A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed, being so new to this I really appreciate the boost in confidence! Also a giant thanks to Mockingbyrd's Tune for bearing with my terrible grammar and doing such an amazing job as a beta!
Prologue III
Sleeping in the barn was far more comfortable than Douglas had led me to believe. The warm bath, meal, and comfortable blankets I'd been given were completely foreign experiences, though not unwelcome. For the first time, I could sleep the whole night through without worrying about what state my father would be in when he returned. I was safe, at least for the moment.
True to his word, Alasdair upheld his threat early the next morning when he sent Douglas down to the stables with a simple pitchfork and a bucket. I'd never mucked a stable before, but it didn't take me long to figure out what the tools were meant to be used for.
"I'm sorry, lass. I'd hoped he'd forget about you, but his pride's too sore to let you be," Douglas said, looking a little sheepish.
"Then it's a good thing I'm too stubborn to let it bother me. It's obvious your laird doesn't know anything of true hardship, otherwise he'd realize that cleaning up dung isn't really all that difficult," I said, taking the tools he offered confidently.
"Would that we all had your optimism, lass. Still, 'tis always wise to keep in your laird's good graces."
"I'm sure you're right, but even though you and Iona seem to respect him, he hasn't inspired any such loyalty from me—aside from the fact that I've been indebted to him indefinitely." I grimaced. The prospect of living in a place as beautiful as Castle Droigheann was like a dream, but I worried that living under the hand of someone as callous as Laird Alasdair would be no better than living with my father.
"Sometimes, life places us on a strange path, lass. We might not always ken why we are where destiny has thrown us, but your purpose here will be revealed in time," Douglas said. He offered me a friendly pat on the back before ruffling my hair.
"You may not look it, but I think you must be very wise." I grinned at him, and he chuckled.
"Don't be spreading that around. If Iona found out, I'd have no more excuses for my occasional bouts of foolishness. Now off with you. Breakfast will be served for Laird Alasdair and his guests shortly, and we can eat as soon as they're finished. I'll come and fetch you."
I nodded, eager to try some more of Iona's luscious cooking. While I had no desire to muck out the stables, the thought of warm food in my belly was enough to inspire me to earn it. Using the pitchfork Douglas had given me as a crutch of sorts, I made my way over to the first stall. I recognized the big, black horse that Laird Alasdair had been riding the day before and tried my best not to be intimidated by its size.
"Good morning, you great brute," I greeted the beast, giving him a gentle pat on his neck. I didn't have much experience in the way of horses. I'd seen them before, of course, though I'd certainly never ridden one. Even during his most productive days, my father hadn't been able to afford one. Still, I'd always found them incredibly majestic creatures. I was a little nervous at the prospect of moving the beast out of the way since he was so much larger than I was. Tentatively, I placed my hand on his nose, earning a soft whinny in response.
"There now, you big beastie. You'll need to be gentle with me. Your Master has already given me enough grief, but at least he hasn't got feet big enough to crush me with," I said, gently.
Nudging me with his great head, I lost my balance a little before straightening myself out against the stall door.
"Be careful now, Barbary. I'm not as sure footed as you are." Taking the horse by the bridle, I led him out of his paddock and into the small, gated pasture just outside. Steam from his warm breath got carried away by the wind that had begun howling wickedly around us. It was a cold morning, and the clouds painted a dark and ominous picture against the mountains in the distance. A storm was coming, and while that was hardly an unusual occurrence, a strange feeling seemed to bubble up from deep inside me. I felt jittery all of a sudden, like my very soul could sense something earth-shattering was about to happen.
"Don't fash yourself, Camryn," I scolded, myself. "All of Iona's talk of fairies has got you acting like a babe again."
Heading back towards the barn, I made sure I closed the gate to the pasture behind me while I tried to shake off my feeling of unease.
Now that Barbary was out of his stall, I could see that Alasdair had been true to his word. His horse had eaten well, and it was left up to me to make sure he was cleaned up after.
I knew there was no getting around my new duties, and to be fair, cleaning up after my father could often be far worse than cleaning up after a horse. In terms of a punishment for my insolence, I could have fared far worse.
