Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(51)

His mother stepped forward, a very tall woman thin as a birch tree. Sorcha stepped back to give her room and made eye contact.

The woman’s glamour shimmered and fell. An adult Pooka looked far different from her son. She was an amalgamation of all mammals. Patches of light and dark fur blended together until she appeared more patchwork quilt than person. Her elongated nose and face were faintly horse-like.

“Thank you,” she said in her deep voice. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“You would have done the same for me, if it came to that.”

“All the same, you are welcome in my house.”

Sorcha nodded. She waited until the kitchen emptied and then sagged against the table. Exhaustion made even breathing difficult, her lungs working overdrive to keep inflated. Her hands ached from overuse.

She held them out, flexing her fingers in and out.

“You did well,” Pixie said.

“I must see him every week for at least a full moon. That wound could still get infected.”

“I’m sure his mother would appreciate it.”

A piece of bread with sliced meat appeared in Sorcha’s line of vision. Startled, she glanced up.

“Thank you.” She held up her bloody hands. “Perhaps a basin of water first?”

“Come with me.”

Sorcha stood on wobbling legs and followed Pixie through the gardens. Cian was absent from his usual post, a blessing she was thankful for. Bantering with the gnome would be difficult when she could hardly see straight.

They crossed a small wooden bridge in the garden and onto another part of the castle grounds Sorcha had yet to see.

It was peaceful here. Water burbled out of an aged fountain. The stone woman inside it poured water from a wound on her chest. She clutched the sword which had plunged between her ribs and held her sword up to continue fighting. Flowers grew wild in this section of the gardens. They tangled with each other, creating walls of roses and thorns.

“I didn’t know roses grew this time of year,” she mumbled.

“This island differs from what you’re used to. Faerie touched lands bear fruit even in the strangest of times. Why else would we have strawberries this late in the year?”

“Fair point.”

“You may wash in this fountain.”

“This one?” Sorcha gestured. “This looks far too nice to be a washing fountain.”

“Long ago, it was a place of worship.” Pixie’s expression fell. “No longer.”

Sorcha could see it was a sacred place. Blooms of every color stretched as far as she could see. The roses grew with wild abandon, vines stretching all around them. And the woman herself appeared eerily familiar.

She leaned forward to peer at the face. “Is this Macha?”

“It is. I thought it fitting you wash in her waters.”

“I won’t desecrate sacred ground.”

“You’re washing innocent blood from your hands. You saved him while telling her stories, Macha will appreciate that.”

Sorcha supposed she was correct. The red-headed woman was fierce. Perhaps she would appreciate a little blood in her waters more than she would wine or gold coins.

She leaned down and dunked her hands into the cool stream. It ran over her hands with a soft, trickling sound, easing the aches from her bones. She saw another face in the ripples. A pointed face with wild hair, eyes flashing an unnatural green.

Macha was watching her. The Tuatha dé Danann winked at her, disappearing when Sorcha released the water she held in her cupped hands.

Her purpose burned bright in her mind. These people may be kind, but they should not distract her. Papa needed her. Rosaleen, Briana, and all her sisters needed her to stay focused. A small boy with a broken arm shouldn’t so easily sway her.

But he did. They all did. With their thoughtful gifts, their easy going way, and the magical way this isle captivated her. Sorcha had always been an outsider among her family. The witch’s child who knew too much. Here? She was just another human girl who could not possibly understand all the wondrous things around her.

If given the choice, she would choose this life over her old one. It wasn’t an option, but was entertaining to muse upon at least. She sighed and turned back towards Pixie.

“I am exhausted and my bed sounds like a respite I have earned. If you don’t mind, I will take your gracious offer of food.”

“Of course, dearie.” Pixie handed the sandwich to her wrapped in a cloth.

When had she gotten a cloth? Sorcha stared down at the bundle in her hands. She was missing details so large as this?

She shook her head to clear it. “Perhaps a good sleep will clear my mind.”

“Unlikely, it’s a rather confusing place for a human such as yourself. I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long without losing your head.”

“Do others?”

“You’re the first human who’s shown up on our shore,” Pixie said with a smile. “You’re new to us, although some have experiences with humans. We’re all going through some learning.”

“I appreciate your patience.” Ironic, the words that slipped off her tongue. Hadn’t a certain king asked her to do the same for him? And she had mocked him.

“You may wish to walk around the castle to get to the hut.”

Sorcha arched a brow. “Why? It’s faster to go back through Cian’s garden.”