He held his breath until it exploded free of his lungs. With a growl, he threw his hands in the air. “Dammit! I canna do it, son. Are ye absolutely certain of what ye see?”
Keagan rubbed his forehead as though trying to spark an idea, then turned to Faolan and held out his hand. “Give me your hand, Da. This is a powerful glamour. Perhaps I can give ye the strength to see through it.” Keagan waited, holding out his small hand for Faolan to find the strength to trust himself to his son’s advice.
With one more look at the pitiful Ciara, Faolan fixed his gaze on his son’s determined face. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped Keagan’s small hand in his own, startling at the strange surge of energy that immediately jolted within his palm.
As a small smile of victory tugged at his lips, Keagan waved his other hand in front of the faux Ciara’s blank face. When he did this, Faolan saw what appeared to be a waterfall of colors tumbling through the air as the glamour shattered away.
A tiny wisp of a woman appeared on the bench, her bones so fine and delicate, Faolan feared the late autumn breeze would spirit her away. Her hair floated as silver as gossamer spiderwebs shimmering in the moonlight. Her clear gray eyes still stared vacant and empty as though her thoughts flitted somewhere else. Obviously, she wasn’t interested in this world. Her spirit just happened to be entrapped in this reality until she found a way to escape her physical form.
“Who are ye?” Faolan whispered as he released Keagan’s hand. Once the glamour had shattered, he no longer required his son’s powers to enable him to see through the sham.
The elfin woman made eye contact with Faolan for the first time since returning to the keep. Her voice was musical, so soft and light he leaned forward, straining to hear her words.
“I am Dierdra. Do ye know how I can find my way back to the Land Beyond the Mists?”
“Dierdra Sinclair?” Faolan repeated, easing himself to the bench beside her. He took care to keep a bit of distance between them, fearing he’d frighten her away.
Dierdra glanced at him with uncertainty, her gaze darting about the gardens as though she searched for an escape. Dierdra seemed as skittish as a tiny fawn separated from its mother.
Nodding once, her voice as light as the soughing of the wind through the trees, Dierdra folded her pale hands in her lap. “Aye, my name is Sinclair. Please tell me how to find my way back.”
“Ye canna go back,” Keagan interrupted, taking a step between Dierdra and his father. He scowled as he planted his small hands on his hips and hooked his thumbs in the top of his kilt.
Her gray eyes widened, lower lip quivering. Dierdra grew ashen as she cried out in dismay. “But why? Did I do something to anger the goddesses? I was only in their land for a verra short time.”
“Keagan! Ye must not upset the poor woman. Why would ye say such a thing to the wee lass?” Faolan fixed his son with a withering glare, as he shifted on the bench.
The wind picked up. Dry leaves spun all over the ground as storm clouds gathered in the sky. The cold breeze yanked at Keagan’s small warrior’s braid, pulling his hair away from his face.
“I’ll not lie to her, Da. Only immortals can stay forever in the Land Beyond the Mists. ’Tis their consolation for not having souls. Mother told me we mortals pass through the Veils to any number of incarnations. But the immortals are forbidden to follow us to all the places we can go. So, their reward is the Land Beyond the Mists.”
“But I was there!” Dierdra cried out again, her eyes filling with tears. “They invited me to stay there for a while. I didna realize I’d have to leave so soon.”
“This makes no sense,” Faolan growled as he rose to pace along the stone path circling the bench. He raked his hair out of his face, as he whirled to face his son. “Tell me, Keagan! What else did your mother say about this Land Beyond the Mists?”
As he adjusted his plaid over one small shoulder, Keagan shook his head. “Just that it’s a wondrous place, peaceful and welcoming to those who are allowed to dwell within.”
Distant thunder rumbled beyond the castle walls and kept pace with Faolan’s growing frustration. He took his plaid from about his body and wrapped it around Dierdra’s delicate shoulders against the rising wind. “Mistress Dierdra, please tell me what they said when they invited ye to go there for a while. If ye can tell us everything they might have told ye, perhaps we can find a way to help ye.”
Dierdra’s eyes clouded with even more confusion than they usually held and her chin dropped to her chest. She wrung her tiny fingers together, as though trying to squeeze the memories to the forefront of her mind.
At last, her gray eyes widened and she looked up into Faolan’s face. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes refilled with tears as she frowned and shook her head. “I remember now. My friend Ciara came here to bear ye a son and ensure no one would doubt I was your wife.” Her body trembled and she turned to Keagan as she covered her face with her hands. “Ye are right, young lad. I can ne’er go back. I am trapped here until I die.”
Then she broke down into sobs, her body rocking to and fro upon the bench as she buried her face in Faolan’s plaid.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Faolan crouched before her and gripped her shoulders so tight he almost lifted her from the bench. “Where did Ciara say she would go when ye were returned to this world? What happened to her when it was time for ye to come back to this reality?”
“I don’t know,” Dierdra hiccupped between her sobs. “She didna say when she came to me in my dream.”
“Came to ye in your dream?” Faolan repeated. The bile churned high in his throat and his gut clenched as he rolled back on his heels. As he released Dierdra’s shoulders, he rose to his feet and raked his hands through his hair.
“Mother is an immortal,” Keagan whispered as he watched Dierdra return to her pitiful rocking to and fro.
A surge of fury roared its way through his body as his hands trembled into fists. He had forsaken the Auld Ways once long ago but he’d listened to Ciara and found his way back to opening his heart. What a fool he had been to think the Powers had been finished causing him misery and pain.
* * *
The goddesses'pool shone like a mirror. The tree limbs swayed with the gentle wind, their reflection stirring the water’s surface. The clearing echoed with silence, as though the entire wood stood hushed out of respect for the young boy’s pain.