I grinned when I thought that perhaps I might have bested Laird Alasdair after all, since I didn't feel as miserable as he'd probably hoped I would. So, forgetting all about the strange feeling from earlier, I worked happily away, humming to myself all the while.
"You don't even know enough to act suitably repentant."
So engrossed was I in my task, I almost thought I'd imagined the laird's voice; but as he cleared his throat to elicit a response, I knew I wasn't going to be so lucky. With enough sense to suppress my sigh, I turned around to face him.
Alasdair looked even more resplendent than he had the day before—perhaps because he was well rested, washed, and fed. His appearance didn't startle me this time, however, and I was prepared to follow Douglas' advice to be more careful around him. At least a little.
"How would you like your apology for my behavior yesterday, my laird? Shall I get on a knee and beg your forgiveness, or would you prefer me to kiss your most honorable toes?" I asked, making sure I sounded perfectly contrite.
"Neither, but don't think I don't know when I'm being made a fool of. I'm beginning to suspect you're truly mad. You talk as if you're a wizened old crone, not a bairn of what? Six years?"
"I'm eight, Laird Alasdair. And age does not always mean wisdom. For example, you are older than I am, after all."
"Are you implying I'm not wise? Dangerous words again, girl."
"I was not implying anything my laird, merely stating a fact. Now I must get the rest of these stalls cleaned before breaking fast—unless there is anything I can do for your most esteemed presence."
"I can't say I approve of these new found manners of yours."
"Yet another thing you've found to dislike about me, I'm sure. Why are you here anyway? Aren't you meant to be breakfasting?"
"I wasn't aware you were in charge of my schedule now."
"I'm aware that I need to wait for you to eat before it's my turn. And I've been working long enough to feel hungry by now."
"I can't decide whether I'm impressed or annoyed by your boldness. Clearly, you must have been raised by pigs, although I imagine my swine have more sense than you. Still, perhaps you'd be more comfortable tending to them?"
I grimaced at his words, but didn't respond. I wouldn't let him spark my temper, lest I get myself in trouble again. Despite my rudeness he had yet to be as downright cruel as he had been the night before, and I wasn't eager to incur anymore of his ire today. After all, I didn't mind mucking up after the horses, but I wasn't overly keen on pigs.
Thankfully, Alasdair's companions arrived at the stables before I was expected to give him an answer, and he seemed distracted enough that I managed to slip away into the next stall before I was noticed.
"Alasdair!" the lady practically shrieked, and I wondered what could have her worked up so early in the morning.
"Rhys tells me you've been keeping secrets! Is it true your father's engaged you to Aileen Munroe?"
I could hear the laird sigh and could tell it wasn't a topic he was keen on discussing with her.
"It was arranged before he passed on. But she's too young yet to be worried about the match. A great deal could change before she's of an age to marry," he answered, almost automatically. It seemed to me as if he'd been practicing those very same words on himself.
"Such a pity a strapping laird like you is already affianced. I don't envy you, though. They say old Munroe has an iron will and a hunger for power," the young nobleman, Rhys, said with a laugh.
"And have you seen his daughter?" the lady interrupted. "She's very mousy, and I hear she's got a pox-ridden complexion."
"I haven't met her, no, and I've no intention of marrying her either. But let's skip the conversation about my impending imprisonment for the time being, shall we? Today is the day we bag ourselves a deer. And tonight, we feast!" Alasdair said, obviously directing the conversation away from himself.
"The weather is hardly suitable for hunting, Alasdair," the lady whined, completely disregarding her earlier train of thought. I nearly groaned, but recalled I didn't want to be the center of their attention again.
"Nonsense, Deirdre, it's not raining yet, and I've got a good feeling about today," Alasdair answered, brushing off her concern.
The unsettling feeling I had earlier returned at the thought of them leaving for a hunt again, and while I wasn't exactly eager to draw attention to myself, given present company, I somehow felt compelled to speak out.
"The horses are at pasture my lord, though I'd an inkling to bring them in soon. You might want to be listening to Lady Deirdre. It isn't likely to be fair weather for riding. Even if there were deer around, they'd surely seek shelter as well," I said, creeping out from my hiding place.
