CHAPTER ONE

 

TRESSA

 

The warriors had finally gotten one side of the courtroom cleared, after resorting to threats to use their weapons. Alexander and I sat in the bottom row of the cleared section. Uncle Lomán left the arena to take the queen and his daughters safely away from the raucous crowd. He had asked us to wait there for him.

Alexander held onto the sword, though he kept his posture non-threatening. He leaned forward with his forearms on his thighs. He held the sword tip down, between his knees with the point resting on the floor. Yet for all his attempts to appear relaxed, his dark chocolate eyes patrolled the surrounding scene with cat-like intensity.

I curled my body in his direction—just enough so that our knees touched. Instead of watching the guards hustle the rest of the crowds out of the courtroom, I watched our aura's dance and roll around each other. Nevertheless, I felt the curious stares aimed our way.

Several guards carried Gilleagán's body away. I know not where they took him, nor do I care.

The rain stopped and the sky brightened; the cool breeze felt good on my sweaty skin. Someone had put out the fire, and the air was fresh again.

"Where did that oath come from?" I asked Alexander.

He shrugged and didn't answer for a minute. When he spoke, his voice sounded exhausted. "I don't know. The words just came out." He curled his mouth into a sardonic smile. "It sure seemed to do the trick, didn't it? I expected the crowd to attack. My only concern at the time was stopping them."

We were silent again as others bustled around us. The amphitheater was nearly empty when he spoke again.

"Where's Sophia?" Alexander asked, tension burning in his voice.

"She's with Shamus," I said. "I asked him to take her way."

"Can we have him bring her back? I'd rather have her where I can see her."

"Aye." I looked around for someone I could ask to find her, only to see Shamus enter with her through the catacomb doors. Sophia broke away from him and ran to us. Seeing that Alexander still held the sword, she jumped into my lap instead, throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face into my shoulder. Once cuddled there, she burst into tears.

"There, there, my sweet," I cooed as I petted her dark hair. "All is fine now."

Alexander cradled his daughter's head with his hand, then leaned over and kissed her temple.

"She would have nothing but to come back," Shamus said, an apology in his voice. I nodded.

"Tressa, I'd like to get out of here as soon as we can," Alexander said.

"Sure and they won't keep us much longer."

"I mean I want to go home. Back to the real world."

"Xander..."

"I know this is the real world to you, but it isn't for me. I need to get back to where I understand how things work. I need to be better prepared for the next time we come back here. I assume there will be a next time?" He looked at me in a way that suggested he would be perfectly happy if I told him no. When I didn't immediately answer, he continued speaking.

"Yeah, I thought so. Well, I never want to be this unprepared again. I'm asking you to give me some time—on my own turf—to do that."

"Aye, of course. We'll leave as soon as we're able."

Shamus cleared his throat. "My Lady, I have become quite attached to the little miss. With Mistress Órlaith gone, I have no one to serve. With your permission I would like to go with you, to care for the wee one."

I reached out and took the scruffy old Brounie's hand. "We would be honored, Shamus. Thank you."

 

A tall, burly guard helped Deirdre down to the floor of the courtroom. Walking slowly, matching the old woman's pace, he escorted her to us.

She held a hand out in Alexander's direction. He looked at her, puzzled.

"The sword, boy. Let me touch it," she said testily.

Alexander looked over to me and I shrugged. He gently placed the hilt into the blind woman's hand. He held the flat sides of the blade, both to hold it steady for her and to ensure it stayed in his possession.

"Ah, it feels warm to the touch," she said, her expression softening into a look filled with peace and contentment. She ran her fingers over the Celtic knot design on the hilt, learning its shape. Then she reached out and traced the scar on Alexander's right arm. She traced the geometric design on the bracelet he wore before allowing her hand to drop away.

"So, Nuada's Heir, at last you have come to claim your prize."

"My prize?"

"Aye, the King's Jewel. Nuada's heir was always a part of the prophecy. You spoke the oath. And you have Nuada's mark on you," she said, tapping the scar on his arm.

I had noticed before how the scar that curled out of his palm and ran up his arm created a Celtic knot that resembled the one on the sword hilt, but I hadn't made the connection. Now that she said it, it seemed obvious—the scar marked Alexander as Nuada's heir. Nuada had lost his forearm and hand in battle. Alexander had lost the use of his arm and hand—also in battle. Nuada had been restored via magic, just as I had restored the strength and dexterity in Alexander.

The guard who had escorted Deirdre to us leaned in to examine the sword for himself. Alexander eyed him skeptically. I watched his aura extend and wrap around the hilt as he drew it away from both of them, sheathing it in the scabbard that hung between his shoulders. His aura made him one with the sword. Aye, truly he was the rightful steward of the Claíomh Solais.

"I knew this day would come. Your mother foretold it. Sadly, I will not live to see any of the other treasures."

"My mother?" Alexander sat up suddenly, the feigned casualness gone.

"Are you not the son of Neve of the House of Falias?" She waved a hand toward the agate bracelet I had used as a talisman to heal his arm. "Is that not the mark of a hound? The emblem for the House of Falias?"

When I had carved the bracelet I had merely thought of it as an attractive geometric design. However, it seemed that she was right: the arrangement of various circles that went through the middle of the design could be interpreted as a creative take on a paw print.

"Neve Falias. Yes, that was my mother's name," Alexander said, a mix of anxiety and excitement in his voice.

"Surely you know she has a great gift for Darna Shealladh."

"You said—you're saying—are you telling me my mother is alive?" Alexander sputtered.

"Her body never returned to her ancestral home. I must conclude that, aye, she is still alive."