid. You. The new Ireland. We traveled back to the twelfth century before the Norman invasion.We freed the fairy folk and that means you are my Brigid. My true and everlasting love.”
Clare forced a smile on her face and nodded. “Yes, yes. I promise you, everything will be all right. Everything. The garden will be glorious with life. Your castle shimmering in the light mist. The sun shining, and the sky a powder blue with sweet, fluffy clouds. Let’s go see.”
She needed toget him above ground, and hopefully to his grandfather before Seamus and Mack found out they were chasing fake fairies.
Griffin opened the window and hoisted Clare over the windowsill. A spiral staircase led upward. She had to turn her feet sideways and partially pull herself up by the handrails around the spiral staircase which led to a circle of standing stones.
Her skirt clungto her behind, and her thigh muscles burned. Griffin would be getting an eyeful if it weren’t for the relative darkness.
She should care, but her heart was weighed down by lead. She was tricking him again, acting like she was the goddess Brigid he was supposed to bring back.
Wire figures of butterflies and dragonflies decorated the wrought iron benches surrounding the stones, andthe garden bloomed with fragrant color. Green buds uncurled from the branches of the trees, and tiny birds chirped and flittered among the renewed greenery.
“We’re home,” Griffin said, raising both hands and letting the sun beam over his face. “Éirinn go Brách.”