Lord Rhys looked over to the stall where I'd been hiding, and grinned.
"Well if it isn't your new cripple, Alasdair! You seem to have lost the nerve you showed us yesterday. Have you been broken in already?" he lamented, almost sounding disappointed.
"If even she has sense enough to stay inside, perhaps you should take heed, Alasdair." Lady Deirdre urged.
"You're just not keen on getting your dress dirty, my lady," Rhys laughed. "Come on then(,) Alasdair, let's leave her behind then."
"I didn't say I wouldn't come, only that I'd prefer not to. You, stable girl, fetch a horse for me from the pasture. I rather like the dappled mare. And I'll need her saddled and ready to ride when I come back from changing," she ordered. I stood and regarded her for a moment, unsure of how to tell her I'd never tacked a horse before, and had no idea how to do as she'd asked.
"Off you go, Deirdre. I'll saddle the beast for you. I'll do a better job than this lout," Alasdair said.
"Oh how sweet. Helping out the help. Perhaps you'd prefer this little beast to Lady Munroe?" Rhys said with a chuckle, though the glare he received in return was more than enough to silence him.
"Enough from you, Rhys. Girl, come with me and make yourself useful," the laird demanded, and despite the fact that I didn't enjoy being the brunt of the nobleman's jokes yet again, I kept my mouth shut. Even if I didn't want to believe it, Alasdair had helped me—at least indirectly.
Alasdair led Barbary back to the stables to be prepared, while I brought along the mare that Deirdre had asked for. Rhys, insisting he had men to do his tacking for him, left to prepare himself for the ride and gather the castle's deerhounds.
"If you can't even saddle a horse, what good will you be?" the laird muttered after giving me a firm chastising for brushing the beast the wrong way.
"If you recall, you're the one who put me in the stables. If you haven't got a proper stable hand, that's not my concern."
"I have got a proper stable hand. His wife's just had a difficult childbirth, and I've given him some leave. You weren't expecting that from a spoiled, hateful lout, now were you?"
It was true that his admission had surprised me, though I'd never tell him so.
"Should I be surprised that a laird showed compassion to one of his people?" I retorted. "In my experience it has been a rarity."
"Oh, and I imagine you are incredibly experienced in political matters," Alasdair snorted, throwing his saddle on Barbary's back before pushing me away from the mare. I was obviously tending to the creature incorrectly.
"Hardly, but no laird ever saw fit to feed the starving children in my village, or to send help when the crops were failing."
"It isn't my responsibility to be a father to all of the bairns on my land."
"No, but it is your responsibility to care for all of your people. Instead you concern yourself with killing an innocent creature that you oughtn't be meddling with to begin with!" I snapped then, annoyed with his casual disregard for the people suffering in his lands, myself included.
"Oh, I see what the problem is now. What nonsense has Iona been feeding you? Be more concerned about yourself and your place here than about a ridiculous fairy story that's hundreds of years old. I could cast you out, you know. I've no need of a beastly chit like you around—and then where would you go? It's clear that no one in your village wanted you, either."
Of all the hateful things Alasdair had said before, those final words were by far the most painful of them all. Probably because they were true. No one had fought for me, not even my own father, and there was nothing I could say to defend myself.
I was never one to be self-pitying, but I knew how to feel anger, and it boiled up from deep inside me. I dared not speak out against him, lest he make good on his threat to dismiss me. I knew I'd never survive such a punishment. Instead, I dropped the brush I'd been using on the mare into the hay before hobbling towards the kitchens. I was angry at Alasdair, his friends, and my father. But most of all, I was furious with myself for believing, even for the smallest of moments, that I might find a place where I would be welcome and happy—a place where I might matter.
I met Douglas on the way to the courtyard, and he began waving me over with a smile before catching a glimpse of what was probably a terrible expression on my face.
"I was just coming to fetch you for breakfast, lass. What's happened?"
"Nothing," I answered sharply, unwilling to speak ill against the laird. It wouldn't have been fair to tell Douglas, as there was nothing in his power to do about it. He was just as much a servant as I was.
