Morrigan (37 page)

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “That’s pretty
corny.”

Tiarn seemed honestly confused. “What does
corn have to do with anything?”

Morrigan laughed as Arianrhod pushed open the
doors and stepped into the view of the waiting guards and nobility.
She had to block her eyes against the glare of the early morning
light that wafted through the large windows in order to see what
has happening. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but Arianrhod
was right. As soon as they saw her emerge victorious, the people
erupted into thunderous applause. Despite all that had happened,
there was hope for a better future. She might have lost her mother,
but with Tiarn and Aunt Arianrhod on her side, maybe there was a
better future and even a new family already in the making.

Morrigan yawned and pulled herself up out of
bed after a well-earned rest. She was happy to find two warm balls
of fur curled up beside her, still purring softly in their sleep.
She had feared Ceridwyn might have disposed of her pets before the
ritual had even begun, but Arianrhod found them safely secured in
their cages, hidden within Ceridwyn’s private quarters. Aside from
being a little indignant over their captivity, they were no worse
for wear and completely oblivious to the trials their mistress had
been through without them. Morrigan gave them a pet as she swung
her legs over the bed, but they hardly batted an eye. She hoped
they could spend the rest of their lives a pair of lazy housecats
and would never have to take on their Guardian forms again.

Morrigan quickly freshened up and slipped
into a lovely sky blue gown Arianrhod had brought her, along with a
full armoire of beautiful clothing and accessories. As she pulled
her thick hair back into a French braid, she was surprised by the
reflection that stared back at her in the mirror. Though her cuts
and bruises had healed quickly thanks to the magic in her blood,
she had changed. A few weeks ago she had been a just a normal
teenager, but somewhere along the way, she had left childhood
behind. It was the eyes of a woman that stared back at her.

Two days had passed since the horrors of the
crystal cavern, and finally they were going to celebrate their
victory—a victory that was still bittersweet for Morrigan. She was
glad she had done the right thing and helped to restore Arianrhod
to her proper place, but the death of her mother would always haunt
her. After the battle, Morrigan tirelessly sat by Tiarn’s side.
Thanks to the quick work of the magical healers, there had been no
infection, but it was another long bedside vigil. The more time
passed, the more distant he became. At first when he shied away
from her touch, she thought it was because he was in pain. Yet, his
silence had only deepened even as his wounds closed. She hadn’t
even seen him since he was officially allowed off bed rest. She was
hoping to catch a glimpse of him at the celebratory banquet that
Arianrhod was hosting in their honor that evening.

After a few finishing touches to her attire,
she left Dagda and Danu asleep on the bed and made her way to the
ballroom. When Morrigan entered the packed hall, she saw Tiarn
right away. It wasn’t easy to miss his long dreadlocks as he
haunted the refreshment table. Even clean-shaven and dressed in the
perfectly pressed shirt tails he had undoubtedly borrowed, he
looked awkward and out of place amongst the nobility. Morrigan
tried to make her way toward him, but she was continuously
interrupted. First Brigid approached her, her head bowed in
acquiescence.

“You must forgive me, Your Highness. I judged
you too harshly. I should have trusted my initial instincts when we
first met in the tavern. You seemed so kind. I should not have
allowed your mother’s actions to cloud my judgment.”

Morrigan gestured for her to rise. She didn’t
think she would ever be comfortable with the whole royalty thing.
She felt a greater kinship with the simple inn keeper than any of
the finely dressed nobles.

“It’s not your fault,” Morrigan assured her.
“After all, I did lie to you, even if it was with the best of
intentions.”

Brigid shook her head. “But still, as an
elder, I am expected to make wise choices.”

“Even the elders are allowed to make
mistakes, Brigid.”

They both turned at the sound of the new
voice accompanied by the steady tap of a walking stick. They found
Alden waiting with his arms wide open.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Brigid snorted,
while Morrigan and Alden exchanged an affectionate greeting. “You
always believed in her. You may be blind, Alden, but that certainly
does not hinder your ability to see.”

“Yes, well, I knew from the first that she
had her father’s heart.”

