Beyond the Pale: A Thin Veil Novella (The Thin Veil Book 3) (7 page)

“It’s quite possible,” Kier said. “It just
feels
like poison, doesn’t it? The way he’s spreading lies and rumors and fear. It’s like he’s infecting our people.” Felix still looked unconvinced. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. “So we just need to find this dyad to which the prophecy refers. Someone or something that should not be. Eolas thinks we need to wait for to prophecy to fulfill itself, but what if this dyad never comes? What if…” She froze mid-sentence as the idea hit her. “I could do it.”

Felix was watching her warily. “You could do what?”

“Fulfill the prophecy. I could
become the dyad
.” Her words started to tumble out as a plan formed in her mind. “At first I thought maybe Brogan and his human woman would have a child. But even if it did happen, by the time that child grew to strength it might be too late. If Lorcan attacks Ériu, the child might be killed along with everyone else. But what if one of
us
becomes part human?” Realizing that she was ranting, she paused to take a deep breath.

“Kier, that’s crazy,” Felix said softly.

“Why? Why should we wait around for something to happen? Maybe
this
is what the prophecy was referring to.”

“Even if it was, how could being part human help you defeat Lorcan? Or heal the land?”

“Because that’s what Cairpre mac Edaine said would happen, and according to Eolas, he never made a prophecy that didn’t come true. And it just feels like the right thing to do. We know our people and our land are in trouble, and it says that a dyad will cure the land of poison. We can’t just sit around and wait; we need to take action. Now, before it’s too late.”

“How?” Felix was shaking his head incredulously. “How would you even do such a thing?”

“I need a druid. In the old stories, it’s always when the druids and the Danann worked together that the greatest magic is performed.” She paused. “Lorcan told me that,” she said quietly, remembering the many long conversations they’d had. Then she shook her head, trying to clear those memories away. “I need to find a druid who can turn me into a human.”

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but just then a wave of dizziness washed over her, and the healer lunged forward to steady her. He held both of her arms tightly and looked her in the face. “Kier. I know you want to stop Lorcan. I know you want to fix whatever is happening to the trees. I know you want to fix
everything
. But look what you’re doing to yourself. If what you say about Lorcan is true, and we are going to come to war, what the people will need most is a strong, healthy queen. They won’t need a dyad, and they certainly won’t need a human. They will need
you
. Now tell me, when did you start feeling this way?”

“It’s been a couple of weeks. I’m just tired. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Some—like Lorcan—think there is nothing we can learn from the humans, but I’ve come to believe that they can teach us a great deal—not only about their race, but about ours. I know that we are very different from them, but I think one of the secrets to our long lives and general good health is that there is very little stress in our lives. I’ve often wondered how our bodies would react if we were to live like humans—in a world of toil, in which we fight for our very survival and struggle to feed our children…” His piercing blue eyes met hers. “Would I be correct in saying that you have been under a fair amount of stress lately, Kier?”

To her own dismay, Kier burst into tears. Felix looked startled at first, then sat down next to her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I have to fix it,” she whispered. “I drove him to this. If I had stayed with him, if I hadn’t married Brogan, none of this would be happening.”

Felix turned her head so that she had to look at him. “No, Kier. I know you two were…close. But he deceived you. You had no idea he would respond like this. And there’s still time. We can still stop him. None of this is your fault. Now I need you to lie down so I can examine you.”

She stifled her tears—what was wrong with her?—and tried to come up with a plan for how she could find a druid who would help her. Meanwhile, Felix hovered his hands over various parts of her body: first her head, then her heart, then her stomach. She felt each part of her grow warm as he passed his hands over it, chanting softly under his breath. It was a pleasant sensation, and she began to feel herself grow calm and sleepy. This disturbed her.

“Wait,” she said, sitting up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just helping you relax while I examine you,” he said, gently pushing her shoulder so that she would lie back down.

“I don’t want to relax,” she said, resisting his hand and sitting up straight again.

