Chapter Thirteen

I turned the corner leading to the great hall, and a tidal wave of sound hit me full force. Finding sanctuary behind a massive stone pillar, I took in the holly leaves intertwining the large beams and the iron chandeliers glittering with candles.

The Fianna milled about, slapping backs, joining together in songs, some of the warriors already half in the bag. Vivid green and pristine white embroidered velvet offset the glowing golden armor on their chests, and their figures threw terrifying shadows on the walls. The Fianna women stood like Valkyries in the firelight, quick words on their lips, shoulders rolled back. A few of the warriors sent scowling glares over at my hiding place, and I shrank back, regretting showing my face here. Too late now. No way of retreating without making a scene.

The thin wail of a violin wafted through the pressed armored bodies, sad and sweet, and in the corner an impromptu band of musicians tuned their instruments, tin whistles and flutes at their sides like weapons at the ready.

Carolan’s casket lay upon an elaborately carved table at the end of the hall. A group of warriors hovered over it, their lips moving in silent prayers.

“Elizabeth.”

The brush of cold fingers traced my bare shoulders and I jumped. It was Orin.

“God, you scared me!”

He bowed in apology, joining me behind the pillar and taking in the spectacle. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

I leaned my head on the stone and shook my head. “Not really.”

Orin’s translucent eyes scanned the room, narrowing sharply to the front. I followed his gaze and saw Amergin step out of the shadows, green embroidered robes trailing on the floor.

Finn emerged behind him. His golden armor caught the flames, radiating light against the planes of his face. His eyes locked onto Carolan’s coffin, and I could tell by the set of his jaw he was struggling to keep it together.

As if sensing my gaze, he looked up and caught my eye. Startled, I made to mask myself behind the pillar, but instead I tripped on the generous hem of my gown and fell against Orin in another demonstration of my studied elegance. Orin gripped my arms from behind and steadied me.

“Are you all right?” he whispered in my ear.

I covered his hands with my own and cast a sideways glance up at the vampire and smiled. “Yes, sorry. I think the stuffiness in the room is making me light-headed.”

“Perhaps you should sit down?” Orin gestured toward an empty chair.

His hands lingered on the back of my arms, but I waved him away.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Finn’s eyes bored into my back from across the room, and a warm bloom of satisfaction spread through my chest as I stared up into the clear eyes of the dearg-dubh, noting a thin rim of the palest green against his translucent irises. Orin held me out at arm’s length and took in the long black dress I had pulled from the closet for the occasion.

“You do look lovely this evening, my lady.”

I gave a fake curtsy and laughed. “I feel a little out of place. I thought black would be appropriate for a wake.”

Orin and I stood out like two dark ink stains in a sea of white, green, and gold. But the dearg-dubh didn’t seem to mind. His quartz eyes twinkled as he grazed the long skirts flaring from my hips, the tight ribbed bodice spanning my waist. “Your mother would be so proud if she could see you now.”

I blushed, shy at his attention. Before I could ask more about my mother, the music stopped, and a hush blew through the crowd as Amergin raised his hands for silence.

“Ah, here we go,” Orin breathed into my ear. “The shepherd addresses his flock.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of the bard.”

Orin cocked an eyebrow at me with a knowing smile and then set his gaze to the front of the room as if he couldn’t wait to hear Amergin speak.

Seamus and Regina had joined Finn by Carolan’s casket. Seamus fidgeted, looking like he couldn’t wait to get out of the gold armor and Regina, eyes swollen and face drawn, appeared as a pale ghost beside the two men.

Amergin cleared his throat, and he lifted his arms again in a theatrical, priestly gesture. “Tonight, we celebrate the life of Turlough O’Carolan,” he began, “one of the greatest bards of Ireland. A storyteller, poet, musician, and a dear friend, Carolan was initiated into the Fianna in order to preserve his talents for the ages and to provide guidance for our order. His untimely death is a sorrow to us all, but let us not mourn for our friend. Tonight, we celebrate his life, his song, and his legacy.”

