Page 56 of The Scald Crow

“You are promised to me, my love.” He met her lips, swallowing her sighs.

I squeezed my eyelids shut.

“Thank goodness. You’re up! Here, let me help you. You’re going to miss your wedding. Dear gods, you’re flushed. Are you feeling all right?” Orlaith placed the back of her knuckles over Ériu’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Orlaith. I need to shower.” Ériu dropped her head, hiding behind a curtain of blonde hair. She twisted her fingers into rumpled silk.

The air sparkled as two planes of reality became one.

“Hurry. Hurry. The day is slipping by. Dear gods, listen to those birds.” Orlaith clucked her tongue.

Beyond the window, a vast flock of hooded crows crowded the sky and blocked the light.

The Sluagh––the unforgiven dead, here to feast on my soul? How did they find me?

“I will come for you, Ériu, before day’s end.” Finvarra’s voice rang out. He urged the black stallion onto his hind legs, the horse’s nostrils fiery red. Tossing his flowing mane, the crazed horse kicked his forelegs into the air, taking Finvarra into the ether.

“Orlaith, lock the window.” Ériu rose to her feet, then fell backward.

“Look at that, will ye?” Orlaith gazed through the window.

“What should I do, Orla? I don’t know what to do.” Her wild eyes searched the room.

Her heart beat with mine.

The winds moaned—the windowpanes rattled. Flapping wings darkened the sky. The Sluagh? Finvarra?

”We must fly, Ériu. It’s your wedding day. Look at ye. Flushed so.” She plunked her hands on her hips. “Wedding jitters. It’s plain to see. I’ll be along with your dress.” Orlaith left the bedroom, returning one moment later with a simple blue gown.

The pieces fell into place. It was a love triangle of mythic proportions. Ériu and a Faerie king. Ériu and a sheep farmer, a man named Dermot Sweet.

Lightning struck the clear blue sky.

I huddled into a ball against the tumbled walls and buried my face in my hands, unable to stop the tears from falling.

“Calla? Calla?” The echo of his voice pierced the fog, waking me from my fever. He knelt before me, his gaze searching. He was flesh and blood. He was whole and sound.

“Colm? What are you doing here?” I wiped my face with my sleeve, unable to process what had happened.

Sunlight rained through the open rafters. Living, breathing vines slithered through the arched door, hiding the entrance to another world. Buzzing bees left their hives swarming overhead.

He seemed not to notice. He looked just as he had the day we met, dressed in khaki-colored cargo pants and a neatly buttoned shirt. The only difference was a blue ball cap turned backward, embellished with a blue and white maple leaf, a tuft of copper hair poking through.

“Looking for you. We had a date, remember?” He scooped me into his arms and sat in the tall grass, his long legs stretched out. He pressed his lips to my head, his arms encircling me. Safe. Warm. Protected.

“A date?” I floundered through those seconds, nestled in his arms.

His nearness brought me back to the evening in the pub when he had taken full advantage of the melee, the jostling crowds, and the roaring clamor. It was dangerous and exciting. He made me forget the world existed, taking me to the point of no return in a shattering, life-altering moment. The way he stroked my thighs—in plain view, for all to see. My core clenched, sending heat coursing over me. Lusting over the man had given me something to focus on instead of the past and the visions that came with it.

“You stood me up.” He held me close, his breath tickling my hair.

“I did? I’m sorry.” I ran my palm down his bristled cheek, taking comfort in his strength. That last time we spoke, I snubbed him.

“Brandy’s? Three days ago? I waited, but you failed to arrive.” His chest rumbled, and his voice soothed. “I called, but you didn’t answer.”

“You waited? You called?” I swallowed my confusion. Was that what I hungered for? A man who showed no fear of me?

“Saoirse hasn’t heard from you in days. She came by, but you didn’t answer the door. When you missed theceilidhlast night, I thought I should check on you.” He caressed my hair as a lover might.

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