Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(16)

“I am strong,” Sorcha interjected. “I have brought countless children into this world. I know the cruelty of man first-hand, and I fear very little. There is much for me to lose if you don’t help me.”

The words seemed to catch Cormac’s interest. He canted his head to the side and asked, “Like what?”

“My father.”

He snorted. “My father was a king among mortal men, and he did little for me. Try again.”

“My sisters. They live with my father, and if he dies of the blood beetle plague, they will become ill as well. I will not watch them die.”

“You love your sisters?”

“More than I can say.”

“In that, we see eye to eye.” He released his hold upon Concepta’s hand to trail his fingers through her golden curls, dragging a thumb across her lips. “Fine, we will help you.”

“You know how to find the cure?”

“Our mother does not lie. We know how to cure the blood beetle plague.”

Her heart stopped. The relief surging through her veins made her knees weak. “How?” she whispered. “Please tell me how, and what I need to do.”

“Oh, it’s not as simple as just telling you. We don’t have the cure. We only know where it is.”

“Is it an object?”

“In a way,” Cormac chuckled and his sister kicked her feet into the air. “The cure comes in the form of a person, at least for you.”

“A person?”

“One simple being whom you will return to us.”

Concepta rolled to her side. “You’ll bring him back to the mainland, and then you’ll have your cure. Eventually.”

“Why would I bring a person here? What does that have to do with the blood beetle plague?”

“You don’t need to know the information. All you need to do is travel to Hy-brasil.”

“The cursed isle?” Sorcha blinked. “It can only be seen every seven years. I don’t have time to wait seven years!”

“Then it’s lucky for you that the time to see that isle is actually…” Concepta looked up at her brother. “Now?”

“In a few weeks.”

“In a few weeks,” she repeated. “And then you can see the isle. You can get our faerie, by whatever means necessary of course. Bring him back, and you’ll have your cure.”

Sorcha shook her head in confusion. “You’re not making any sense. Do you have the cure or not?”

“We do.”

“Then why aren’t you giving it to me now? Your mother said you owe her a favor!”

Concepta’s eyes sparked yellow again. She lifted herself into a crouch upon the stone lip of the fountain. “Are you saying I’m a liar?”

“We both know faeries can’t lie.”

“My mother’s favor saved your life. You owe us another, which means you will bring back that pathetic excuse for a Prince! And if he screams or cries when he sees me I will bite off his tongue with my teeth!”

A harp string snapped. Sorcha startled at the sound and turned to see all inhabitants of the room had fled. The musician was the last, the fabric of her dress caught on her own instrument.

Sorcha’s teeth chattered against each other. “What are you going to do to him, if I bring him back?”

“That is none of your concern,” Cormac said. “Do we have a deal?”

She was making too many deals with faeries all in one day. Her gut screamed that this was a bad idea. Macha was one thing, the revered Tuatha dé Danann valued female life and strength. These two? Some thread in their mind had unraveled, leaving gaping holes where insanity grew.

She watched Concepta crawl into her brother’s lap and stroke the flat planes of his chest.

“She will say yes,” Concepta said.

“Will she?”

“She can’t let go of a future where she is the ‘hero.’ So many people have told her ‘Sorcha, you are just a woman. You cannot do what you think you can do.’”

“Humans are idiots.”

“Humans are more than idiots. They are good only to feed the earth when they die.”

Sorcha swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Concepta’s head snapped around, glaring over her shoulder with cat-like eyes. “You’ve hurt people your entire life. A stillborn child you couldn’t save, a screaming pain-filled night of a woman who did not desire a babe, a changeling you left near the woods!”

“I did what I had to do. I have never killed anyone.”

“But you will. Someday, everyone does. Whether by choice or not, we’re all killers. It’s far past time for you to accept that.”

Sorcha straightened her spine. She was no murderer. If this woman wanted to prove something with her cruel words, then all she managed to do was set Sorcha’s resolve. If she had to choose between an unknown man and her family, Sorcha would always choose her family.

“All right. I’ll bring him back.”

“Alive,” Cormac added.

“Alive and well. I will convince him to return and I won’t force him.”

Concepta giggled. “You can try. I don’t think he’ll come back at all. Still, it will be fun to know someone is bothering him. You’ll leave now.”