The room erupted in cheers. Finn stepped forward, and I wondered what he would say, but my jaw dropped as he began to sing. His rich baritone voice rang through me, and a tingling sensation washed over my skin, the back of my arms prickling with the raw, masculine beauty of his voice. As the song rose to a crescendo, the entire room stood spellbound, captured by the sound echoing across the stone walls, sailing up into the rafters.

He sang in Irish, and I caught a few snippets of the song. It was about two Faerie queens arguing about who had the better Faerie mount. The squabble erupted in outright war, and no one who entered into the fray survived.

As Finn sang the final chorus, a lone male voice in the back of the room echoed him, and then a young woman added a sultry alto, until the whole room erupted into song, the voices transporting me to some distant mythical battleground. Finn began again, and the band joined in this time, the whole room of warriors, over a hundred strong, crying out lustily at the end.

“Is bímíd uile páirteach!”

“And let us all stand together!”

The last line of the song echoed through the hall, and I stood transfixed as the warriors burst in a round of cheers, a call and response in Old Irish that I couldn’t quite grasp.

“That was one of Carolan’s compositions, did you know that?” Orin whispered in my ear.

“What?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yes, it seems a strange choice for a Fianna anthem.” Orin shrugged. “But then again, they’ve never had an issue co-opting Fae culture when it suits their purpose.”

“I don’t understand these separations,” I whispered back to Orin, my eyes still on Finn who studied me from across the room. “In the old stories there’s no Trinity, no hard boundaries.”

Orin smiled, but his clear eyes clouded with bitterness. “Yes, in the old stories,” he said. “Welcome to the new age.”

There was more call and response, and then Amergin stepped forward once more to speak. “We pray to our mother Mórrígan that she will accept her son back to her arms and allow his spirit to rise above the flame and ash to find peace beyond this earthly cycle.”

Amergin held his hands up to the ceiling, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as the energy in the room began to hum.

“And here come the pyrotechnics,” Orin whispered in my ear.

I gasped as a brilliant blue ball of fire formed between Amergin’s outstretched fingers, swirling and pulsating until it grew larger and larger. He brought the ball of flame over his head, the light shrouding the whole room with an electric blue glow. He released it into the coffin, the blast blowing heat in my face even though I stood yards away. A blaze of light exploded with such terrifying force, I saw spots behind my eyelids. When I opened my eyes again, all that remained was a single white rose. Amergin picked it up with both hands, cradling it, and the Fianna chanted together in Old Irish:

Mórrígan render my spirit,

alight my blood and make me willing,

bless me with sovereignty

and lend me your strength,

and once my battle has ended,

take me into your arms

and guide me back to the earth.

Finn brought a gilded box to Amergin who placed the rose within and then set it on the empty table. A harpist strummed a few notes, and the Fianna broke into song again. Finn stood with Amergin over the golden box containing the white rose that was once Carolan’s body.

The bellowing voices of the Fianna rose to a clamor in the great hall as the rest of the musicians joined the harpist, and a steady, thumping reel cut through the room like a galloping horse. Pints clinked with hardy sláintes, and refreshments passed hands, the funeral part of the evening clearly over.

Seamus whispered something in Regina’s ear, but she walked past him, a vacant look in her eyes. She poured herself a glass of whiskey and retired to a corner. Instead of drinking it, she merely cupped it in her hands and stared at the wall. My throat tightened, and I looked away, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the quiet of my room.

“What is this?” Orin said. “You are retiring so early?”

“I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“Tired? Come, your highness,” Orin said, placing his smooth hands over mine. “Carolan would be heartbroken if you did not take part in the merrymaking. It is said that the wake for his ‘pretend’ funeral lasted four days! Irish wakes are about celebrating life, not weeping over death. After all, death is only the beginning.” He smiled, baring sharpened canines that no longer appeared so frightening.

I peered up at him. “Are you…dead?”

Orin threw back his head and laughed so loud that half the room threw him tense glances. “Oh, Elizabeth, you have so much to learn of our kind.”

“So I take it all that vampire Hollywood stuff is just—”

“Just made up nonsense for the young ladies to swoon over, yes.” Orin’s laughing eyes smoldered and grew serious. “We live on human blood, but I assure you, I am quite alive.” He extended his cold, pale hand out to me. “Will you dance with me?”

