Forgotten Fate (Sisters of Danu Book 3) Read online

  Eoin shuffled his feet and Aislin recognized it as impatience. She turned and glared at her brother, knowing he was only anxious to get back to Treasa, so they could huddle together on a log at the festival and make love-sick eyes at each other as they always did. She stuck her finger in her throat, mimicking a gag, and he glared at her implication, making a rude gesture with his hand in response.

  “Sir,” he cut in, clearing his throat. “I do not wish to cut this short, but our parents will be looking for us. Is there a point to all of this?”

  As if he had been waiting for that one specific question, the cavern faery’s yellowing eyes opened wide as his exuberant smile increased. “AYE! There is a point, indeed. The advantage, my dear lad, is that people leave me alone, allowing me to do what I love most: seek out treasures! Och, how I love treasure! It reminds me of the faery world! I have so much treasure! Why, I spent almost a thousand years seeking out—”

  “A thousand years?” Flynn said with shock.

  “Aye! I spent much of the last one thousand years seeking out the greatest treasure in all the land!” He stopped and stared at them expectantly for what felt like a very uncomfortable moment without blinking. “Well…do ye not want to know what it is?” His eyes widened as he nodded, clearly expecting them to return his excitement.

  “Aye, Sir, do please tell us!” Aislin put on her best excited lassie face without appearing to be forced…och, how she hated ‘excited lassie face’. “Is it diamonds? Rubies?”

  “Nay! Much better than that! I have found a sword, a staff and…a cauldron!” His head nodded as he looked at all five children, expecting an exuberant reply. When he was faced with nothing more than crinkled brows, he slapped his leg in annoyance. “Och, come now, ye wee dunderbrains! What sort of ancestors of the Danann are ye? I have found the three relics of the Tuatha de Danann! They are priceless!”

  Aislin bit her lower lip, trying desperately not to laugh, for, in truth, she found the old faery’s delusions quite endearing. The rest of the lads simply stared with their mouths agape. Fortunately, Sir took that as extreme interest and his smile widened further. Then, it faltered as he scratched his head. “Ye children of Danu will not be trying to take my relics, ye hear?” he waggled a finger at them in warning.

  “N-nay! We are not thieves, Sir! We will leave you and your treasure in peace. We must return home,” Brennain said as he backed away from the cavern slowly.

  Just as all the lads were heading out, Aislin did the opposite. She stepped forward and put her hands out to Sir. He looked at her suspiciously, as if it had also been a thousand years since anyone showed the poor old man any decent courtesy. His reaction made her giggle. She reached her hands out further to grasp his. They were rough and dry, but warm and welcoming. His eyes lit up at her touch and he smiled back warmly. Suddenly, his crooked smile was not so awkward. In fact, she found it contagious and Aislin spread her lips into a wide smile to match his. “Many thanks, Sir. You have bestowed a different sort of treasure upon me this night, as well.”

  He shook his head at her words, not quite understanding what she meant. “Whatever do ye mean, child?”

  “Aislin. My name is Aislin. Daughter of Ceara, a Sister of Danu, and King Garreth Mac Cecht of Coraindt, descendant of the last High Kings of the Danann. I am a descendant of Dana…the faery. And I thank you for showing me tonight that I am who my parents have always claimed, and I will never take it for granted. And that is a true treasure. I will never let my fate be forgotten again.”

  She gave the old faery a kiss on the cheek and ran out of the cavern to catch up with the lads.

  Chapter 1

  76 AD (eight years later)

  “Hurry lassies! Hand me the tarts! I need to get them in the kiln! Leannan! Alyson! Are you listening to me?” Gwynneth blew out a frustrated breath, sending that one unruly blonde tendril fluttering away from her flour-covered face. She wiped her hands on the corner of the white linen apron that keenly protected her dark blue gown from becoming covered in flour as well. “They will be here any moment! Come, hand me the berry tarts!”