His voice was strangely urgent. “Kier, what you’re planning—it won’t work. You said yourself you can’t do this without a druid, and you know full well that there are none in Tír na nÓg. You’d have to go to Ériu to find one, and all the sidhe are closed.”

“Not all of them,” Kier said bitterly.

“They are, actually.”

Both Kier and Felix jumped at the voice from behind them. Brogan stood in the doorway. “You were right,” he said, his face ashen. “I’ve been a fool.”

Neither Kier nor Felix said anything, but Felix edged away toward the row of cabinets that stood at the opposite end of the room. Kier sat up.

“How are you feeling?” Brogan asked tentatively.

“Fine,” she answered without elaborating.

“I should have been honest with you,” Brogan said. “It’s the least you deserve. The human woman—Maeve—well, we’ve been together for years, long before you and I were married. And I
do
care for her. But my priorities have not been where they should be. My priority is you, Kier. You’re my wife. I know ours was an arranged marriage, but I have grown very fond of you. And I believe you feel the same way about me. It hasn’t been a torrid love affair, but maybe, with time, our affection for each other can grow into something deeper. Once all of this is over.” When Kier still said nothing, he continued. “I told her that she would never see me again.”

Finally, Kier spoke, a small smile on her lips, “You’re a good man, Brogan, and a great king, when you’re thinking clearly. You’re a dreadful husband, but you’re right—maybe that can change. What’s important is that we don’t give Lorcan any access to Ériu. You and I…we’ll figure that out later. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Then she swallowed her desire to either kiss him or punch him, and told him everything she had learned. Then, haltingly, she told him of her plan to become the dyad. “I just need a druid to help cast the spell,” she said.

A strange shadow passed over his features, and he shook his head firmly. “It’s far too dangerous, Kier—we don’t even know what a spell like that would do to you. It could kill you!”

“But don’t you think it’s worth the risk?” she said.

“Not to me,” he said.

“It’s our best chance,” she insisted. “I need you to trust me.”

“I do trust you, but it’s too risky.” Brogan turned to Felix, who had rejoined them. “You know of her plan?” Felix nodded. “Then surely you agree—it cannot be done without harm to her.”

Felix looked between the two of them, as though trying to find the correct words to use. “It
is
too risky,” he said slowly. “But not because I believe it would harm her… Kier, you are pregnant.”

Seven months later

Kier paced the floor of her bedroom, her hands wrapped around her protruding stomach. “Shhhh,” she whispered. “It will all be okay.” The baby was a feisty one, constantly kicking and moving. But today she seemed more agitated than usual. Kier tried to keep herself calm, but she knew the baby could sense her anxiety. Danann mothers were often able to communicate with their children in the womb, not in words, but in images and bursts of emotion. “Your father is off fighting,” she told her child. “But he’ll come home. He always does.” She forced herself to stop pacing, and sat down in a chair near the window. She looked out over the land she loved. At least a quarter of it had turned a dull, sickly color, as though a thick layer of dust lay over it. Like ashes, she thought, thinking of the prophecy. Softly, she started to sing, a song her mother had often sung to her, a tribute to the beauty of Tír na nÓg, the most beautiful land in all the worlds, made by the Tuatha Dé Danann, for the Tuatha Dé Danann. Except now the Elders had gone to the Four Cities, and so many others seemed to think Ériu held more appeal than their home. “This is where we belong,” she cooed to the life inside her. She closed her eyes and focused on the surge of happiness the baby was feeling, hoping that she would feel that way herself someday soon.

The war had started sooner than expected. Somehow, Lorcan had amassed enough followers to make an attack on the Hall, demanding that King step down and join the humans he so loved. Brogan’s forces had easily repelled them, but Lorcan had escaped, and more attacks had followed. The rebels did not assault the Hall again, but instead started claiming sections of Tír na nÓg for Lorcan. When Brogan would send his warriors to reclaim his territory, they would meet Lorcan’s forces in open battle. Sometimes the king’s warriors won. Sometimes they lost. But as the deaths piled up, it soon became apparent who the real winner was.