I laughed, shaking my head and raising my hand in defense. “I’ll spare you the humiliation of having me as a dance partner.”

“Oh, come now, Elizabeth. Every Fae can dance.” His clear eyes twinkled. “It’s in your blood.”

I had a sudden flash of my friend Erika and I stumbling around the dance floor, drunk on Jägermeister and trying to outdo each other with our best running man impressions.

“No, I mean, really. I don’t dance.”

He took my hand and pulled me toward him. “Please,” he said, his eyes gazing deep into mine.

Looking away, I stared at Finn at the other end of the hall. My stomach clenched as I spied him in conversation with Aoife, her big eyes staring up at him as she chatted animatedly, long nails pressing into his back. He brushed her hair behind her ear and whispered something. They pressed their foreheads together and laughed, Finn’s hand resting on her arm. His smile faded and his eyes shot up, zeroing in on me through the crowd.

My pulse quickened, and with a flush of rage, I turned back to the dearg-dubh.

“Actually Orin, I would love to dance.”

The candlelight flickered in his pale irises as he pulled me nearer to his chest, interlacing his fingers with mine. For a moment I felt like we were the only people in the room, the voices of the Fianna fading away, the only sound the delicate waltz emanating from a low flute, hollow and wavering like a song played at the bottom of the sea.

Orin led me onto the floor, weaving in and out among the other dancers and guiding me with his hands, turning me with the slightest bend of his wrist. My long skirts flowed across the stone in a shudder of silk, the dark fabric shimmering. For a split second, I did feel almost like a princess, like someone beautiful, graceful, powerful. I raised my shoulders as Orin’s hands spread across my back, the flute crescendoing higher and higher until the room spun with its impossible rhythm, up and beyond. I closed my eyes, and a feeling of weightlessness overcame me, my soul disappearing into the dimensions of the music, waves of it pushing me into the dark end of a great ocean where there was no break between sea and sky.

“Elizabeth!”

Orin’s fingers dug into my shoulder, and my eyes shot open. His face clouded with panic, and he ushered me off the dance floor and back to a small antechamber. He set me down on a bench, his cold hand pressed against my cheek. I felt my breath returning, the swimming, oceanic feeling that had washed over me fading as I clutched the lip of the stone bench beneath me.

“I’m sorry.” I said, sucking in deep inhalations of air. “I haven’t had much to eat today.”

Orin knelt down in front of me. “You must never do that in front of Amergin,” he said, his voice strained with tension.

“What?” I asked breathlessly. “Dance?”

“No, Elizabeth, you…” Orin leaned in to me. “You flickered.”

I laughed, still trying to get my bearings. “Wait, what? I…what?” I laughed again, realizing Orin wasn’t joining in with me.

The dearg-dubh stood up and squeezed my hand. “Please just rest here for a moment. Don’t leave. I will return with food, some wine to restore you.”

He went to go, and I grabbed his hand.

“Orin, wait—”

He wrenched away from me, nervous and shaking, and fled the small room.

Placing my head in my hands, I ground my nails into my scalp. My sense of equilibrium felt off, as if I didn’t know where my body ended and the rest of the world began. A wave of dizziness passed through me, and I shut my eyes tight against it. I had been so into the music and the dancing, that I had sort of…lost myself there. Heat crept up my neck, and I prayed I hadn’t made a fool of myself in front of the Fianna, in front of Amergin, in front of—Finn.

As if I had called a demon from the depths of hell with the echo of my own thoughts, Finn darted into the antechamber, eyes dark with rage. He towered over me, and I straightened myself, meeting his gaze head on.

“What did Orin tell you? What did he say?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“Excuse me?” I blinked hard.

“Tell me what he said!” Finn lowered his face to mine, and for a moment I felt like I was being interrogated again beneath Trinity’s keep.

“Oh, you know, he was just telling me all about his Twilight fan fiction page.” My heart beat fast in my chest, but I gave Finn a flippant shrug and rose to leave.

He blocked my path.

“Get out of my way!” I glared up at him.

Finn took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his face turned soft, apologetic. “Elizabeth, please listen to me. Orin cannot be trusted.”

