Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(12)
She looked over her shoulder at the faerie who watched her with calculating eyes. Macha reclined on the mossy ground, her fingers playing in the burbling water of her shrine.
“Why are you doing this?” Sorcha asked one last time.
“I, too, have been at the mercy of men, more times than I wish to recount. My mother would tell you the best way to answer them is to remain steadfast, quiet, and continue doing the right thing.” Macha’s eyes flashed brilliant green. “I am not a woman, but sword and shield. I will carve my own path or I will force others to create it for me.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Their gazes met and Macha smiled. “You are the same, little human. They tell you time and time again you are a pool of still water. Yet, we both know underneath the surface a tempest rages. I will enjoy seeing your claws grow.”
Unsettled, Sorcha plunged into the forest. Branches pulled at her clothing and tugged at her hair. She did not let them hold her. This was no longer a safe place, no longer a haven.
Her breath sawed out of her body in ragged gasps. She had made a deal with a faerie. What had she been thinking? Such a contract was binding.
What if she didn’t find the cure? Sorcha stumbled out of the forest and fell onto her hands and knees near the carriage road. Had she agreed to go on a wild goose chase for the rest of her life? Would she spend eternity searching for an impossible thing?
She couldn’t breathe enough air. It stuck in her throat and made her chest ache. Her ribs expanded, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to breathe.
Logically, she knew this was a panic attack. Some part of her mind recognized her imagination carrying her away from sanity. Her body did not recognize this, and vomit rose from her stomach.
She coughed as she expelled her breakfast violently. Mucus hung in streams from her nose and mingled with the drool dripping from her lips.
What had she done?
“Inhale, Sorcha,” she muttered. “One breath. Two breaths.”
In and out, she counted every heartbeat and movement of her lungs. Birds chirped in the trees nearby. Twenty-seven chirps before they stopped. Carriage wheels creaked and stones crunched under their weight.
Her fingers curled in the soil. She would be all right. There was a cure. There had to be a cure because faeries couldn’t lie.
Now it was up to her, as it always had been, to save her people. Her family. She could find the one thing that would save them all and kill the blood beetles. Her life had meaning again, other than just being the midwife who serviced both a brothel and the entire town.
“Is that Sorcha?” The sound of the carriage paused. Hooves stamped the ground, making her flinch. “Sorcha, darling, what are you doing? It is not safe to be on the road in the twilight hours!”
The shrill voice made her wince. “Dame Agatha. It is so good to see you again.”
“Well, I should hope it would be under better circumstances than finding you on the side of the road! Get up, child.”
The words were too similar to the faerie’s. Sorcha pushed back onto her haunches, wiped her hands against her plaid, and staggered to her feet. Panic fled to the back of her mind, resolve and purpose taking its place.
A red carriage had paused in front of her. The wheels gleamed with gold paint, along with the emblem of a rose. A delicate flowered curtain drew back from the small window and framed Dame Agatha’s aged face.
“How are you feeling?” Sorcha wearily asked her least favorite patient.
“Well, I was just about to call upon you, Sorcha. I have exciting news!”
“You’re to be blessed with a child?”
“Again!”
“Again,” Sorcha repeated with a sigh. Her lie had been the truth after all. “Congratulations are in order, then. I suppose you’ll be stopping by the brothel soon?”
“Oh goodness, no, I’ll need you to come to me!”
Dame Agatha had never come to the brothel for any of her treatments. She considered their home to be a den of miscreants and thieves, no matter how many times Sorcha assured her it was the safest place in Ui Neill.
She wiped her mouth on a sleeve, trying her best to ignore the acidic taste of vomit on her tongue. “This is not your usual carriage, Agatha.”
“Oh goodness, no. A dear friend loaned this to me. I’m going to visit them! Certainly, you’ve heard of the MacNara twins. Lovely folk.”
Sorcha froze. “Twins?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard of them yet? They are new to this area, but the nicest family you’ll ever meet. So giving! So progressive!”
She glanced towards the forest. “Thank you, again, for making this easy on me.”
Movement stirred branches nearby. Sorcha thought she saw a flash of unnatural green and the glint of fiery hair.
“Agatha? Might your friends have need of a midwife?”
“Well I don’t see why not! You know I love having you meet my friends, Sorcha. Not your sisters, of course, I’m certain you understand why. Do come with me! It will be so refreshing to have a new face at these boring social gatherings.”
Sorcha looked down at her earth stained dress and the dried crust of vomit on her sleeve. Her sisters would be far more presentable, even after a hard day's work. It was a shame Agatha would never realize that.
“It would be my honor, Agatha.” Sorcha stepped onto the footrest and opened the carriage door. Black cushions and waxed wood covered the interior of the impressive carriage.