Page 11 of Wine & Warlocks

“Aye. The O’Malleys and those thievin’ O’Connors have been locked in a feud for over two centuries.”

“Thieving?” He laughed. “Sounds serious. What did they steal? A cow? Someone’s wife?”

“Sure, and you can laugh if you want, but it was an enchanted sword. The Sword of Goibhniu.”

“I sense a juicy story there.”

Hiding her grin with her teacup, she took a sip and nodded. “The weapon was entrusted to my ancestors, and the god who gave it to them was so enraged they’d lost it, he bound the O’Malley power and gave it to the O’Connors.”

The amusement left Trevor’s face, and he sat straighter. “So much more serious than a cow or wife.”

“Aye. But to be fair, Goibhniu penned a prophesy in the O’Malley grimoire. Somewhere along the way, the O’Connors learned of it and set about blocking it at every turn.”

“And that’s what Loman is trying to do now?”

“No,” Ronan said. The enchantment cloaking him fell away, revealing him where he leaned against the doorjamb. “The prophesy came to pass, as well it should, but Loman O’Connor is a sore fucking loser.”

Although Dubheasa jumped at hearing Ronan’s voice, Trevor was unaffected by his appearance, as if he’d sensed him all along. As she should’ve because the prickling sensation at the base of her neck had given her fair warning. She scowled. “How long have ya been there?”

Ronan shrugged in a too-casual manner.

Trevor, on the other hand, reclined and hooked an arm over the chair’s back, sending a knowing look Ronan’s way. “I’d say it’s been as long as I’ve been sitting here. Isn’t that right, Mr. O’Connor?”

“I’ll not be trusting Dove’s safety with a stranger in our midst, to be sure.”

“Answer enough,” Trevor murmured, flaring his eyes wide at her before facing Ronan again. “Okay, to recap this little tale… Your family stole the enchanted sword, hers lost their magic, somewhere in there a riddle was solved, and now we have a madman who believes winner takes all despite having already lost. Have I got this correct?”

“Aye.” Ronan dropped onto the bench running along the wall, resting his head back and closing his eyes. “And he’ll not stop. Two escapes from the Otherworld’s holding area can attest to that.”

Curious, Dubheasa paused in pouring Ronan a cup of tea. “How did you know it was a riddle to be solved, Trevor?”

“It’s the nature of a prophesy to be vague. Interpreting one is pure luck.”

Meeting Ronan’s tired blue eyes, she shook her head. “The O’Malleys were cursed with bad luck from the second the sword disappeared. I’m beginning to think our fortunes have taken a turn for the better, though.” Dropping her gaze, she slid the cup and saucer across the table, then proceeded to smear jam and clotted cream on two scones and shoved them in Ronan’s general direction. “Eat something, yeah?”

“How so?” Trevor held a hand over the rim of his drink and shook his head when she silently held up the teapot in question.

“Since Piper Thorne walked through the door to Lucky’s, things have turned around for my family. Relationships, finances, the like.” And wasn’t that grand? Prior to that, the O’Malleys were all struggling to make ends meet.

“It could be argued my family continually caused all those hardships,” Ronan said between bites.

Trevor suddenly grinned. “It’s like looking at Romeo and Juliet. It’s the Montagues and Capulets all over again. Even your last names start with the same letters. Well, minus the O part of it.”

“Sure, and the comparison is apt, but more for Bridget and Ruairí than for the two of us,” Dubheasa said with a short laugh. “They were the ones who fell in love at seventeen and, just this year, fulfilled the final line of the prophesy.”

“Now you have me really curious. How did the riddle go?”

Ronan spoke the first line when he saw her mouth was full from a bite of scone.“When a mighty Thorne pricks the heart of the Frozen, the end shall start in motion.”

Taking up where he left off, Dubheasa swallowed her food and said,“When the Golden Son sacrifices for the One, only then can the curse be undone.”

And together, they chorused the last line.“When the Enemy at the Gate is welcomed by the Keeper of the Sword, all that is lost shall be restored.”

Trevor nodded as if he was processing the words, and he finally said, “Damn, that’s pretty crafty.”

Ronan’s chuckle skated across Dubheasa’s skin, and she couldn’t help but join in. “Aye. Pretty crafty,” she parroted. “Obviously, Piper is the mighty Thorne, and she literally pierced Cian’s feckin’ heart with a needle to save his life.”

“Who were the Golden Son and the One? What was their story?” Trevor asked, leaning forward.

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