Through the Door (32 page)

As soon as Cedar crossed through the tree-sidh, she started looking around frantically. “Eden!” she called out. She felt Finn’s hand clamp over her mouth.

“Quiet!” he whispered, pulling her down behind a dry patch of brambles. Beside them was the tree that had served as the connecting sidh on this side. It was a tall, dead thing, gleaming ghostly white. Together they stared at it. Cedar could detect a faint glow, but she wasn’t sure if that was because it was a sidh or because the whiteness of the tree’s bark contrasted so much with the dingy grays and browns around them.

Finn whispered, “I think we can leave it open. I barely recognize it as a sidh, and I’m looking for it. I don’t think it will be easily noticed, and it will be good for us to have a way back in case…in case we need it.”

“What about the others?” Cedar asked. “You called Felix. Will they follow us through?”

Finn shook his head. “I don’t think so. I was on the phone with him when I first noticed the sidh. I told him I would go through, and asked him to be ready in case someone from Tír na nÓg tries to get to Ériu. My father can close it if it comes to that. If not, they’ll wait, at least for a while. The more of us there are over here, the more likely it is that we’ll be discovered.”

Cedar looked at Finn and felt a rush of warmth that bolstered her against the terror playing at the edges of her mind. She was glad he was with her, and not just because he kept her from feeling completely and utterly helpless. She had thought she might feel different here—bolder, more confident. This was, supposedly, her ancestral home. Still, she felt small and ordinary and exhausted, and filled with the same desperation to find her daughter before it was too late.

“So
this
is Tír na nÓg?” she asked, taking in the barren landscape.

He nodded, his face grim. “It is, or it was, I should say. This isn’t Tír na nÓg as I knew it, but we’re in the right place, if that’s what you mean.”

“Where do you think she is?”

He shook his head. “She could be anywhere, but if Lorcan has her she’ll be at the Hall, the seat of the High King.”

“Which way?” she asked, looking around.

“Hold on,” he said. “We need a plan.” He was quiet for a moment, still crouched in the brush.

“We need to get going! We can’t just sit here!”

“We’ll be of no help to her if we get ourselves killed before we even find her,” Finn said, laying a hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing. “Cedar, I know you’re not going to like this, but…I think you should go back.”

Her eyebrows raised and her jaw dropped. “Are you insane? We’re so close to her! We don’t have time to argue, so you might as well save your breath and drop it.”

He gave her a look that said he would drop it, but wasn’t happy about it. Then he said in a hushed and hurried voice, “Fine, but I’ll reach her quicker if I go alone. I can shift into something small and fast. The fact that we’re still alive right now means it probably wasn’t a trap. Eden must have created this sidh, which means she doesn’t need a door anymore. She can create a sidh from anything. Maybe she’s already escaped! If not, she’s probably being restrained somehow. I just need to free her, and she can use whatever is around us to make a sidh and escape to Ériu, back to Maeve’s. She can close the sidh behind us, and we’ll both be safe.”

Cedar listened to his plan with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. His reasoning made sense. She was slow and loud and weak, all things that would imperil their rescue mission.
And yet Maeve had told her
she
could save Eden.
We gave you the gift of humanity,
she had said.
It’s a strength, not a weakness.

Cedar’s forehead wrinkled as she tried to concentrate on what Finn was saying. She couldn’t help but feel that she was missing something, that they were all missing something. Surely, it was not as straightforward as merely finding Eden and spiriting her away. If Lorcan was so easily tricked, how had he stayed in power for so long, and brought an entire race of superbeings to its knees?

Use your humanity.

Cedar gasped as the answer came to her. She nearly laughed from the sheer simplicity of it. She put her hand on the trunk of the tree to steady herself. She was sure of it now. She
was
the dyad, the two-in-one, and the answer to the prophecy, just like Maeve had told her. She saw now how she could rescue Eden and prevent Lorcan from ever coming after her again. At the same time, she would be fulfilling the prophecy by purging the land of the poison that was Lorcan, saving not only Eden, but also Tír na nÓg…and earth.

She turned to Finn, who was looking at her with concern. “I need to go with you,” she said quietly but firmly.

“Cedar, I just finished listing all the reasons why that would be a bad idea.”

“Listen, you have no idea what you’re facing, right? There are a thousand things that could go wrong, and if you’re captured or killed, Eden is as good as dead. I can be Plan B.”

“What could you possibly do?”

She hesitated, and for the first time knew how Finn must have felt when he had hidden the truth from her to protect her. She took one of his hands in hers and said, “I have a plan,
but I can’t tell you what it is, not yet. You’re going to have to trust me.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. His eyes, slightly wounded, were intent on hers. “I do trust you, and I love you. You don’t have to tell me your plan. But plan or no plan, this is too risky. Please, just stay here and wait for me to come back. If I’m not here by sunset, go through the sidh and see if Eden got back to Ériu alone.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet, then brought her in close against his chest.

“I spent years thinking I’d never see you again,” he said. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have you back. It’s as if I’ve been given back my life. I can’t risk losing you again.”

“This isn’t about us,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “It’s about Eden. She needs me. I know I can save her.” Cedar felt moisture on her cheeks and wiped it away with the palm of her hand. “Please understand,” she pleaded. “I have to do this. I have to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

“You could be killed,” he said, his voice trembling.