“Connelly was a good man,” Brigid agreed. She
turned back to Morrigan. “It would do his heart proud to see what a
fine young woman you have turned out to be.”

Morrigan blushed at the praise, feeling like
she really didn’t deserve it when all she had done was take another
life to save her own. Still, she chatted with them for a while,
enjoying the stories they shared of her father in his youth. She
excused herself when she saw Tiarn heading toward the door. She was
just about to catch up to the lycan when another man stepped into
her path. She smiled and nodded, trying to be polite, but she had
no idea who she was talking to.

“Princess Morrigan! I knew you could do it. I
am so happy it is my brother’s turn manning the other side of the
portal so I could be here to celebrate your glorious victory!”

It wasn’t until the mention of the portal
that Morrigan finally realized who the man was. He looked
completely different decked out in his fine robes as opposed to the
dirty rags he had worn during their last meeting. It wasn’t just
the clothes or even the fact he was free of the dirt and soot of
the Baltimore alley. Condon, the Gatekeeper, was like a completely
different man. His slovenly appearance and missing teeth must have
been an illusion because aside from the gentle smile, it was as if
she was speaking to an entirely different man.

“And where is my friend, Filtiarn?” he
queried. “I would love to tell him I told you so. Oh, not that he
ever thought poorly of you, my dear. It was his own strength which
he doubted.”

“I am actually trying to find him myself,”
Morrigan admitted. “When I do, I’ll be sure to give him your
message.”

“Very good. Very good. I will let you go on
your way then. I know this is a busy evening for the two guests of
honor. I wish you a long life and much happiness in the years to
come.”

Condon lifted her fingers to kiss her hand,
and Morrigan saw the spiral birthmark that had been her doorway to
her true home. She thanked him for his help and once again, tried
to find Tiarn in the crowd. This time he was nowhere in sight.

When she didn’t see him, she decided she
might as well check in with Arianrhod. She found her sitting on the
throne, chatting with the beautiful auburn-haired handmaiden,
Deirdre. Her sparkling silver gown was the perfect match to the
triple moon crown that graced her forehead. Behind her, the large
white owl was perched on its stand, occasionally peeking through
one lazy eye at the crowd of party goers who ate, danced, and
reveled in their country’s newfound peace. The owl cocked its head
as Morrigan approached, which alerted Arianrhod to her arrival. She
broke into a smile as she rose from her seat and wrapped her niece
in a warm embrace. From her own seat, Deirdre gave her a warm
welcome, though she scarcely took her eyes away the queen.

“We have had so little time to talk,”
Arianrhod apologized. “You were busy caring for Tiarn, and I have
been trying to rectify the damage Ceridwyn has done. But tell me,
Morrigan, how are you faring? You have been through so much in the
last few weeks.”

Morrigan wanted to say she was fine, but she
knew her aunt had ways of reading what was in her soul. She didn’t
even fight it when her eyes filled with tears. “Aside from
committing matricide, I guess I’m doing okay.”

Arianrhod nodded in understanding. “You
grieve for your mother.”

Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. “I hardly
knew her, but I guess I’m grieving for what could have been. I feel
so guilty about what happened. I mean, I know in my head it was
self-defense and she gave me no choice. But somehow it still feels
wrong. It makes me worry that maybe a little bit of the evil that
was inside of her was passed down to me.”

“I feel much the same in regards to Hecate,”
Arianrhod admitted. “However, you must remember no one is all good
or all evil. We all create our own destinies with the choices we
make. All we can do is try our best, learn from our past, and use
that knowledge to grow wiser in the present. In this case, my
wisdom tells me that we both did what we had to do. Not only to
survive, but to bring peace to our people. No one can fault us for
that.”

“I know, but it’s still hard.”

“Well, perhaps this will give you some
comfort. You came to Tír na NÓg in search of a mother. I may not
have given birth to you, but I feel as though you are the daughter
of my heart. Allow me to adopt you. I will be your mother as well
as your teacher. And when my rule is over, I will make you my
heir.”

“But . . . but,” Morrigan stuttered. “That is
very generous of you, Aunt Arianrhod. But what if you have children
of your own someday?”

