“Where are you?”
Queen Una of the Daoine Sidhe passed her hand over the Well of Sight again and again, the scenes before her changing with each motion. First a small village near the sea, then a bustling city, a faery ring, a park with a lovely, placid lake … but she didn’t find what she was looking for.
She searched for MacKenzie McCallum, a young woman for whom she felt a particular responsibility because it was her fault the lass had been exiled to the human realm nearly two hundred years before.
But at least wee MacKenzie had been given the chance to live as a human instead of a dog. Una had changed her from a wolfhound to a woman all those many years ago … granted, it had been done in a fit of pique against King Finnbheara, and extending MacKenzie’s life sevenfold may have pushed the boundaries a bit, but still …
The lass should be embracing life with every breath, though Una was sure MacKenzie was moping about somewhere like some sort of bridge troll. “She cannae expect normal when she used to be a dog,” Una muttered.
Her oldest son, Connor, walked into the room. “Who’re you spying on now?” he asked with a smile on his handsome face. His deep tones reflected the cultured schooling he’d received in the human realm, although his voice still carried the lilt of the Sidhe. He was tall and strong, the best warrior the Fae had.
And that quickly, she knew a way to help both of these wayward children. Connor would be just the thing for MacKenzie. Una would use her son’s kind heart against him, as it were, but for his own good, of course.
“I don’t think I like the look on your face.” One dark eyebrow rose as he slowed his pace. The lad acted as if he didn’t want to get too close to her.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. The males of her race were so suspicious. Of course, it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that the women of the Daoine Sidhe were known to be a sneaky lot.
“Why, Connor, me love. Whatever do ye mean?” Una pasted what she hoped was an innocent look on her face which, by the dark expression on his, failed woefully.
“You’re up to something. I recognize that look in your eyes.” He narrowed his gaze. “You and your machinations. Whose life are you about to make miserable now?”
“Oh, go on wi’ ye.” She smiled and patted him on the cheek as if he were a wee boy in knee britches. The gesture would throw him off. “Ye’re just too distrustful, is what ye are.”
Sure enough, a scowl crossed his features, showing why he was sometimes called Faolchú Cnoc Meadha–The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha. Where most of the Daoine Sidhe were of fair complexion, he sported the darkest of hair and had skin with a tawny cast. And while the others of the trooping faeries were glad of heart, Connor tended to be serious and brooding. She’d have thought he was a Changeling had she not birthed the lad herself.
Then, of course, there was the matter of his curse …
And if that wasn’t enough for the lad to bear, here he was with one blue eye and one brown. Both of which were narrowed on her at this very moment.
She pretended reluctance. “Weel …” Waving her hand over the Well, she created a picture from her memory, and pointed to a lovely young woman with short, curly blonde hair and sparkling eyes the deep blue of the ocean. “See that lass there?” She watched him lean in for a closer look.
“Aye.” He nodded, his gaze intent upon the young woman.
Una gripped her fingers together to keep from clapping in glee. He was interested. So like his da, he was. Show him a pretty face, and other interesting bits and pieces, and he couldna look at anything else.
Of course, Connor had more moral fortitude than did his da. She knew her son. Once he committed himself to something, he stayed committed. He was perfect for MacKenzie. “I’ve lost track of her. It’s important I make sure she’s doin’ all right.”
When she didn’t go on, her son shot her a look of impatience. “Why?” he prompted.
This is where it could get tricky. She crossed her fingers behind her back. “The poor thing has spent the last several years pinin’ for a cure.”
“For what?” he asked, staring intently at the young woman.
Victory was close at hand. Una fought to keep her feet still; she so wanted to dance in glee. “Her loneliness and isolation; the grief she refuses to acknowledge at bein’ exiled to the realm of humans.” Una heaved a sigh, looking at her son from under her lashes. “It would mean the world to me if ye’d find her, lad. Just to set me mind at ease that she’s doin’ well.”
Connor trailed a long finger across the surface of the water, making the young woman’s image ripple. He seemed deep in thought, a frown pulling again at his brow. Finally he asked, “But if she’s Fae, I’d be a danger to her.”
“Oh, she’s no’ Fae, Connor, no’ really. I dinna think ye’d be putting her in any danger.” She made sure she maintained a mixture of concern and hope on her face. He was such a stubborn man. Got that trait from his da, he did.
“We’re still a day away from the full moon anyway,” he replied in an absentminded way, still staring at the image of the lass in the Well.
Una wondered at his thoughts. She knew what he saw: a petite woman with a pixie face, stubborn chin and slender body, dressed in a knit top and flirty skirt.
“It shouldn’t take long, should it?” He trailed his finger in the water again, not taking his eyes off the reflection of the young woman.
“Weel, ye could also be about findin’ the woman who can break yer curse.” Una laid one hand on her son’s brawny forearm. When he made to draw away from her, she tightened her fingers. “It’s past time, Connor. Ye deserve some happiness, too.”
His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching, then he relaxed, though his face remained solemn. “Now’s not the time to be looking, Mother. One more day and the full moon is upon me; I’ll kill anything Fae that comes across my path.”
Una’s heart clenched at the misery that had been visited upon her eldest child. The three nights of the full moon were the worst for him, a time when he could not control his beast. When the moon rose full and bright, and bathed the night in its silvery glow, Connor shifted into a werewolf. Because he would attack any of the Daoine Sidhe in that condition, the king forbade him to be anywhere within the Fae lands.
And so he was banished to the human realm for those three days.
“Then ye’ve no worries here, for this one isna Fae. Well, no’ much, she isn’t. No’ enough to put her in danger,” she said, and pointed back at the image in the Well. “The wee lass has been living under assumed names for just about the entire time she’s been in the human realm.” She shook her head, wincing a little to remember MacKenzie’s incredible sadness after she’d found and lost love. “She fell in love with a young man an’ they were married. Then he died from a lingering illness and … weel, she’s been alone ever since.”
Una pursed her lips and tapped one finger against her chin. “The last I knew, she was goin’ by the name Bridget O’Neill. An’, of course, she could have changed her appearance as well. Two hundred years with humans is a long time for someone who ages very slowly.” Una slid her hand up to his wide shoulder and patted it, trying to comfort this wild child of hers, this man so full of sorrow.
As if being the heir to the Daoine Sidhe throne weren’t enough, he was destined to carry a beast within him the rest of his days. Unless a cure could be found.
This had to work. The son of King Finnbheara had borne his curse too long.
With a wave of her hand, she brought up a closer view of the young woman. “This is how I remember her, the last time I ’saw’ her. But,” she said in a soft voice, laying her hand in the crook of his elbow, “you should have no worries. A day is plenty o’ time. All ye need to do is find her, talk to her, show her what a wonderful life she has, now that she’s human.”
“Now that she’s …” he cocked one brow. “And she used to be … ?”
“Oh, she was such a lovely wolfhound.”
