Page 95 of A Rogue in Twilight
“Even more, it might be rendered invisible to them until the iron was removed.”
“Then it was not a treasure they lost. It was access they lost. It vanished, and they could not find it or enter it. And we found it!”
“If this fairy nonsense has any merit. Though anything is possible once we start believing about fairies. Or marrying them,” he added.
“I am so glad you did.” She came to him, wrapping her arm around him in a hug. He bent his head to hers, held her.
“Well, to return this treasure to the Fey and free you and your grandfather from their wicked spells,” he drawled, “we had best move that iron away from the opening.”
A while later,James wiped the back of his forearm along his brow and stood back to survey their work. The entrance to the sparkling pocket mine was cleared now, and he had moved the smuggler’s goods to the opposite wall. Then he had carried the iron-bearing stones outside the cave to roll them down the mountainside away from the cave.
Satisfied, he stood in the smaller chamber for a final look and went into the outer chamber where Elspeth stood by the entrance, looking out. The mist had cleared and twilight gathered in purples and pinks, reminding him of amethyst and rose quartz.
“We had best make our way back or they will come searching for us,” he said.
She sighed and nodded. “I hope we have fulfilled the old bargain.”
“If that cave is indeed the missing treasure, it is available again. And you fell in love,” he reminded her. “That will protect you from harm—and so will I, my lass.”
“And so be it.” She turned into his embrace. “It is done.”
“Let the proof of it be our long, happy marriage.”
“And your belief in fairies,” she said, muffled against his coat.
He chuckled as she stepped away to gather her things, and he gazed out at the twilight sky, marveling at the colors revealed as the mist receded. “Come ahead, love.” He turned. “Elspeth?”
She was not there. Going to the inner cave, he did not see her there either. “Elspeth!” His voice echoed against the walls.
Eilidh . . .He heard it in the still air, an echo and yet not.Eilidh . . .
When she hadstepped into the inner chamber to fetch her shawl, they stood there, as if the wall had opened. Three watched her, a man and two women, slim and tall and beautiful. She realized they stood by the entrance to the pocket mine, its opening taller and wider than before.
They beckoned, all three. Despite the natural darkness in the cave, their eyes shone like jewels. She felt drawn forward. When they moved back into the gem pocket, she followed.
Vaguely she realized she was not walking down a ramp of rock, but passing through a depth of stone, following them like a wraith.
You can do this because you have fairy blood,said the blonde woman. Her voice was soft, not to the ear, but as if inside her head.
Who are you?She thought the words, and they heard her, nodding.
We three are your kin,they said in unison.
A chill went through her. Pausing, she summoned calm and strength. They stood together in the jeweled cavern, the ceiling and walls larger now, the jeweled brilliance more expansive.
The flaxen-haired woman was beautiful, though her angled eyes and chin had a harshness. Her eyes were deep violet. The man was tall, handsome, dark-haired, oddly familiar. The other woman was small, delicate, with long ebony hair and eyes sheened like pale crystals.
Eilidh,the man said. Then she knew. “Niall?” she asked. Her pounding heart reminded her that she was flesh and blood. “Father?”
“Daughter.” He reached out, and his hand was warm when she took it. He was flesh and blood, too, after all. “This is your mother, Riona.”
The small dark-haired woman stretched out both hands, her crystalline eyes filled with tears. Then Elspeth was enfolded in an embrace that felt loving, comforting. She had never felt a mother’s arms around her, and her eyes filled with tears too.
Curiously, she felt relief, wonder, and perfect ease in their company. She stepped back, trembling. “Mother,” she said, a word she had never used for anyone in her life. “Mother. And Father.”
They smiled, the one handsome, still a young man, for he had never aged. The other was as beautiful as a delicate jewel. “This is our queen,” Niall said of the pale-haired lady. “Queen of the Fey in this region. There are many such rulers, and this part of the land is under her thrall.”
“Eilidh.” She held out a long, slim hand, milky pale, shining rings on her fingers. Her long hair was like spun gold and her creamy white gown, sewn with glittering threads, seemed to glow. She dazzled with an inner luminosity.