“I’m not as helpless as you think I am,” she said, trying to fill her voice with conviction. “I’ll be careful. I’ll stay out of the way, hidden, just close enough to help if I can. But I need to be there. We have the starstones. Find out where Eden is, and let me know. Maybe it will be easy, like you say. If nothing goes wrong, we won’t have anything to worry about. I’ll head straight for the white tree and meet you on the other side. But I’m not going to stay here, not without knowing whether you and Eden are alive or dead or being tortured somewhere. I’m going with you.”

Finn flew above her in his eagle form, occasionally swooping down to tell her to wait or hide or change course based on something he had seen from high above. Without the sun, it was difficult to gauge how long they had been in Tír na nÓg, but finally Cedar saw in the distance a grand building that had to be the Hall. It was like no place she had ever seen on earth. Its towering walls of pure white would have been blinding in the sun. The Hall’s many spires twisted and danced through the air above the walls, and many-colored banners hung limp from them. She tried to imagine what it would have looked like on a sunny day, or with a slight breeze to send the banners soaring into the air.

To the west of the Hall stretched a large lake, or what Cedar assumed had once been a lake. She could see water in the distance, but it had obviously been steadily receding, leaving a vast swath of dry, parched earth in its wake. Beyond this once-lake rose a gray mountain range. Cedar squinted at one of the mountains, which seemed oddly misshapen, as if a giant had ripped it in two. She wondered if they would encounter any giants in Tír na nÓg.

She continued through the brush, avoiding the dusty road that led to the Hall, until at last she followed Finn into a small copse of trees, where he resumed his normal form.

“You should be safe if you stay here,” he said. “There are guards at the front entrance, but other than that there is little activity in the outer grounds. This place used to be alive and filled with people, but now…” He gave Cedar a long, searching look, then shook his head. “This is a mistake. I should have come alone. If something goes wrong…” He trailed off, his eyes full of a sudden panic.

Cedar wrapped her arms around his neck. “They think it’s impossible that either one of us could be here,” she said, trying to reassure him. “Even if you’re caught, they’ll think you acted alone. They won’t be looking for me. Do you have the starstone?”

He pulled out the pocket watch and quietly began to sing the song that made both stones glow with a soft light. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his voice, trying to fix it in her mind, hoping she could take that memory with her where she was about to go.

When she opened her eyes, he had stopped singing, and his face was only inches away. Then his lips were crushing hers, and she responded in kind, kissing him as hard and fierce as she could, as if she hoped to make a permanent imprint of herself on his body. When he reluctantly started to pull away, she held onto him.

“Finn,” she said urgently. “If I don’t…if something goes wrong, make sure you think of Eden, not of me. She has to come first, do you understand? No matter what happens. Get her home and take care of her. I know you’ll be a great father.
And I forgive you for everything, for leaving, and for not telling me the truth. I know you were just trying to protect me. And now you have to protect her. I’m trusting you with her life. Just…tell her how much I love her, how much I’ve always loved her. Tell her she’s the most important thing in the world to me. You’ll be fine. You’ll both be fine.”

She kissed him again, but softly this time, trying to communicate everything she wanted to say but dared not.

“We’re not saying good-bye,” he said. “We’re
all
going to be fine. I’m going to save Eden, and we’re all going home together. We’ll get to know each other again. You’ll paint, and we’ll have more children, and we won’t have to worry about any of this.”

She tried to smile at him and control the shaking in her voice. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so melodramatic, I’m just nervous. And…I love you. I want to make sure you know that.”

He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I know. I’ll see you soon.” Then he was gone. She couldn’t tell exactly what he had transformed into; all she could see was a small brown shape moving quickly through the dry grass.

As soon as he was out of sight, Cedar crept toward the edge of the trees and peered out. She thought about waiting to see if he did, in fact, succeed. Then she thought of him facing Lorcan, whose power apparently had no limit, and shuddered. No, she had to go through with her plan before both Finn and Eden were killed. She took several steps out into the open, and then stopped. Still she could see no one, so she started jogging in the direction of the Hall. Soon she saw a couple of guards standing by a small side entrance. They saw her coming and
tensed, waiting. She saw them exchange a confused glance as they realized she had no Lýra.

She stopped several feet in front of them and then raised her voice and said, “I am the daughter of the true High King, of Brogan and Kier. Take me to Lorcan at once.”

“Fionnghuala.”

Nuala opened her eyes to see Lorcan standing before her. She had fallen asleep, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. Then it came back to her, and she fought back a shudder. She would not show weakness to this bastard, not if she were still determined to conquer him.

“My lord?” she asked. She was lying on a bed in a round, windowless room. She struggled to sit up, a feat made difficult by the chains fastening her wrists to the wall behind her. Lorcan waved his hand, and the chains fell off.

“Crude, I know,” he said, “but you have not yet proven yourself.”

Beside her on the bed lay Eden, fast asleep or drugged or unconscious. Nuala couldn’t tell. The girl was chained, too, both hands and feet, with enough freedom to lie down, sit up, and use the chamber pot under the bed, but not enough to reach the room’s only door. There were no guards outside the door, no one within earshot of Nuala’s voice, but she knew that these rudimentary chains weren’t the only things restraining them. Had she been so restrained on Ériu, she would have been able to break free easily. But this was Tír na nÓg, where everything was stronger—people, chains, enchantments.

She had been allowed to live, despite her role in the rebellion against Lorcan. He had plans for her, or so he had said while he was extracting all the information she had about Eden and the Tuatha Dé Danann on Ériu. He did not have her power of persuasion, not yet, but his own power had not been exaggerated, and she’d had no choice but to tell him everything he wanted to know. She had planned to tell him, anyway. It wasn’t as if she cared what happened to Ériu or the people there, whether they were human or Danann.