Through the Door (31 page)

Cedar looked back at the tree and squinted her eyes, still blurry with tears. It looked the same as it always had, thick with blue-green needles, tall and foreboding. She had always been a little bit afraid of that tree as a child.

“Look again, look harder,” he urged.

He helped her to her feet and she walked closer to the tree, staring at it intently, trying to see the tree as he did. Maeve’s voice came back to her.
You are the dyad—both human and Danann.
Slowly, she began to detect a slight glimmer on the outer branches. Then it spread, needle by needle, as though a curtain were being drawn to let the sun through.

“Watch out,” Finn said, and grabbed her arm. She had been looking at the tree and not the ground beneath her, and had almost stepped into a deep pit. She tore her eyes from the shimmering branches to look down, and jumped back with small cry.

“Who—” she began, unable to finish the sentence.

Finn knelt at the edge of the grave. “This is Kier, your mother.”

She knelt down beside him and gazed at the peaceful face nestled among the roots. “One of my mothers,” she corrected him, the tears still running down her cheeks.

“Maeve did well to bury her here,” Finn said. “The land will keep her in peace.” He got to his feet, his eyes searching the ground near the tree. He saw what he was looking for and walked over, scooping Kier’s necklace from the ground.
“Perhaps you would like to keep this,” he said, handing it to Cedar.

She took it from him wordlessly and gazed at it. “Thank you,” she said, closing her hand tightly around it. Then she looked back up at the shimmering tree.

“What does it mean?” she asked him.

“It’s a sidh,” he said.

She looked at him unbelievingly. “How?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know for certain, but I think it must be Eden.”

Cedar grew pale. “Or Lorcan.” Haltingly, she told Finn what Maeve had told her about Brogan and Lorcan. His face darkened.

“Even if that’s the case, I don’t think he did this,” he said. “It’s not his style. This is subtle, beautiful magic.”

“But this isn’t a door. Eden needs a door.”

“Maybe not. Eden is the only sidh-opener I’ve ever heard of who used a door, and who was able to make one appear in the other place. The others before her, they could turn any object into a sidh, as long as there was a corresponding object on the other side. A hillside to a hillside. A waterfall to another waterfall. A tree to a tree. Maybe in Tír na nÓg she can use her power in ways she couldn’t here.” He took another step toward the tree-sidh, and then stopped. He looked back at her and held out his hand. “There’s only one way to know for sure.”

Again, Cedar heard Maeve’s voice in her head.
You can still save her.
She didn’t know how, but she knew that if Eden had created this sidh, she was summoning her. Hope flooded her veins. All was not yet lost. She looked at the glimmering tree and thought of the world beyond it, a land of war, where a ruthless warrior was bent on the destruction of everyone
she loved. She thought of Riona’s strength and kindness, and Felix’s easy smile. She even thought of Rohan, of how he tried to lead and protect his people despite impossible odds. She thought of her father, a great king of the Tuatha Dé Danann who had loved a frail human, and of Kier, lying in the grave at her feet, who had given all her energy to bestow Cedar with a gift that would conceal her true identity and ensure her safety. Kier could never have known that Cedar would meet and love another of the Tuatha Dé Danann, or that she would feel more alive, more at home with him than with any other man. She could never have known they would bring a Danann child into this human world, a world some wanted to protect and others wanted to destroy.

Cedar took Finn’s hand, and together they walked through the open sidh.

To her surprise, Nuala did not have to force Eden through the open sidh—the child went willingly. But once they had walked through the shimmering air in the doorway of Maeve’s house, Eden didn’t even seem to notice that they had crossed into a fabled land, the Otherworld, the land of Faerie, the land of Tír na nÓg. Instead, she stood with her hand still on the doorknob, looking back at her grandmother, who was lying unconscious on the ground.

“She’ll be fine,” Nuala said, not unkindly. “Now close the sidh.” When Eden showed no sign of obeying, she said, with an edge to her voice, “Or would you rather leave it open so the bad guys can go through and find her?” Eden swung the door closed, and it disappeared. She continued to stand there silently, and quite still.

Nuala looked around. She could feel it as soon as they had walked through the sidh. There was no question in her mind they were in Tír na nÓg. And yet the Eden she had met in the dreamscape had been right; it was not the Tír na nÓg she remembered. When she had fled with the other so-called rebels, the land had been showing signs of strain—fruit withering and falling from the trees, the streams not as full as they
should have been, the days more cloudy than sunny. But this was nothing like the land she had left. Everything around them was a variation on gray. Even the brown, dead grass beneath their feet was tinged with a sickly gray pallor. The sky, the trees, the bushes that had once been brilliant with color all looked ashen, like a corpse that had been many days dead.

But the war is over,
she thought, looking around in astonishment.
The land should have recovered.
She continued to stare, letting the shock of what she was seeing sink in, and then she saw him.

She had seen him before, of course, years ago. He was handsome, as were all the Tuatha Dé Danann. He looked every bit the warrior-king, tall and strong, with chiseled features and steely blue eyes. As she watched Lorcan advance on them, she hesitated slightly. What if the druid had been right, and he would kill the child the moment he knew who she was? But there was no turning back now, so she raised her chin and waited for him to approach, focusing her power and readying herself to take control. This was the moment she had been waiting for.

A Danann warrior walked on each side of the king. When they drew close, the soldiers stopped and stared at her openly. She smiled slightly. She knew they, at least, were feeling the effects of her charm, even though it was not directed at them.

Lorcan’s eyes, however, did not glaze over. They stared at each other for a moment, as if sizing one another up, and then she gave a slight bow. “My lord,” she said, “I have brought you a great gift, as promised.”

