Barbin chuckled. “You act as though they have rational brains. After decades—or more—trapped in this place, they’ve likely gone mad.”
“Wonderful,” Eislyn muttered, her eyes darting toward every shadow in the lush forest. Suddenly, the trees no longer seemed so inviting. They watched her silently like portends of death.
“Lir, can I talk to you for a moment?” Barbin asked. Lir nodded and strode off toward the edge of the clearing. Frowning, Eislyn inched closer to the both of them so that she could overhear their conversation.
“I was thinking…Inishfall is a prison,” Barbin murmured. “Perhaps it’s the perfect place for the Namhaid. That way, you get what you want and we get what we want. The world is safe from her, but…you don’t have to kill her.”
Eislyn stiffened, twisting away. She didn’t want to hear another word of this, but she couldn’t walk away from it either. Her fate was tied to Lir, inexplicably. And there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t want to return to Fomor when all of this was over, but she didn’t want to stay here either. Not if this place was home to the kind of prisoners who would eat her alive if they found her—literally.
“Absolutely not,” Lir said through clenched teeth. “Eislyn would never survive this place alone. And she’s my wife. We made vows to each other. The only way to undo that is for one of us to die.”
“Perhaps not,” Barbin argued, his voice a hiss. “A druid might be able to do it.”
“A druid is not here, Barbin,” Lir said. “And I will not hear any more discussion of this. She is my wife, and she will remain by my side regardless of what happens with the gods.”
Barbin let out a heavy sigh. “I fear you’re making a mistake, old friend.”
“It’s my mistake to make,” Lir insisted. “I need you to respect that.”
“How can I respect something that could get us all killed?”
“Enough,” Lir snapped, turning away. Sucking in a sharp breath, Eislyn tried to scurry over to the other warriors before Lir could spot her eavesdropping. But no such luck. His eyes landed on her the moment he turned. Instantly, the hard lines on his face softened.
He took her elbow in his hand, steering her away from Barbin. “I suppose you heard every word of that.”
She swallowed hard, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. Barbin stood watching them retreat, hatred churning in his eyes. “I did.”
“I should be annoyed that you eavesdropped, but I don’t blame you. It’s your fate on the line.” He stopped, sighed, and ran a hand down his face. “I know you’re scared, Eislyn, but you don’t need to be. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not just me I’m worried about,” she whispered. “What if he’s right?”
“He’s not,” Lir said with a frown. “Now, come. We need to reach the birthplace of the gods before nightfall or we’ll have to camp on this island. And none of us wants that.”
They took to the skies again. This time, Eislyn did not even fight it. She wrapped her arms around Lir’s neck and gazed down at the thick canopy whooshing by. The world was a brilliant green, almost blindingly bright. Magic sizzled through the air, buzzing against her skin. Eislyn had never felt anything quite like it before.
As they flew, several of the warriors gathered around Barbin. They exchanged tense words, but their voices were snatched up by the steady wind. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she could guess by their harsh glances in her direction. Plotting against her, no doubt. Why couldn’t Lir see it?
Eislyn’s attention soon shifted to the buzz of magic dancing along her skin. She had an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. With every breath that passed, the magic hugged her even tighter. It reminded her of the story of the fae who walked into the belly of the whale. And then never came out.
Finally, the Fomorians landed in a clearing where the winding river ended at a deep, dark pool. Dark magic pulsed from the murky depths of it, tempting her closer. The forest loomed large around them, and strange whispers echoed from the dark. Eislyn suddenly had the urge to call this off and turn back. Something wasn’t right about this place, and it wasn’t just the prisoners. Her owl hooted and nuzzled her neck. It calmed her nerves, but only a little bit.
“This is it,” Lir said, nodding toward the strange pool of water that stretched out before them.
Eislyn swallowed hard and stared at the still water. It looked harmless, like any old pool one might find in the midst of a forest. But she could feel the magic seeping from it, deep and dark and cruel.
“What do I have to do?” she whispered.
“You have to go up to the pool and drink the water,” Barbin said gruffly.
Lir frowned. “We’re actually not certain, Eislyn. Dagda’s chronicles weren’t clear on what’s necessary to speak to the gods.”
“They were,” Barbin argued. “It was in his Tales of Tir Na Nog.”
Eislyn glanced up at Lir. He stood tall and broad-shouldered beside her. Unease flashed in his eyes. This quest had been his idea. Why did he look as though he regretted it now?
Because he truly thought she was the Namhaid. And once they confirmed it, her existence would rip his entire world apart.
“Alright. Try drinking from it,” he finally relented with a nod. “And then ask the question.”