"There now, Iona tells me there's nothing a good bowl of porridge won't cure. Perhaps we might see if there's any cinnamon we can snatch from the laird's personal supply," he said, offering me his arm to use as a balance. I took it gratefully, and together we made our way towards the kitchen door.
This time, the heavenly smell of Iona's cooking did nothing to soothe my feelings, and instead of going directly inside, I stopped the big man in the courtyard. If he thought there was anything unusual about my actions, he never said so, and was patient enough to wait until I was ready to speak.
"Douglas, why are you so kind to me?" I wondered what I'd done to earn his kindness, when everyone else in my experience had treated me with nothing but disdain.
"Is there a reason I oughtn't be?" Douglas asked with a glint in his eyes.
"Because it's strange. Even when you took me from my home, you must have known I'd be of no use to anyone here. So why would you help me?"
I slumped down against the stone walls, refusing to look him in the eyes while he processed what I'd asked.
"When I looked at you, Camryn, I didn't see a wee lass in need of saving. I saw a bright spark in you, one of wit, and strength and courage. I thought to myself, if I could have a bairn of my own, I might like her to be just like you." I couldn't help but smile at his assessment of me, and flushed with shame at my behavior. Somehow, the big man always knew the right thing to say, and for a moment I wondered what it would be like if he really were my father.
The thought of food suddenly became more appealing, and following Douglas into the kitchen, I helped myself to so much that my stomach grew full to bursting.
I sat in front of the warm hearth for a few more moments before a great gust of wind blew down the chimney, causing the fire to crackle in protest. Iona quickly took a straw broom in hand, and after dunking it in a bucket of water, swept the sparks back where they belonged.
"A storm's brewing. Douglas, make sure the washing's in from the line. And Camryn, best go check on the horses and bring them in from the pasture," she said.
"Aye, wife," Douglas answered, and with an exaggerated groan he got to his feet and went back to work.
"That boy better be getting back before the rain starts. I wish he'd abandon his fool's errand and leave those deer alone. There's nothing but trouble in the moors today," she muttered, taking our dishes off of the table.
"And you keep out of the rain as best you can, you hear? I don't want you to be getting ill when you've only just arrived," she said. Not keen on getting soaked through to the bone, I rushed as fast as my foot would carry me towards the stables. The rain had just begun to fall, more a mist yet, than a true rain, The clouds that usually surrounded the mountain tops grew lower and lower until it looked as if the moors were covered in a thick, blanket of fog.
Ushering the remaining horses back inside their pens, I closed each gate thoroughly. I couldn't help but notice that Alasdair and his company had not yet returned from their hunt, but I prepared their stalls for their horses anyway. After making sure the horses had plenty of food to last them the day, I made my way back towards the kitchens, when something strange caught my eyes in front of the rose maze. At first, I thought that perhaps the fog was playing tricks on me, and turned away. Yet, something compelled me to turn back towards the gardens.
While the rest of the world around me was covered in the grey mist of the fog, standing starkly in contrast were two red deer. I gasped in shock, amazed that I was the one to have found them after Alasdair and his party had spent ages searching.
The first was a hind, and she moved about so gracefully it was almost like she were dancing. I didn't think she'd noticed me yet, and I crouched down very slowly so as not to alarm her. Beside her was a young fawn, barely old enough to stand on its own, and she watched over it protectively. I watched them for several moments, until the rain was no longer just a mist, but was pouring on me quite heavily. The deer were not bothered by the weather, but I watched as the doe's ears began to twitch with the sound of hoof beats and the barking of hounds in the distance. My heart dropped at the knowledge at what Alasdair was after, and all I could think about was helping the poor creatures.
I stood up, making gentle clicking noises. I worried that if I were too loud, I would alert the laird and his companions, and I didn't want that. Instead, I waved my arms, hoping that the motions would frighten them away.
"Off you go then," I whispered, gesturing wildly for the animals to flee.
"Go on! You don't want to be dinner, I'm sure!" But instead of running away like I'd hoped, the mother just looked at me straight in the eyes, her long lashes covered in rain drops that she blinked away.