  Alyson grumbled under her breath, but did as her mother asked. Gwynn stopped her frantic pacing around the kitchen to boldly scrutinize her daughters. At eight and ten summers of age, her identical twin daughters, Leannan and Alyson, were full grown women with long wavy silvery blonde hair and bright cobalt blue eyes. They looked so much like her, only with their father’s eyes. Neither sister ever found herself lacking in suitors. If only they could finally find lads worth marrying! It was all they thought about and Gwynneth knew they were internally brooding about it at that very moment, knowing tonight’s festival would bring out the entire tuath of Iverni, and along with it, all its eligible young lads.

  Alyson and Leannan both got up from the wooden bench against the wall and trudged over to the large slab of rock where Gwynneth had prepared the tarts. They each grabbed two and handed them over to their mother, looking as if they would rather be anywhere but there.

  “You know, if you want to become a man’s wife, best you learn your way around a kitchen. Nay man wants some useless, spoiled, young wife who cannot make him a meal with her own two hands.” Gwynneth lifted an elegantly arched blonde brow at them as she slid the tarts into the kiln.

  “Well, you have Katriona to cook for you!” Leannan retorted to her mother. “So why should we not expect to have servants one day?”

  “Aye, I do have Katriona, and I am very grateful indeed!” She looked over to Katriona, who was skillfully pretending not to hear their mother-daughter squabbling as she quickly diced up celery and carrots to toss into the beef stew. “But, as you can see, I am perfectly capable and willing to join her in the kitchen. Now,” she said, desperate to change to subject. “Where is your other sister?”

  Alyson let out a grumble and plopped dramatically onto the bench again, thumping her elbows onto her knees and cradling her face with her hands. “Treasa is still in her chamber, combing her hair and staining her lips with berries,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  “Aye, and deciding which dress accentuates her womanly form best, nay doubt.” Leannan sighed as she plopped down on the bench next to her distraught sister.

  “Ah.” Gwynneth knew better than to ask why. Of course, she knew why her eldest daughter wanted to look her best. It was Beltane, the festival to celebrate the renewal of spring…as well as the time for handfast ceremonies to occur. Eoin would be arriving very soon with his family, Aislin, Garreth and Ceara. Certainly, Treasa had her mind on much more than tarts.

  Eoin, though not by blood, was Treasa’s cousin and he had not so much as approached Liam yet for permission to wed Treasa. Would he ever? Or had Ceara convinced him thoroughly that it was an ill match? Gwynneth’s heart ached for the young couple. Though she knew very well that it was strange for two cousins to marry, surely it was not the same at all, being that they shared no familial blood.

  Ceara could not see this point of view, however, for she never had to struggle to wed the man she loved, not truly. Though Gwynneth had heard the stories of Garreth’s reputation with the other lassies before he married Ceara, they had always been promised to one another and, once their pride was no longer an issue, they had quickly fallen in love and enjoyed an easy marriage.

  Gwynneth, on the other hand, fought hard to eventually marry Liam, but only after suffering years of abuse from a husband she had been forced to wed first. The thought of preventing her own daughter from such happiness made her heart squeeze in her chest.

  “And what of your papa and Little Duncan? Where might they be?” Gwynneth asked as she turned her attention back to preparing for the feast. The entire family would be arriving any moment and she must set Treasa’s love tangle aside. There was simply too much to worry over.

  “How should I know? Is it my task to know where Treasa and Duncan and Papa are at all times?” Alyson said with a huff.

  Gwynneth spun on her heels and glared at her daughter. “Alyson!
” she snapped. “I know you are in a foul mood, but if you can be of nay use in this kitchen, I shall remove you.” Gwynneth may have been eight and thirty summers, but she could easily manage to fulfill her threat, and well Alyson knew it. It would not be the first time Gwynneth had to physically remove an obstinate daughter from her presence. Raising three daughters of equal age was a trying matter.

  Alyson let her shoulders sag. “I am sorry Mama. Papa took Duncan fishing.” Her lower lip pouted as her forehead wrinkled. Gwynneth had recently seen this expression all too often on her daughter’s face.

  “Alyson…mo leanbh, please do not fret. I know how very badly you want to marry, but you are only eight and ten summers, mo chroí. I was one and twenty when I married papa and—”

  “Aye but you were six and ten when you wanted to marry him! And you did marry Treasa’s father, Baine, did you not?” Leannan cut into the conversation.

