Heart of the Fae (The Otherworld #1)(56)

The thoughts plagued her throughout the evening. Homesickness was a bitter taste in her mouth, leaving bile rolling in her stomach and an empty hole in her chest. She missed them. Briana would know what to do with a man who wouldn’t listen. Rosaleen would charm him with her innocent curls and girlish laughter. Papa would give him a pipe and set him down to talk about adventures and traveling.

Sorcha? She would hover in the corner, waiting until someone asked for something. She was far more comfortable taking care of others than she was being the center of attention.

“Sorcha.” The wind whispered through her window. “Sorcha, come to me.”

Something tugged deep in her belly. The compulsion to move was not a choice, but an order. Her feet slid across the floor even as her mind wailed that she didn’t want to move. She didn’t know who called out to her.

She watched as if someone else moved her hand, turned the door handle, and pushed the door open.

Macha stood in the midst of swirling white lights. They sparkled upon her shoulders and cast a cold gleam upon her eyes. She lost all color, standing in the moonlight with shadows twining through her hair.

“Lady Fae,” Sorcha said. Her feet halted at the edge of the dock. “I had not thought to see you here.”

“No, I imagine you didn’t. Why else would you have washed your filth in my fountain?”

“It was the blood of a child. One of your children.”

“I do not call all faeries my children, nor do I lay claim to a Pooka.” She spat the last word as if it were a curse. “The Unseelie can have their animals, mine are among the Seelie.”

“Is that how you would be known? As a mother who cast aside her offspring?”

“You have become daring, that is good. You will need to be strong for this task.”

“What more could you possibly ask me to do?” Sorcha’s jaw dropped. “I’m already trying to cajole him to come to the mainland.”

“Where is your success? I watch you making friends, not convincing the lord of this isle to leave.”

Sorcha couldn’t argue with that. She hadn’t done much. “I’m trying to befriend him so I might convince Stone that—”

“Stone?” Macha raised her eyebrows. “You’ve named him?”

“Well, yes. How else are we supposed to converse?”

The waters rippled as Macha stepped forward. Will-o'-the-wisps scattered, darting over the lily pads to safety. Ragged edged clothing revealed glinting weapons strapped to her arms and thighs.

Sorcha swallowed hard. She would accept her death if it came now. There was no honor in forcing a man to leave his home, and she refused to give up that part of herself. Stone deserved to make the choice.

“You are a coward,” Macha whispered. She reached out and ghosted her fingertips across Sorcha’s throat. “You hesitate because you wish him to make this decision for you. If you fail, it is not your fault. It is his.”

“That’s not true,” her throat convulsed. “I don’t want to force him to make a decision he isn’t prepared for.”

“While you wait, your people are dying.”

“My family?”

“Your father, as promised, is alive. The blood beetle plague is spreading, and you are forgetting your purpose.”

“I couldn’t forget that.”

“It does not matter to me whether you fulfil your deal. But the deal still stands. If you do not bring the master of this isle back to the mainland, then I will release my hold upon your father’s health. I need not remind you how poorly he was doing when you left.”

Sorcha’s entire body shook. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“You might not be entirely in the Otherworld, but you are on the border. Time moves differently here.”

“What?”

Macha stepped back from her, a tired and knowing smile on her face. “Take care, little human. I will do my best to help you, but time is not on your side.”

She stumbled backwards, barely catching herself on the edge of the dock. What was she saying? Her mind whirled.

“How long have I been gone?” Sorcha cried out. “How long, Macha?”

“That is not for me to say. Hurry, child.”

“Macha! Answer my question!”

The water rippled slightly as magic brushed its surface and the Tuatha dé Danann disappeared.

Tears burned in Sorcha’s eyes, streaming down her cheeks as she panicked. Had she been gone for months? Years? How could she have forgotten that time was different here?

But she wasn’t in the home of the Faerie, not really. Hy-brasil straddled the line between Otherworld and her world. She couldn’t have been gone more than a few months, could’ve she?

“What must they think of me?” she whispered. “I did not desert you! I would never do that.”

But she had. Sorcha had let memories of her family become substitute for the real thing. In doing so, she forgot the warmth of their touch, the sound of their voice, the lingering support of their embrace.

“I’m so sorry. I should never have lost myself in the magic of this place.”





Chapter Eight





THE STORM





Sorcha paced in front of the kitchen door. She’d spent the entirety of two days mulling over Macha’s words, replaying what she might say and how he might react. The problem was she didn’t know. Stone was a rather unpredictable person. First he was horrible, then he was kind, then he wouldn’t even look at her.