To break his family's curse, Faolan mac Domnall seeks to marry the beautiful Saoirse, princess of Mide. Spirited and outspoken, the wild Saoirse wants nothing more than to escape the life that's been decided for her. Determined to outmaneuver a twis...
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Faolan had barely finished saying hello before he bolted from the stable. Saoirse blinked and wondered if she should also flee from whatever invisible monster nipped at his heels.
Her horse boy was turning out to be quite the odd young man. He promised her to break her curse and then left without another word. Only a few days later, he sent her a scrawled note. Not particularly a note of love, but one asking for the biggest mirror she owned. And that he was thinking of her.
She had flushed with pleasure at those sloppily written words. He was odd and his penmanship was atrocious, but he was hers.
It was an easy enough task to get the mirror to Faolan's cottage before the afternoon light faded. His father had grunted to put it in the stable before shutting the door in her face. A cloud of stale liquor around him, he had barely stuck his head out the door to peer at the massive thing.
The rather rude reception had left Saoirse with little to do while she waited for Faolan. After dismissing her escort, promising she'd return with the healed Apple once she finished her business, Saoirse sighed and explored the entire stable before resorting to chores. She tempted the two horses back to their stalls with fresh hay. She filled their troughs with water. She curried their coats. She swept the floor.
The skin of her hands was red and burning. Saoirse would never have guessed that stable chores and simple sweeping would leave her feeling so blistered and raw. She was contemplating whether to plunge her sore hands into the chilly water of the trough when Faolan arrived.
He looked as tired as she felt. His clothes, again, were in disarray and the circles beneath his golden-brown eyes seemed more shadowy than his dark hair. Fatigue had turned to revelation as he dropped his bundle of food and vanished.
Just as irritation and doubt coiled in her chest, he returned. Breathless and rosy-cheeked, an ethereal blue glow illuminated his face.
Before she could ask what it was, he grinned and opened the jar.
The ball of light–bluer than the summer sky, bluer than the sea–floated toward the mirror as if caught in a lazy breeze. It seemed to hum as it circled first around Faolan, then the princess. She caught his eyes and wondered if she looked just as lovely as he did, wearing that intangible veil of sapphire light.
The little orb hovered before the glass before melting into it, the surface rippling like water.
"What is it?" Saoirse whispered. Faolan had promised to find Otherworld, to find the Dreamweaver, but she had assumed they were the promises of a boy in love. But this? This was new and real and something she had no words to describe.
"It's a wisp-charm," he breathed back, the exhaustion returning to his eyes in the orange light of the lantern. "I got it from the Dreamweaver's daughter. She's going to help us."
With an incredulous smile, Saoirse pulled him to sit beside her, begging to know the tale of how Faolan mac Domnall crossed through to the land of the faeries.