  “Aye…and I was very much in love with your father by then. I was forced to marry Baine instead, remember? I was abused, badly, for five summers. You do not want that and I will not allow that. Take your time; fall in love. Then, you can marry.” Gwynneth walked over to her two sulking daughters and kissed them both squarely on the lips.

  “You know the rule,” she pointed at them with a raised brow. “Never tell Treasa what you know of her father. I will not have her knowing that her father abused me. Tis none of her concern and would only make her suffer. Now, be off. Go to your chambers and ready yourselves. Nay man wants a sulky woman,” she said with a wink. She knew only too well. She had done her fair share of sulking in the past.

  Both lassies stood up abruptly from the bench and dragged themselves down the right corridor to their separate chambers. Gwynneth swore she could hear them mumbling something about every man fearing their father and refusing to speak to them. She really must speak with Liam, she resolved.

  As King of their tuath and the large powerful man he was, he certainly was intimidating. He could not control his stature and position, but perhaps he could stop sending daggers across the room with his eyes every time a young lad so much as smiled upon one of his daughters. Nay wonder Eoin had yet to ask to wed Treasa. He was Liam’s own nephew and he could not find the courage!

  Just as Gwynneth turned her attention back to the food for the feast, she heard loud shouting laughter and voices talking excitedly as they approached her home. “Una!” Gwynn shouted as she darted for the entrance, once again forgetting about her meal preparations. Before they could so much as get through the entrance, Gwynneth swiftly swung the door open, spreading her arms out wide.

  “Una! Brocc! Greetings!” She gave her sister and brother by marriage hugs and kisses, then focused on their two lads, both growing into strong handsome men like their father. Brennain was eight and ten summers and Flynn was seven and ten, but both lads…nay, men, she reminded herself, had jet black hair like their father and the green eyes of their mother. They were much taller than her, clearly proving that they will follow in their father’s footsteps as very large men of great strength.

  “Good day, Auntie Gwynn,” both lads looked down at her with broad smiles. Brennain had one dimple on his left cheek, just like his papa and it was, without a doubt, a feature that would easily make the lassies in his tuath swoon. Flynn may not have had a dimple, but he had a cleft in his chin and dark stubble on his jaw.

  “Good day to you both. I cannot believe how tall and handsome you grow every time I see you.” She stood on tiptoe and gave them both kisses on the cheek as she moved away from the door to allow the family of four to enter her home. “Liam and Little Dun are out by the river fishing if you men care to join them, though they should arrive back soon.”

  “That sounds like a good plan, aye lads? What do you say we find Uncle Liam and Little Dun and leave your mama to catch up with her sister?” Brocc smiled at his sons and Gwynneth could not help but smirk. What fine men the three of them were with their matching black hair, broad shoulders and strong jaws! The lads agreed and all three left to go walk toward the river.

  “Una, you have yourself a mighty fine lads there,” Gwynneth said with a laugh. “I would surmise you have your hands full with the young lassies in Darini.”

  “Och, do I!” Una said with a laugh to match her sister’s. “All I see are eyelashes fluttering everywhere we go! Though I do confess, while Flynn is calm and reserved in all ways, Brennain is not. He quite welcomes the attention and I worry about him sometimes…” Una sighed and wrinkled her nose.

  “Do you?” Gwynn asked, shocked at the worry in Una’s features.

  “Aye. He does not lack for female attention, and seldom does he turn them away. Flynn also has many admirers, but he is not so keen as Brennain. Not only do I fear he will never settle down, but I fear I will end up with wee grandbabes all over the village.”

  “Nay! Not little Brennain!” Gwynneth realized as soon as she said it that she was imagining him as the wee babe Una had given birth to just months after marrying Brocc. Gwynneth supposed Una’s concerns were reasonable, as passion did run through his veins. He was, after all, the result of a very fiery passion his parents found in one another well before becoming married.

