I can’t.
I wanted to. More than he could imagine. Something prevented me. It was like there was a sheet of glass between me and everything else. Every attempt slid off its smooth surface, leaving me in the same predicament as before. Only more exhausted.
You can,Liam assured me.You’re the most stubborn woman I know. Open the way,mo chuisle.Let us in.
Liam’s presence in my mind. Whatever power that had enabled contact weakened until he and the other two felt very far away.
Please, A stór,Liam’s heart whispered.Don’t leave me like this.
Then I was whisked away. Pulled back into my body in a dizzying rush.
Not much time had passed while my mind was away.
Snarling filled my ears. Brax’s werewolf was fighting the small army Muiredach had brought. Blood flowed from the multitude of wounds all over his body. He savaged an enemy, ripping the Fae’s arm off his body and flinging it at another Fae barreling toward him.
Brax leapt lithely out of the way. A third attack from his rear forced him to twist in midair in a feat of supernatural prowess that allowed him to avoid the next blow.
He landed facing his assailant then darted forward, grabbing the Fae’s lead leg and yanking. There was no time for him to finish off his victim as two more Fae closed in from either side.
Brax sprang backwards, weaving back and forth.
Despite the damage he was inflicting, it wasn’t going to be enough. There were too many Fae, leaving him outnumbered ten to one.
A series of howls came from the forest.
The pack.
Frustration bled into their vocalizations, as they failed to breach the illusions and enchantments protecting the meadow.
The djinn, Saul, floated around the periphery of the battle, not taking part. He watched with the air of an observer.
Arlan was doing the same from a few feet away, his inaction making me think he was waiting for something.
They both were.
The sunlight, already intense, grew blistering hot. A reflection of Muiredach’s anger as he strode toward me. Each step carrying with it a sense of inevitability. Almost as much as the halo that formed around his figure. A source of blinding light that sent pain stabbing through my eyes.
I was too weak to do anything more than squint as he loomed over me. All that power primed to end me.
Inara flew from the eldritch’s shoulder, a tiny sword in her hand. “I won’t let you.”
Feeling like the world was receding under me, like sand shifting as waves carried it away, my gaze shifted to the canopy of the oak tree. Its ancient, gnarled branches and thick coverage allowing only a shimmer of sunlight to penetrate the gloom at its base.
Somehow, I’d managed to come to a rest directly beneath Lowen. The pixie was too weak to give more than a token struggle as he watched his consort fly to her death.
“Don’t just lie there, Aileen. Do something!” Breandan screamed.
My eyes slipped closed in a slow blink that had time skipping.
The next thing I knew, Arlan was bent over me. For the first time since I’d known him, he’d fully shed his human skin, letting me see what lay beneath the illusion he kept permanently wrapped around him.
Though clearly Fae, he was much more than that too. In old legends, they would have referred to him as a creature of the forest. Something spawned in the deepest, most primal parts. Before humans had spread through every corner of the Earth.
Eyes the color of tree sap regarded me thoughtfully. The amber resin caught me, drawing me in and trapping me in its viscous embrace.
In awe, I watched as horns branched from his head. Flowers twining around some of the prongs.
Power as ancient as the forest danced in the air around his head. Its source harkening back to the very beginning of this realm.
