“And ye trust his words to be true?” Bride said.
“Animals don’t lie to me. Never have. It’s people who have a problem with the truth.”
“The Highland Veil groaned when I separated them,” Mairwen said to the goddesses. The mothers would already know this, but a reminder bore repeating. “Theirs is a powerful bond. The Veil needs them together. Not apart. Now that Lexi knows the entirety of her being, she is ready to return.”
“But what about Prince Jeros?” Danu asked. “The Prince of Perfection? Has he learned anything? Ye ken how stubborn the Fae can be.”
“Jeros has learned lessons as well,” Lexi said before Mairwen could answer. “We both have, and we will both continue to learn. That’s what couples do. When they come together, they don’t automatically know everything. A good relationship grows into something stronger, and we help one another learn. Sometimes, I’ll be the one struggling with change. Sometimes, it’ll be him. What matters is that we help each other. Support each other. I can’t do any of that from here.”
“And what if we choose to keep the mists closed?” Bride asked, her tone uncharacteristically steely.
“Then you’re making a very large mistake.” Lexi widened her stance. “Because then I would make it my life’s work to see that you are forgotten—starting in Scotland.”
Cerridwen laughed. “Our beloved lands will never forget us.”
“Maybe not. But I can try.”
Mairwen’s heart ached. Lexi sounded like an abandoned child fighting for a crust of bread.
“What’s it to you, anyway?” Lexi asked, moving away from the stone and turning in a slow circle. “Mortals are gone in the blink of an eye to you. What do you care if I pass into the Fae realm more than once? I’m doing so to strengthen my bond with Jeros. Won’t that help the Highland Veil, and thereby, help you?” Not waiting for a response, she talked even louder. “And who made up that stupid rule about mortals only being allowed to pass through once? Why? What difference does it make?”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Mairwen flinched. Neither Bride nor Cerridwen tolerated or treated insolence with the gentleness that Danu did. Danu was Lexi’s truest hope.
“Seeing that a mortal survives the passage to a Fae realm requires a great stirring of the energies,” Danu said, in a slightly chiding tone. “Once the energies are stirred, once their powers are spent, it takes eons to restore them.”
Leslie’s scowl became even stormier. “So are you saying you can’t, or you won’t even try? If only one of you stirred them, then why couldn’t a different one stir them this time? Or is this a group effort?”
“May the heavens help us,” Mairwen muttered as she rushed to Lexi’s side. “Remember our conversation about respect?” she hissed under her breath.
“Respect has to be earned.” Lexi jutted her chin higher. “If my fated mate bond was worth a good stirring of the energies the first time for the sake of the Highland Veil, seems to me like it’s worth a second good stir to keep that Veil strong.” She rapped her knuckles on the stone obelisk. “Rules are made to be bent under special circumstances. Doesn’t saving an entire realm, a realm that believes in the three of you, I might add, deserve a little bending?”
Silence filled the woodland. Even the animals went still. Lexi glanced all around, then barely touched Mairwen’s arm. “Did I piss them off so badly that they left?”
“I dinna care for such language,” Bride said, her voice filled with exasperation. “What has this century come to?”
Mairwen grabbed Lexi’s hand and gave it a squeeze, their agreed-upon signal to play their final trump card.
“Forgive me for the language,” Lexi said, then she wet her lips. “Tomorrow is the Summer Solstice. Wouldn’t that help you find the strength to give the energies a good stir?”
“Mairwen trained ye well, child,” Cerridwen said. “And, aye, the magic of the solstice would give us strength.”
“Ye ken that if we send ye to the Fae realm once again, ye will be restricted to the way station if ye ever wish to visit yer world again?” Bride advised. “That includes contact with yer friends. Ye may only connect with them if they are at the way station.”
“Way station?”
“Seven Cairns,” Mairwen told her. “When ye passed outside of its borders, that fully brought yer spirit back to yer time and place rather than merely allowing ye to hover long enough for a wee visit while keeping one foot in the Fae realm.”
“Who makes up these rules?” Lexi’s scowl of disbelief triggered another roll of distant thunder. She immediately assumed a more pleasing demeanor. “Sorry.”
“The strength of yer bond is why we arebendingour rules,” Danu said. “Dinna expect it to happen a third time.”
“Thank you,” Lexi said, her tone jubilant and slightly smug.
“Thank ye, Mothers,” Mairwen hurried to say, hoping to steer their focus away from Lexi.
“Save the Seventh Realm,” the mothers said in unison. “Dinna make our efforts for naught.”
ChapterSixteen
