Page 68 of Her Irish Treasures
Aidan rolled his eyes and pulled an antique watch on a chain. He flicked it open. “Go.”
“When the Tuatha de Danaan first came to Ireland, Nuada was king.” Keane began in a gentle, sing-song voice, not rushed at all. “He lost his hand in battle against the Fir Bolg and was forced to step down. They chose Bres to lead as king because he was half Tuatha de Danaan and half Fomorian, and they thought he’d bring the best of both sides together. But they were horribly wrong. Bres allowed the Fomorians more and more power. As their darkness increased, they began to enslave the Tuatha de Danaan, destroying their light. Until all the light courts banded together and demanded that Bres step down as king.
“He did at once—but he secretly went to Balor and began to raise an army with the goal of wiping out all the courts who opposed him, even if that meant selling out to Evil Eye. With Balor’s help, Bres returned to retake Pillars on the Plain. Nuada had been magically restored to health, and with Lug’s help, they killed both Balor and Bres. Ireland’s future was secured for the light. Until the Tuatha de Danaan were later forced to retreat to the Land Beneath the Waves. Time?”
Aidan grunted sourly. “Three minutes.”
“No fair,” Ivarr retorted. “He skipped all the good stuff. Like how Balor locked his daughter in a tower to prevent her from filling the prophecy about his grandson killing him. Or how Balor’s eye worked in battle.”
I held up my hands, stilling their argument. “If they died in battle, why are we still having a problem with them now?”
“Oh that’s easy,” Keane replied. “Fae never really die. They may leave the mortal plane but they’re immortal. They come back, just like we treasures come back in one shape or another. It’s their power that brings us back.”
I rubbed my temples harder, trying not to wail. “Then how are we supposed to stop the changeling from taking me again? Or stop Balor from trying to capture Doran or one of you? If they can’t actually die?”
“Like I said earlier,” Warwick said. “It’s nigh impossible to kill a High Court fae, let alone an extremely old and powerful fae like Evil Eye. Even other Tuatha de Danaan couldn’t kill him for good. Our best bet is to weaken their power so much that they can’t easily return to the mortal plane for centuries. Chopping off his head, putting out his eye, or even magically poisoning him won’t actually kill a fae. It just slows him down.”
“Are you saying that if the Slaughterer cuts off your head that you won’t die?” Aidan asked in a soft, flat voice, more menacing because it wasn’t his normal growl.
“Aye, that’s exactly what I’m saying. It’ll hurt me power, sure.Shamrockedwould wink out of existence for a time. Summer Isle might sink beneath the waves. But I would still exist, and I will build my magic anew.”
Aidan’s hand reached over his shoulder toward one of the swords crossed on his back—as if he was going to test out the leprechaun’s words. My heart pounded desperately, and I locked my fingers around his wrist. Not to stop him, exactly. Just to hopefully calm him. To remind him that I was here.
That my heart was invested in all of them. Not just him.
Aidan sighed and dropped his hand to the bar, my fingers still on his wrist. “I’ll test your words another time.”
“Don’t be a bleedin’ idjit,” Doran growled. “You know his words to be true. I’ve vague memories of chopping off Evil Eye’s head myself a few times. Yet here we are, back on the mortal plane, battling him again.”
I fought to keep my emotions under wrap, but my voice quivered and my eyes burned. “There’s so much I don’t understand. There’s no way to win this. I’ll never be free of him.”
Doran rested his chin on the top of my head. “I know, love. We’ve dropped a lot on you, and you’ve been through hell and back again in a matter of days. Some sleep will set you to rights. You will be free of him. We’ll find a way.”
I nodded, though inwardly I groaned at the thought of going back to the hotel with the small, rickety beds. Or the huge, cold warehouse. Or Vivi’s. I was bone-deep weary and soul tired. Tired of being homeless. Of being in danger.
Of not being able to remember who I really was. What my life was supposed to be like.
“We’ve got you, love.” Doran picked me up, cradling me in his arms. “The lads worked some deals earlier and when we were rushing over here, we got the final notice that the sale went through. We have a much better place lined up for us now. A home, if you like it.”
I lifted my head, searching his face. “Really?”
“Absolutely. It’s a bit of a drive outside of the city, though. Unless Greenshanks would be so kind as to whisk us there.”
Warwick inclined his head. “I would be honored to assistmo stórin any way possible.” He waited a moment, his eyebrows rising expectantly. “I merely need the location.”
Keane opened his mouth but Aidan cut him off. “I’ll do the deed.”
Aidan leaned over the bar, his eyes fiercely intent. Slowly, he held his hand out to Warwick.
Holding my breath, I wasn’t sure what was happening. Visions flashed through my head. Aidan seizing Warwick’s hand, dragging him across the bar and trying to bash his head in. Swords clanging. Shouts and broken glass…
Warwick closed his hand around Aidan’s. Silence hung between us for what seemed like an eternity. I wasn’t sure what was happening. Some kind of silent arm-wrestling match? No, they weren’t straining.
The bar disappeared in a dizzying flash of green and gold. My head spun a moment and I blinked furiously, trying to refocus my vision. Crisp nighttime air stung my cheeks. Stars dotted the velvet sky. I hadn’t seen stars in forever. The city lights made stargazing impossible.
Doran strode up a few steps and I caught a glimpse of a wide porch with double doors swinging open. The interior of the house was dark but evidently he could see exactly where to go. He carried me through a few rooms while the guys flipped on lights behind us.
He paused, waiting a moment for Keane to catch up with us. He turned on the light, and I realized we were in a spacious bathroom. Scratch that. A dream master bath with a huge, tiled shower that two or three of the guys could use at the same time if they didn’t try to kill each other. A dreamy soaking tub with jets. All done in expensive-looking creamy marble, though the gold-tone faucets were too ostentatious for my taste and outdated.
