Part One
Fire in the Head
I am the wind on the sea;
I am the wave of the sea;
I am the bull of seven battles;
I am the eagle on the rock;
I am a flash from the sun;
I am the most beautiful of plants;
I am a strong wild boar;
I am a salmon in the water;
I am a lake in the plain;
I am the word of knowledge;
I am the head of the spear in battle;
I am the god that puts fire in the head.
Who spreads light in the gathering on the hills?
Who can tell the ages of the moon?
Who can tell the place where the sun rests?
—“The Song of Amergin,” translated by Lady Gregory
Chapter One
Within
Ihad been here before.
A mountain stream slashed down the cliff face and carved out a deep pool in a broad clearing. Spears of moonlight sliced the misty spray into silver prisms. Translucent shallows deepened to midnight near the center of the pond. Glittering flowers spangled sloping banks.
A tall man undressed slowly at the water’s edge. His hair was the lustrous, gleaming black of a feather; his powerful body was carved from hard muscle and sinew. And oh, hisface—sculpted from moonlight and shadow, with plush lips parted faintly in amusement. Silver eyes simmered with desire beneath dark winging brows.
He plunged into the pool. The water swallowed him without a splash as he dived—deep enough for his form to be a star of white in the dark. I inhaled, filling my lungs with humid summer air. And even as I stood transfixed on the bluebell-strewn knoll… I, too, dived into the pool. My hands—clasped as if in prayer—split the dark water. My body knifed down, the cold pond a shock against my sweat-sticky skin. I clawed at the water, pulling myself deeper.
You cannot hide here.
The voice was the whisper of silver ripples lapping rush-lined banks; the susurrus of eager trees bending heavy heads; the sudden pinch of a molten ring wrapped too tightly around my finger; the blinding scream of a collar latched around my throat—
Let me in.
I knew by now not to grab for it. The collar’s faint sizzle at my throat was nothing more than sense memory. I could tug until my fingernails shredded. Tear with all my strength. The metal would not give way. Because it was not really there.
Instead, I dived deeper. The man arose in counterpoint, and I watched him as he passed. His sharp jaw was tilted toward the light; his silver eyes were open, fixed on the shadow of a girl standing on the bank.
Me.
