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Back Heir to Sevenwaters Save as PDF
Chapters (22)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. CHAPTER 1
  6. CHAPTER 2
  7. CHAPTER 3
  8. CHAPTER 4
  9. CHAPTER 5
  10. CHAPTER 6
  11. CHAPTER 7
  12. CHAPTER 8
  13. CHAPTER 9
  14. CHAPTER 10
  15. CHAPTER 11
  16. CHAPTER 12
  17. CHAPTER 13
  18. CHAPTER 14
  19. CHAPTER 15
  20. CHAPTER 16
  21. CHAPTER 17
  22. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I made myself walk on. I could be sure, at least, that Cathal would not die as Aidan had. His father loved him, to the extent that the Fair Folk can love. His father wanted him safe; safe under his control, to be molded into another like himself, cruel, callous, powerful, full of dark tricks. The seed of that person was in Cathal alongside the seed of the good man he was striving to be. The longer he stayed here, the more like his father he risked becoming. Because of me he was facing what he had feared most in all the world. As I stumbled across the clearing with my brother in my arms and a host of strange eyes watching me, I knew I would not abandon him to that. I owed it to Becan, whom I had not been able to save, to prove that a human woman could be a hero. Never mind that I was neither druid nor mage nor warrior. Never mind that the rhyme said forever more. I loved Cathal. I would not desert him. As surely as spring followed winter I would come back for him, and I would bring him home.

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

Beyond the circle of white stones, up a rise and under the huge trees that bordered the ceremonial way, the Old Ones were waiting for me: seven of them in a silent line, with two bearing torches that cast a small pool of light around them in the shadowy forest. As I approached, the uncanny voice rang out, its wailing louder now, as if its owner were drawing ever closer.

“Come,” said Dog Mask, apparently impervious to the fact that I was shaking with sobs. “No time to waste. Follow me.” It turned and headed off along the path. Its companions, which now included not just the stony and watery entities but a being in a feathery cape and others with animal masks concealing their faces, padded along after their leader. “So he took the changeling after all,” Dog Mask added over its shoulder, as if it had known all along what was likely to happen.

“Becan’s dead,” I hiccupped. “And Cathal . . .” I could not continue. My lips refused to shape it: Becan falling, falling, and the flames coming up to take him. Cathal’s voice, so gentle, so insistent, telling me to go. The last tender word. The last sweet touch. Mac Dara telling his son, You’ll change. This place will change you. “He stepped inside the door, like in the rhyme,” I managed. “I screamed and he came to rescue me and now he’s trapped. Mac Dara has him. He’ll twist him and change him, he’ll try to turn his son into an evil man like himself, someone who kills for entertainment. This is my fault, all of it! I handed Becan over, I gave him up to be burned and I led Cathal straight into the trap—”