"Please go!" I urged, but she still would not budge. The hoof beats were nearly upon us now, and perhaps their proximity caused her to finally flee into the rose maze. Only, she didn't realize that once inside, there was no escape.
The fog was so thick I barely had any warning before Alasdair and his friends appeared in front of me.
"There were two deer, did you see them?" he demanded of me.
"No, my lord," I answered falsely, hoping in vain that he would abandon his search and leave the deer alone. It seemed that my wish was not to be, however, when one of his dogs picked up the scent of the deer and began heading into the maze.
"They wouldn't have gone in there, would they?" Rhys wondered.
"Well if they were fool enough to get trapped in the maze, then they deserve to be our dinner," Alasdair answered.
"Let's just finish this so I can get in out of this blasted rain," the lady complained, and after dismounting from their horses and collecting their bows, the three began to make their way into the maze.
"Wait!" I shouted out. "There's a fawn; please don't hurt the mother!"
If they heard me, they certainly didn't care, and so I followed after them into the maze. It was a bad idea. I had never been inside the maze before, and had no idea where the creatures might be. I hoped the same would be true for the hunters, as well. I took one path, only to end up nowhere, forced to turn around and try another route. Worried that I wouldn't make it to the deer quickly enough to save them, I ran faster and faster until my twisted foot began to buckle under the stress I was putting on it.
Thankfully, I hadn't heard any cries of victory, and I hoped the rose maze had thrown the laird's hounds off the scent, as well. Continuing my search, I wasn't sure what was motivating me to save the animals. Iona's tales of fairy vengeance certainly helped to spur me on, but the sight of the deer, such pure animals, made me want to save them from such a cruel fate. But it was only a matter of time before my foot gave out from under me again, and I wasn't sure what to do. Even finding my way back out now would have been a struggle. I cried out in frustration, wiping away the rain drops that dripped down from my hair and into my eyes before slumping down on the ground. I felt useless, unable to save even a small deer.
It was only when I stopped moving that I heard a faint sound, almost muffled by the howling wind. At first, I was sure it was nothing more than the sound of the wind through the hedges, but "this way," it called, again and again. I'd no idea which way was 'this way.' All I could do was frantically search for the source of the voice.
"Come this way, child," it whispered, almost as if it were behind me this time, and as I spun around, I could swear I saw the faintest of lights guiding my path forward. I'd always had a vivid imagination, but I'd never before seen visions of any kind, so I could only assume I was seeing the lights because I was meant to follow them. Getting to my feet again, I did just that. And strangely, I could no longer feel the cold wind and the rain. Time had stopped around me, and the only thing that existed were those lights and my compulsion to go wherever they were leading me.
"Follow me, my child. This way to your destiny," the voice said gently.
It was only when I found Alasdair and his party that the world around me seemed right again. The rain was, once again, cold on my body, and the wind seemed to burn through my limbs. There the three of them stood, the men with bows at the ready and aimed at the red hind. Alasdair's hounds had backed the creatures into a dead end of the maze. The tiny fawn shivered with the cold while it hid behind its mother, who stood proudly facing those there to kill her.
"Oh just be done with it already," Deirdre moaned. "It's miserable out here. I need a warm bath and dry clothes."
"Hush, Deirdre," Rhys argued. "Now come on, Alasdair. You deserve the honor of the first kill. Then we'll let the fawn go until it grows into a bigger prize."
For a moment, it looked as though Alasdair would put down his bow. That maybe seeing the creatures he'd been hunting would be as profound for him as it had been for me. But any hesitation on his face quickly disappeared as he let loose his arrow, straight into the deer's heart. She cried out, letting loose a final bellow, before sinking to the ground as delicately as a falling rose petal.
"No!" I cried out at the same time, but I knew I was too late. The crimson roses, that had only just begun to bloom, matched the color of the hind's blood as it stained the grass beneath her.