  “Well, I wish I had some advice. Fortunately, Dun is still but three and ten summers and has nay interest in the lassies just yet. I do have my hands full with three daughters, however. Two are desperate to seek husbands and one has her mind set already on a husband, but I’m not so sure Liam will agree to it…” Gwynneth chewed her lower lip and glanced sideways at Una, wondering if she was aware of the love between Treasa and Eoin.

  “Aye…I know. Ceara has told me all about it. I cannot say this is a new development. Flynn told me many summers ago that he believed Eoin to be in love with Treasa. Surely you all saw it as well.”

  “We did,” Gwynn sighed. “We only hoped it would pass. Now, they are both eight and ten and pining for one another. I fear we must let them marry, lest they run away…it will happen either way.” Gwynneth shook her head as she contemplated the situation.

  “You do not think they have already—”

  “Oh, nay! I do not believe so! By all the gods, I hope not! Treasa is a passionate young lass, much like her mother was. She has all the right curves in all the right places and the men certainly take notice…Eoin, especially. It keeps us quite busy, I tell you, between her and our twins. Leannan and Alyson may not be as womanly as Treasa, but they are petite, well enough endowed to make the lads stare, and have many admirers. I fear Liam will soon lose his mind! But nay! I do not think Treasa and Eoin have…or would...” Gwynneth was chewing her bottom lip in worry and Una grabbed her sister’s arm gently.

  With a shrug of her head, Una said, “Come, let us finish up here in the kitchen. You will need all your attention on Treasa once Ceara and Garreth arrive with Aislin and Eoin.”

  That she would, indeed. She would have to watch Liam as well, very, very closely, to make sure no heads would roll.

  Chapter 2

  The day passed in a blur of commotion as Katriona and the three sisters ran about preparing the feast for their large family of fourteen. The men and their sons sat around the table talking about the warrior training that Eoin and Brennain had just finished. Flynn would finish next summer and Little Duncan was well into his own training, but still listening intently to his older cousins share advice and experience. To Duncan, his three older cousins were on the same level as warrior gods and his little green eyes danced as he listened with rapture to their stories.

  Gwynneth’s three daughters, along with their cousin Aislin, who was now five and ten summers, sat primly on benches along the rounded perimeter of the room, each wearing their nicest dresses, picked especially for the festival that would occur outside as soon as all the families in the village finished their evening meals. Ceara, Una, and Gwynneth stared at the scene before them for a moment: lads at the table laughing loudly while the four lassies sat huddled across the room whispering secrets and exc
hanging giggles.

  “They are talking about Eoin, are they not?” Ceara said with a resigned sigh, tossing her red waves back over her shoulder as she shook her head.

  “Not necessarily, Ceara. I am sure the lassies have better things to discuss.” Just then, Treasa’s hazel eyes looked up from her conversation, her blonde ringlets bobbing against her cheek, a soft yellow ribbon in her hair perfectly matching her form-fitting yellow linen dress. She had a very telltale blush forming over her cheeks as her gaze drifted over to where Eoin was sitting with the laughing men.

  As if feeling Treasa’s gaze upon him, Eoin’s eyes flickered up just momentarily. But when he saw Treasa shyly gazing at him from under a veil of dark lashes, his head bobbed upward proudly, a hesitant smile on his face. Fearing being caught, he ran his fingers through his short blonde hair and averted his hazel eyes to his mother. Seeing her shrewdly surveying him, he blushed wildly and looked back quickly at his male cousins.

  Ceara turned away and whispered to her sisters, “We are in trouble, I tell you. What are we going to do?” She raised her brow at Gwynneth, seeking advice.

  “We are going to let them wed,” Gwynneth smiled as she shrugged.

  Una giggled, but Ceara gasped loudly. Gwynneth covered Ceara’s mouth with her hand and dragged her outside of their home, Una following behind. As they stepped out, the night air helped to cool their enflamed cheeks as wind rustled through their hair. Festivities were starting already with families mingling amongst the small fires burning throughout the village. One large fire burned near the center of the tuath. Later, once all had eaten their fill, stories and gossip would abound, no doubt, around that fire. Gwynneth could only hope that her three daughters were not among the gossip of the night.