Arianrhod laughed lightly. “I shall lay with
no man as my interests lie elsewhere. I have already chosen my life
companion.” She gave a meaningful look to the flame-haired maiden
beside her. “And though our love is true and deep, no children can
come of our union. You can be child to us both, and we will teach
you the ways of magic.”

Morrigan felt a few tears sneak free and
slide down her cheeks. It was the first time she had let herself
cry since she had wept over her mother’s body. In that moment, she
had felt like an orphan all over again. But now, looking at the
maternal love in Arianrhod’s eyes, she realized it didn’t matter if
Ceridwyn had carried her in her womb. In spirit, she truly was the
daughter of Arianrhod.

“Thank you,” Morrigan whispered. “You can’t
imagine how much this means to me.”

“There is no need for thanks,” Arianrhod
replied. “It is you who have given me the greatest gift of
all.”

Morrigan hugged Arianrhod and then Deirdre,
who she learned was the only daughter of Brigid. While Morrigan
knew she had so much to learn about her new family, and she was
enjoying the conversation they shared, she remained distracted.
From her vantage point, she could see the whole ballroom, and there
was no sign of Filtiarn.

“Aunt Arianrhod, have you seen Tiarn?”
Morrigan asked. “I have been trying to find him all evening and it
seems like he just keeps disappearing on me.”

“Hmmm. Oh, yes. He gave me his apologies and
retired to his room some time ago,” Arianrhod told her. “He said
his wounds were troubling him.”

Morrigan was instantly concerned. “I hope you
won’t think I’m being rude if I leave the party,” she fretted, “but
I really should make sure he’s okay.”

Arianrhod gave her that all-knowing stare.
“Yes. I think that would be wise.” Just as Morrigan turned to
leave, her aunt reached out to touch her arm. “You chose well with
your lycan, Morrigan. He has a good heart and will make a wonderful
king someday when he rules by your side.”

Morrigan felt her heart swell with emotion
when she realized what Arianrhod was saying. She was so excited,
she couldn’t even speak. She squealed girlishly as she gave the
queen one last hug before running off in search of Tiarn. He was
still staying in an area of the castle where the healers had easy
access to him, though he had been given his own private quarters.
When she found him there, the smile instantly died on her lips. He
was so busy packing up his few meager belongings he didn’t even
notice her. His scabbard and sword were already belted to his
waist, and he had removed his borrowed finery in favor of his
bedraggled animal skins.

“Were you going to leave without even saying
goodbye?” Morrigan’s voice quavered.

Tiarn refused to meet her eyes. “I thought it
would be easier for both of us. I have never been very good at
goodbyes. I planned on leaving you this before I left.” He pulled a
rectangular bundle from his bag. “I suppose I might as well give it
to you now.”

Tiarn handed her a package wrapped in
parchment paper. As soon as she unraveled the twine that bound it,
she recognized the worn green cover of her sketchpad. She flipped
through the pages, looking back at the places they had visited and
people they had met along their journey. She especially loved the
drawing of Tiarn playing his pan flute. In the center of the book
was the folded note from her father. She lifted it to her
heart.

“Thank you, Tiarn,” she whispered. “You don’t
know what this means to me.”

“Yes, well, I knew it was dear to you. So I
went back to the temple to retrieve it as soon as I was able to,”
he explained. “Now, I should really be on my way. I was hoping to
leave before sundown, but Queen Arianrhod made me give her my word
I’d come to the banquet and—”

“Wait! Just shut up for a minute, would you?”
Morrigan interrupted and put the book aside. “What are you talking
about, Tiarn? Why would you leave now, after all we’ve been though?
You can’t tell me you don’t care about me! Why else would you be
here? Why would you have risked your life to come back or wasted
your time bringing me this sketchbook if you don’t want to be with
me?”

“Of course I care, Morrigan! How could you
even think otherwise? It is because I love you that I am leaving. I
do not belong in your world! Can you not see that?” He covered his
face with his hands. “You are a princess and I am not only a
commoner, but a lycan!”