He looked behind her, not yet paying attention to Eden. “Did you create that sidh?” he asked, staring intently at the spot where it had been.

“No, my lord,” Nuala said. “I did not make it, but I brought you the one who did. The child you sought, many years ago.” She indicated Eden, who had walked over and sat down at the base of the tall dead tree they had seen through Kier’s necklace. Her eyes were closed and she was leaning against the trunk.

Lorcan breathed out in a long, slow hiss as he looked at the girl. “That was many years ago, and yet she is still a child. How is that possible?”

“She is Brogan’s grandchild,” Nuala answered. “His own child, this girl’s mother, has been made human through a druid’s craft. But
this
child has the gift you seek. I found her, and have gone through much danger to bring her to you. I remember your words, your promises to the one who could bring you the child with the king’s gift.”

Lorcan tore his eyes from Eden and narrowed them at Nuala. “
I
am the king,” he said slowly.

“Of course,” Nuala faltered, confused. Her power did not seem to be having any effect on him, and she could not understand why. A chill ran through her, though the air was hot and dry. “I only meant that I brought her here as a sign of my loyalty. I was deceived when I left Tír na nÓg, and have been searching for a way to return to your side ever since. I hope to claim the mercy and reward you promised.”

He sneered at her. “I am known for many things. Mercy is not one of them. However, you have done well, very well, to bring the child to me. For that, I shall spare your life, provided you agree to use your considerable talents in my service, of course. That should be reward enough, don’t you think, Fionnghuala?” Then he leaned over so that his lips were touching her ear. “How are your charms working so
far?” he whispered, and then pulled back, mockery written across his face.

Nuala took a step back. The chill deepened, and she felt goose bumps rise on the smooth skin of her arms. How could her power have no effect on him? He was not a closer like Rohan or Finn. He had very real, very obvious desires. She did not even need to look inside his heart to see the hunger for power that consumed him. It should have been easy to control him, to convince him that he needed her.

“You don’t think I walk around unprotected, do you?” he said. “Not all my loyal subjects are as willing to serve me as you are.” His handsome features twisted into a smirk. “I shouldn’t take all the credit. This shield of protection used to belong to someone else, someone who is now dead, of course. No, don’t bother trying to see it. You can’t. But it’s there, protecting me from you, and everyone else who would wish to kill me.” He paused. “But I don’t think that was your plan, was it?”

“Of—of course not, my lord,” Nuala said. “I would never dream of such a thing. I only wish…” she hesitated, unsure how to proceed knowing he was not under her spell. “I only wish to assist you. I believe in your cause, and I have done what I can to help by bringing you the sidh-opener. However, I can be of much more service. With your many powers, and my ability to persuade, we could make a formidable team, my lord.”

Lorcan raised a blond eyebrow into a perfectly pointed arch. “Team? Ah, I see it now. You think this favor you have done for me merits a reward greater than the mere gift of your life. You think I should make you queen.” He reached out and ran a smooth finger along her cheek and down her neck. He trailed it along her collarbone and traced the neckline of her
shirt to where it dipped between her breasts. She held still, barely daring to breathe, and tried to soften her features as she gazed at him seductively.

“You do have a certain charm, even though I am shielded from your power,” he said. “Your ability will no doubt be useful to me.” He paused, slowly running his tongue across his lips as he ran his hands over her body. “I could kill you and take it for myself, of course, and I may, in time. However, I’m sure I can think of some use for you until then.” He looked at his guards. They were still gazing at Nuala with undisguised lust through their glassy, slightly dazed eyes. “Or maybe they can,” he said with a short laugh.

Nuala looked at him in horror, simultaneously shutting down all vestiges of the seductive threads she had been sending his way. The other men shook their heads, as if trying to get water out of their ears.

“Come!” Lorcan commanded with a sweeping turn. “This is a momentous occasion, and there is still much to be discussed.” One of the men took Nuala by the arm and shepherded her in Lorcan’s wake. The other man was pushing Eden along in front of him. Nuala shook with fear and anger and hissed, “Let go of me at once.”

The guard immediately dropped her arm and stood to the side, letting her pass. Lorcan stopped and turned around, a look of mock disappointment on his face.

“You’re not going to be difficult, now, are you? Look at how easily the child obeys,” he said, indicating Eden, who was standing still beside her guard. “You may have noticed that Tír na nÓg has changed since you left. You’re in
my
Tír na nÓg now, Fionnghuala. Believe me when I say I can make things very difficult for you. There is no place to run.” He turned
to her guard. “Let her walk freely,” he said, then continued apace in front of them.

Nuala stood her ground for a second, and then fell into step beside Eden, who was following Lorcan. She glanced over at the child.

“Are you okay, Eden?” she asked. Eden just shrugged and kept walking. Nuala let out a frustrated breath. What did she care if the child was okay? Her entire plan was in ruins. This wasn’t the Tír na nÓg she had longed for. This was a wasteland. Even Ériu, as much as she despised the place, held more attraction for her than this vast expanse of gray, every tree and rock a dismal reminder of the glory she had left behind. Were the Tuatha Dé Danann who remained here also only shadows of their former selves? Would she find the same race of dignified, powerful beings she had once adored and been proud to be part of, or would they have withered under a cruel king’s reign, until they cowered and simpered like humans? She forced herself not to dwell on such despairing thoughts. She just needed a new strategy, one that would put her in a position of power. She would neither simper nor cower—but she could be patient.

Nuala remembered Lorcan’s hands on her body, and shivered at the thought of playing whore for him. But if she could get him alone, if eventually she could get him to let down his shield of protection, it would only take a few carefully chosen words to shift the balance of power in her favor.