“Why? Because he’s Fae?”

Finn clenched his fist. “It’s not that. He’s a—”

“A dearg-dubh, a vampire. He told me that, Finn.”

“Yes. No. There’s more to it.” Finn shook his head. “You couldn’t understand.”

I shoved my finger into his armored chest. “Screw you what I can’t understand!”

Finn raised his chin, narrowing his eyes at me. “Orin has business dealings on this side of the mortal world in Chicago. I haven’t been able to catch him in the act, but believe me, Elizabeth. He’s not who he seems.”

I laughed. “Because he refuses to bow down to your douchebag boss? Because he feels like he has a right to this world just like anyone else?”

“God, you already sound just like them…” Finn said under his breath.

“Like what? Like a Fae?” I quirked my eyebrow. With one hand on my hip, I pushed my breasts up higher in the boned bodice encasing them, laying down my best saucy nymph act.

Finn’s face flushed, his eyes shifting to the floor.

“Orin is a drug dealer. He deals in black market weapons. Prostitution.”

A loud barking laugh burst from my mouth. “Oh. Oh-ho. Wow. Wow. That’s good.” I laughed again, raising my hand to my chest. “Please spare me the moral indignation from the man who would whore my mom out to Bres the Beautiful.”

Finn’s head snapped up. “That’s not the same—!”

“Oh, the hypocrisy…it burns…” I palmed my eyes, unfolding my lower eyelids in mock agony.

“You’re such a child. If you would just listen—”

“I’m melting…I’m melting…”

Finn grabbed my wrist, and held me close to him. A fire engulfed me. Rage, desire, shame, and hatred twisted together as images of the previous night flashed in my mind.

“Let me go,” I said through gritted teeth.

He loosened his grip. His steely eyes met mine, long eyelashes dancing across his cheekbones as he studied my face. With one long shuddering breath, he released me.

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said. “Orin is treacherous. He will use any means to get what he wants.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like some other people I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, give me a break!” I pressed my hands against Finn’s chest and pushed with all my might. He stumbled, his normal grace lost in the small stifling room. “The Fianna! Amergin… You. You don’t care who you hurt or who gets in your way. You don’t care about my mother…or me.” Tears stung my eyes, and I wiped them away, angry and humiliated I had lost my shit in front of Finn. I was sure he and Aoife would have a good laugh about it later.

Finn seethed in the corner of the small room, his eyes two narrow slits.

Taking a deep breath, I continued. “I may be half Fae, or whatever, but I’m still a person. I still have feelings, and I won’t let you treat me this way. You want to make Orin out to be the bad guy? Maybe you should take a good look at yourself!”

Finn’s face flushed, his eyes glimmering and wide. He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind and shouldered his way past me.

The shaking started in my toes and went up through my calves, shooting through my head until I thought my skull would shatter from the way my teeth chattered. I stumbled back to the bench, holding my head in my hands, fighting for breath.

That was how Orin found me.

“Dear Elizabeth, are you all right? Did Finn hurt you?”

I scrubbed my face with the back of my palm. “No, no. I’m all right.” I looked at the plate of food Orin had brought, and my stomach flipped. “I-I’m not feeling well, Orin. Would you help me back to my room?”

Orin assisted me to standing, his arm around my waist. “Of course, my lady.”

We walked into the great hall, the music having reached a fever pitch as the Fianna swirled in a wild dance of stomping feet and whirling limbs. The movement made me dizzy, and I desperately sought the exit, Orin’s hand steadying me.

My heart dropped when I saw the only way out was right across the path of Aoife and Finn. They stood by the door, Aoife’s fingernails running up and down his arm with a look that only meant one thing. I curled my head against Orin’s chest, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

“Orin,” I said, so softly there was no way he could hear me.

“It’s all right, my lady,” he said in my ear. “We’ll see you safe to your room.”

I opened my mouth to thank him, but before the words could fall from my lips the doors of the great hall opened with a loud, resonating boom. I jumped.

Everyone stopped dancing and the music ended in a blast of flat chords and tumbling notes. All eyes shifted to the threshold where, dripping wet and exhausted, stood Grainne and Máirtín like two shades returned from the dead.