Page 87 of Realm of Nightmares
“You know why I’m here, wisp. Do not play your games with me.” His magic flared in tandem with his temper. Agitation swelled, amplified by anger, like the cresting of a rogue wave out at sea. “I came to find Danua for two reasons. To convince her to help us save Faeven and to bring Maeve back from the Ether. This information is not new, and I am in no mood for any of your trickery.”
Her gossamer wings fluttered, and when she smiled, the constellations on her dress twinkled to life. “Lianan can help with both of those things.”
“For a price,” Aran huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Nothing is ever given freely, my lord.” Lianan bounced off the flower petal, her tiny wings projecting her until she hovered just before them at eye level. “Everything must have a price. It is the way with magic, the laws that bind us.”
A simple statement of fact, yet when she said it, the words were profound. And then Tiernan remembered…she’d been alive when such rules were forged into existence.
Then she started humming, a tune he couldn’t place, and Tiernan shook his head.
“This is absurd.” Regret burrowed its way into his chest, squeezing his heart like a vise. Without an audience with Danua, this entire journey would be a colossal waste of time. All the effort and energy, all the risks, the near-death experiences—even Balor, the Fury who never resurfaced from the darkness—would be useless without her. Worthless.
It had all been for nothing.
Tiernan pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re of no use to me.”
“On the contrary.” The will ó wisp’s lilting voice drew his gaze back to her. “Lianan is exactly what you sought.”
He opened his mouth to object, and she darted forward, pressing her small hand to lips to silence him.
“Lianan can read the archaic runes. She knows the answers to all your questions. The ones that leave you sleepless.” She fluttered away, putting space between them. “The worries that plague your mind.”
“The will ó wisps were ancient seers.” Aran angled his head, scrutinizing the tiny fae. “They were hardly ever wrong.”
“Lianan is never wrong.”
Never wrong, yet often vague.
Tiernan’s thoughts drifted to the constellation of stars marking Maeve’s thumb for a deal not yet called in by the wisp. Hissirrawas bound to a bargain with the solitary fae, and though Maeve hadn’t told him the terms, he knew the cost would be great.
The will ó wisp did not make contracts of little consequence.
“Perhaps if we each ask her a question,” Aran mused, a familiar gleam resurfacing in his eyes. He gestured to the wisp. “That way, neither of us is indebted to her more than the other.”
“It could work.” Tiernan eyed the solitary fae whose magic knew bounds far greater than his own. “We’ll have to decide who will ask what and take care with our words.”
Aran nodded in agreement. “Right. Because the last thing we want is to be trapped in a one-sided bargain with the will ó wisp.”
Lianan huffed, and her delicate wings fluttered furiously. “You fae males talk too much. Decide now, or I shall leave this sacred place and your fates will be your own.”
“Fine.” Tiernan stepped forward, his hands curling into fists until his nails bit into his palms. “I’ll go first.”
She smiled sweetly, like she wasn’t capable of ruining lives with a whisper and flick of her wrist. “Whenever you’re ready, Your Grace.”
Tiernan straightened, drawing himself up to his full height. Rolling his shoulders back, he towered over the will ó wisp, and thunder rumbled through Maghmell. The promise of a storm if she dared cross him. But it didn’t matter what she asked of him, whatever the price, he would pay it. On one condition. “What will it take to bring Maeve back from the Ether?”
Lianan tilted her head, considering. “In exchange for this information, you will sing me a song.”
“A song?” Tiernan asked as a guitar materialized in his hands. The neck was smooth rosewood and the body was made of spruce, expertly carved with engravings of whorls and stars along the outer edge. He strummed it once and the tone was bright, perfectly in tune.
The will ó wisp seated herself on the edge of an opened flower petal once more, then smoothed her skirt, waiting patiently.
He stole a glance at Aran, who lifted his brows in return, offering a hesitant shrug.
“Very well. I accept your terms.” Tiernan cleared his throat. “A song in exchange for the information on how to bring Maeve back home.”
Lianan simply nodded, and his fingers lightly thrummed the strings, a haunting melody echoing through the field of long green grass and pretty flowers.
