Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(13)

“You can tell me what you think of names for this newest little one!”

“Ah, how many is it now?”

“Nine, child. You should know, you’ve delivered them all!”

“Right,” Sorcha said as she settled onto the seat across from Agatha. “My apologies, I lost count at seven.”

“Truthfully, so did I. What do you think of Derval?”



Their carriage ride was dreadfully boring. Sorcha kept a smile plastered on her face and showed more teeth than was necessary. Agatha continued to prattle on without caring if anyone was listening. By the time they reached the stately manor of the MacNara twins, Sorcha was certain they had debated every name under the sun.

She was ready to get out of this cramped space. The scenery passed by at a slower pace than Sorcha could have seen if she was walking. The company turned out to be less than agreeable, and the destination could not live up to the promised entertainment.

But she would be a fool to not take this opportunity while it lasted.

They slowed to a stop, and the driver struck his hand against the ceiling. Sorcha opened the carriage door and stared up at the splendorous home. White marble gleamed in the splashed pink of the setting sun. The house was four stories high with rare glass windows. Twin staircases rose from the ground, meeting in a half circle that led to the red front door.

“My goodness,” Sorcha whispered.

“It is quite a sight, isn’t it?” Agatha said as she stepped out of the carriage. “They are impressive people with more wealth than they need. If they continue spending it on such things, I say let them keep it! Give us plebeians more sights like this. It does a body good to see real beauty.”

Normally, she wouldn’t agree. But the stately manor might change her opinions if it was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside.

Agatha smoothed a hand down the silk of her gown. It was an unusual choice for dealing with nobles partial towards velvet and embroidery.

Did the other woman know the twins weren’t human?

Tentatively, Sorcha asked, “Agatha, why are you meeting with the MacNara twins?”

“Oh,” she lifted a hand and fanned her face. “They invited me to their manor, so of course I said yes. It’s good to meet one’s neighbors.”

“They are hardly our neighbors, Agatha. They live half a day’s ride from us.”

Sorcha noted the way Agatha’s eyes slanted to the side. The other woman pressed a hand against her throat as though she might still the pulse fluttering there. “Can you keep a secret, dearest?”

“Yes,” Sorcha said, but she already knew what Agatha would say.

“The gossips aren’t always right, but it’s said the MacNara twins have some… gifts. I know in my progressed age that having a child will be difficult. But I already love this one as much as the rest, and I want it to survive.”

“You want to make a deal with them.”

“It’s not a deal with the devil, my goodness! They’re blessed.”

“They’re faeries, Agatha.”

A measured stare filled the silence, stilling Sorcha’s bitter tongue. “They are not faeries, Sorcha. There’s no such thing as faeries, but there are blessed people.”

Blessed? Sorcha wanted to smack some sense into the woman. Faeries were not blessed creatures hailing from the Heavens. They were earthen spirits making deals which required payment. Why couldn’t Agatha see the truth in these thinly veiled secrets?

For all she wanted to get started on this journey, Sorcha didn’t want Agatha’s life to hang in the balance. They shouldn’t stay here. Surely the cure could wait until the new babe arrived. The thought left a foul taste upon her tongue.

“It’s a bad idea to make deals with things you don’t understand,” Sorcha said. “Perhaps we should go.”

“Nonsense. We’ve made it this far, and I refuse to turn back.” Agatha lifted a hand when Sorcha opened her mouth. “I won’t hear any more of it, Sorcha. I’ve made my decision. You can come with me or not, though I will be sorely abused if you do not come with me. I invited you, and here you are. I’ve never known you to be a woman who goes back on her word.”

So, she was frightened to go on by herself. With a lifted brow, Sorcha reached out and took Agatha’s arm. “All right. Let’s go.”

The unrecognizable footman stayed with the carriage. As the women crested the stairs, the hair on Sorcha’s arms lifted. She glanced over her shoulder at the footman who had eerily not moved in the slightest.

“Sorcha?” Agatha asked.

“Everything is fine.” At the last possible second, Sorcha swung the hag stone around her neck into her hand. She lifted it to her eye and blinked.

He sat perched upon the carriage with natural grace, his long legs covered by fine, black cloth and a stately jacket pressed into crisp folds. She might have thought him human if he hadn’t been missing his head.

“Dullahan?” she whispered.

She dropped the hag stone and rushed after Agatha who was already entering the MacNara estate. The inside of the building was as stunning as its exterior. White walls gleamed with gold filigreed wallpaper. A grand stairwell of white marble and light gray swirls spiraled from the ground floor and higher.

A butler greeted them and draped Agatha’s pale blue cloak over his arm in a swath of color. His mustache twitched when Sorcha walked through the door, her slippers trailing mud across the pristine floor.