Lir nodded, his jaw clenching. “We call her the Namhaid. All this time, we have not known who she was, but we have details. Signs that give us an idea. An ice princess. One who has an owl familiar and glistening silver hair. One who pretends to be something other than herself. One who has dark dreams. And one who still has magic when all is lost.”
Eislyn’s mouth went dry as she swallowed hard. That described her. Perfectly. She’d tried to ignore the brown owl’s sudden presence in her life, but it was impossible. Somehow, she was linked to him. Eislyn had shaved off her hair, pretending to be a human boy when she was anything but. And her magic…
“The only problem is, the visions have always been unclear.” At that, he shook his head and sighed. “There is another fae that Dagda saw in his dreams. A hero. The Ghaisgeach. Sometimes, I’m not certain whether the ice fae princess is the hero or the enemy of us all, but I know she is one or the other.”
“The Ghaisgeach? You mean, the hero from the Sea Court legends?”
Lir’s lips flattened. “You’ve heard of this hero then.”
She nodded.
“Some of the visions suggest that the Ghaisgeach and the Namhaid will enter a battle of sorts. Whoever wins decides the fate of the world.”
Eislyn’s heart pounded. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not only did he seem to believe these prophecies—these visions—were real, but he seemed to think that she was…
“You think I’m the Namhaid.” Her blood roared in her ears.
“All signs point to it, Eislyn.” He took a step toward her. “In truth, my subjects have been pleading with me to kill you. That’s why I’ve worked so hard to protect you from them. They’re terrified you will destroy the world. When the Namhaid gains power, she will not stop at Tir Na Nog. She will ruin us all.”
Hot tears splashed onto her cheeks, and she whispered, “If you really think I’m going to destroy the world, why haven’t you killed me then?”
“Because Dagda wrote his visions in books that have been passed down through the centuries. We’ve translated them as best we could, but we are not perfect beings who can read minds. I find the wording of the prophecies confusing.” He let out a sigh that seemed to shake the very core of him. “I believe you could be the Namhaid, but there’s a chance you’re something else entirely. You might be the Ghaisgeach instead. And if I execute you, I could be dooming us all.”
Eislyn took a step back, shaking her head. “This is madness.”
“I assure you, it is anything but.”
“I’m not what you think I am,” she argued, her raised voice reflecting all the frenetic panic charging through her veins. “I’m just a princess. I like books and cats and blankets and quiet nights. I’m not the Namhaid. I’m not your hero either. I’m just a normal girl.”
“Eislyn, you may think yourself normal, but you’re anything but. The fae of Tir Na Nog lost their magic a hundred years ago, but you have not. Tell me how that’s possible if there isn’t something special about you.”
She brushed the tears off her face, trying her best to hold it together. Darkness pulsed in the back of her mind, reminding her that she was far from normal. She never had been. She’d always been plagued by that madness that lurked inside of her memories. Half of her life was a forgotten blank slate. Sometimes, she saw things that weren’t there.
And the magic of the ice slithered through her skin.
“I don’t want there to be something wrong with me,” she whispered fiercely. “I don’t want to be the Namhaid. I don’t want to destroy anything at all!”
“And now you understand why I’ve married you and kept you here. If youarethe Namhaid, you can never leave these lands.”
35
Reyna
The fire crackled. Sparks flickered toward the dark sky, the twin moons hidden behind bulbous clouds. Reyna sat back away from it, her arms wrapped around her knees. She and Nollaig had ridden deep into the night, their horses tiring from the intensity of the charge. Reyna wanted to keep going, but Nollaig insisted they camp for the night.
“I forgot you ice fae don’t like fire,” Nollaig said, settling onto the ground beside her. Her cloak bunched up around her legs, but she didn’t seem to notice. Reyna wondered if the cloak now felt like an extension of her own body at this point.
“It’s not my favorite element,” Reyna said, sliding a glance her way. “Do you take off your cloak when you sleep?”
Nollaig stiffened. “That’s a personal question, Shieldmaiden.”
“You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“I could if I wanted to, but no. I haven’t removed this cloak since the moment I first donned it.”
Reyna stared at the shadow fae. The orange glow flickered across her hidden face. Everything about her was steeped in shadows. And yet she trusted Nollaig more than almost anyone else in the world.
Nollaig shifted sideways, the folds of the cloak dropping down in front of her face. “I could ask you something similar, you know. What’s really going on inside your head, Shieldmaiden?”