A knock on the door startled Kier out of her reverie. With effort, she rose from the chair and called out, “Who is it?”

“I have a message for you, my lady,” came the voice of one of her maidservants. Kier opened the door, and the servant handed her a folded piece of parchment, sealed with gold wax. Once she was alone again, Kier sat back down and opened it. Her heart stopped when she recognized the curved, slanted handwriting.

My dearest Kier,

It is time. We belong together, you and I, and now I have the power to give you everything you deserve. I know you think you are doing what is best by standing with Brogan, but you are wrong. If you truly want to do what is best for our people, then you must stop this senseless war. I do not relish the killing of our own blood, but I will do whatever I must in order to renew the pride and glory of our great race. You know that your husband’s feeble attempts to side with the humans will fail, and will result in the destruction of his own people. I do not wish this.

I know you long for peace, my dove. And it can come. You have the power to stop this madness, to stop the killing. You only have to persuade your husband to step down as king and re-open the sidhe to Ériu. If he does this, I will let him live. If he does not, then I will have no choice but to challenge him face to face. You know what I am capable of, Kier. You know that I will win.

But it doesn’t have to come to this. You can bring us peace, my heart. I’m counting on you—we all are.

With enduring affection,

Lorcan

Kier read the letter through twice, her hands trembling. Then she ripped it into shreds and tossed them into the fire that burned in the grate. Lorcan was right about one thing: it
was
up to her. She could bring peace to them all. But not in the way he thought. She knew Brogan would die before he would cede power to Lorcan, and she would never ask him to do such a thing. If they could just hold out a while longer, until the baby was born, she could put her plan into action.

She had spent countless hours in the library, poring over the ancient texts and studying the spell books the druids had left behind when they left Tír na nÓg for Ériu. She had found the spell to turn a Danann into a human—or the closest thing to it. It was quite clever really. The druid would take away her fire-gift, giving her the gift of humanity instead. Then she would be the dyad, and she would rid the land of Lorcan’s poison. There was still the problem of finding a druid, but she was certain she would be able to convince Brogan to open a sidh just long enough for her to slip through to Ériu. Once the transformation was complete, she would contact him using her starstone, and he’d bring her back to Tír na nÓg. She looked out of the window again. Somewhere out there, Brogan and so many of their friends were fighting. The baby kicked hard, and Kier gasped. “Calm down, little one. You just get here safely, and then we will end this madness.”

Two days later, Kier was still in her room. For her own safety, she had been confined to the Hall once the fighting had reached a certain point. She missed her trips to the library, but Eolas had sent her a large stack of books to help her pass the time. Riona would occasionally stop in for a visit, but she had her two young children to worry about while Ruadhan fought by the king’s side. And so it was with delight that she heard a knock on the door, followed by the sound of her brother’s voice on the other side.

“Brion!” she cried, flinging her arms around him when he came in. He untangled himself from her embrace and kissed her cheek.

“How are you, sister?” he asked, his eyes on her round belly.

“I’m going mad, to be honest,” she answered. “Tell me what’s happening, I want to know everything.”

“There will be time for that later,” he said. “I need you to come with me.”

“Why? What has happened? Is it Brogan? Is he—?” She felt her heart plummet like a stone, and she doubled over in pain as the baby started to kick in panic.

“Brogan is fine,” Brion assured her. “But he summoned me to move you. He received information that an attack on the Hall is imminent.”

“What about the servants?” Kier asked, her eyes wide with alarm.

“I’ve given instructions that they are free to flee to wherever they can find safety. We suspect that Lorcan himself is coming to lead the attack. He has become very powerful, Kier. Each new death has infused him with more abilities. I do not think we could withstand him.”

“Where is Brogan?” Kier asked.

“I do not know,” he answered. “I received word via a messenger, bearing his seal. But we must move quickly.”