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Sorcha lifted her chin, locking her knees so she would not fall and embarrass herself. She would remain steady. Tears dripped down her cheeks, but she refused to admit that was a weakness. Only those strong enough to feel let tears fall.
Sorcha stepped forward and dipped her hands into the altar. Underneath the milk white water, her flesh melted away. She flexed her skeletal hands, whimpering because there was no pain. Only a blank space where feeling should be.
“A Weaver’s purpose is to tie together the lives of druid and Fae. To link those of us who keep watch over the land and its people. It is a rare gift.”
Stand with me, brothers and sisters of the Fae. Let me be your sword, for I will strike down any who threaten you. Let me be your shield, for I will weather you through this storm. Let me be the biting cold of winter and the blistering heat of summer, for I will cut through the forces of Fionn the Wise and bring you home!”
This wasn’t just a reunion or a heartbreaking moment to remind each other they existed. He wanted to brand her with his touch because he’d come so close to losing her.
“Never take away a woman’s choice to stand by her man. Do you hear me?”
“I didn't think it possible to miss another person as much as I missed you.” “I would miss losing a limb. And that is precisely the way I feel when you are not with me.”
“What do you think he plans to do?” “To help his people.” “With Nuada’s blade? That sword controls all who stand within its path. He destroyed an entire army on his own because they stood still and let him cleave their heads from their shoulders.”
As angry as she was, Sorcha needed to feel his ribs expand under her fingertips. Life coursed through his veins, strong and violent as a churning river. He had been wounded, but survived. It was all that mattered.
“I know Eamonn will make a good king.” “Why is that?” “Because I will be at his side.”
“Anyone can be beautiful if they love themselves, but not everyone can be intelligent. Which do you want to be?”
“If I measured my worth in beauty, I would live a life full of riches and happiness. If I am valued for the knowledge I impart on the world, then I live forever.”
“I pledge my soul to you,” he growled. “My heart, my mind, my life are now yours.” Somehow, she knew she was supposed to say the words. “I pledge my soul to you, my heart, my mind, and my life are now yours.”
He would give anything to hear her laugh over and over again until the world ended.
My poetry for you is a vow. The world may burn down around us, but nary a flame shall touch thy beloved flesh. The ocean may swallow the land, but I shall be your ship and feed you sweet air. A sword may try to cut you down, but I will bear all your wounds. I have lived a thousand years in the dark, waiting for the rays of your sunlight.”
“You are a storm of a soul contained in a glass bottle. So fragile and easily harmed, yet powerful in every other way.”
Her body was a language he was dedicated to learning.
Every inch of her, whether he was inside her, beside her, or so far away that he could no longer catch the scent of her on the wind. Home had been a place he had fought and searched for. Centuries had passed with many people and places passing by. Eamonn had never realized home could be a person. He hadn’t known how a single smile, a curl wrapped his finger, a graceful arch of a foot could change his life forever.
“I pledge myself to you.” His breath fanned across her lips as the tempo of their bodies quickened. “Everywhere you go, I shall follow. You are the only light in my life, the beacon at the end of a long and winding road. Together we will be more than lovers, husband and wife, king and queen. We are a thousand years of want and desire and love. So much love.”
“What is a queen without a king?” She licked her lips and turned into the green mist of her ancestors. “A dark, powerful creature with no man to temper her steel. You shall wield a sword as your crown, a whip as your jewels, and armor as your gown.”
“Sorcha, I’ve undressed more women in my lifetime than you have yourself. Stand still!”
Ew. Why would anyone say this to their wife?
“You are loved,” he growled, both to her and the child. “You will be great and honorable and good. You will have your mother’s flaming hair and your father’s stubborn chin. I will rock to sleep at night, and your mother will kiss you awake every morning.”