I looked at Alasdair's face as he stared at the creature, and I was almost certain I saw regret before a look of utter shock replaced it. For there before us, rising from the body of the slain hind, was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was even more golden than the sun, and shone with its own otherworldly light. Her eyes were piercingly blue, and her lips were redder than the currents of summer. She wore a dress that looked as if it were made of butterflies wings and the petals of flowers. The storm, regardless of how it howled and spat, had no power over her. It was almost as if the wind and rain were afraid to mar her delicate perfection. I knew, almost instinctively, that it was her voice I had heard—her light that I had followed here. But there was nothing gentle about her now, as she turned her ethereal gaze to the laird of Castle Droigheann.
"You have broken your covenant with me, Laird of the Seat of Thorns," she said sharply, and as if her words had force, Alasdair and his companions were pushed to the ground, subservient.
"I know of no Covenant with you, Lady," he answered, his voice quavering with fear and cold.
"You did, indeed, know of it boy, but you chose not to believe in it. That does not excuse you from the butchering of an innocent creature. You, who have also lost your mother, should understand this child's pain well," she said, stroking the fawn's brow with delicate fingers.
"It is clear to me that you are not fit to rule upon the throne I have graciously allowed your family to sit upon."
"You have allowed us? Castle Droigheann has been my family's seat for centuries!" Alasdair was brave enough to argue.
The lady only laughed at his attempt at defiance, the sound like a thousand bells being chimed all at once.
"I am the Queen of Elphame! Everything you see around you belongs to me. Each drop of dew on every blade of grass is mine. This land has been your family's seat for centuries only because I have allowed it. The men of the Lyall line have been honorable and compassionate, but I see none of them in you. You are a spoiled, self-indulgent child, unfit to remain my laird. I am inclined to take your life for the life of my hind," she said, waving her hand dismissively.
"I will be, My Lady, I swear it. Give me the chance to atone for my mistake," Alasdair begged. In that moment, I saw him not as a laird, but as a boy, not much older than I, begging for his life.
All of the stories I'd ever heard of the fairy queen spoke of how she was without mercy. To cross her meant nothing but doom and disaster. Alasdair might have disregarded tales of fairies as nothing but fancy, but I had learned and listened to the superstitious villagers. I knew that there was one thing a fairy could not resist. So, despite the fact that I did not like my new laird, I found myself speaking in his defense.
"What if he offers you a deal?" I asked in a voice that sounded much braver than I felt. The Queen of Elphame turned her sharp eyes on me and smiled.
"What kind of bargain would you have me make, child?" she asked, her tone much softer with me than it had been with Alasdair.
"It seems to me that taking a boy's life for the life of a deer would get you nothing. You'd have no suitable laird to rule, and no guarantee that whoever decides to take over would be any better than he is. Instead, why don't you offer him the chance to repent and become the sort of leader you'd want him to be? If he doesn't, then you haven't really lost anything. You'd be right back where you started."
Alasdair turned around, throwing me an incredulous look, but I ignored him. If he didn't intend on fighting for his life, I'd have to at least try for his sake.
The Queen laughed again, clasping her hands together in delight.
"What a clever child. I admit, I like the sound of your deal, with a few, minor amendments. Do not think I have not seen your effort to save my deer. In doing so, you shall be rewarded in turn," she said, moving towards me so daintily it was as if she were floating. Taking my hands in hers, she led me toward the now motherless fawn.
"You tried to save this creature's life, and so I give him to you. He shall be your lifelong companion, and your legs when your feet can walk no longer," she said. I looked at the small creature, his legs almost as weak as my own now, but someday he'd be surefooted and strong. His big, brown eyes stared up at me, and for a moment I thought he might be crying at the loss of his mother. My heart overwhelmed by compassion for him, I wrapped my arms against his neck.
"I will make amends to you Ruadh, I promise," I whispered, giving the deer a name that meant 'red of hair'. The deer was a strange gift, but I was grateful nonetheless. Still, it seemed as though the Queen of Elphame had finished with me and was ready to deliver Alasdair's punishment.
"As for you, boy, your companions are no longer welcome here. They will forget ever knowing you and will never be inclined to pay Castle Droigheann a visit again. Not a great loss, I'm sure," she said, and with a wave of her hand, the butterfly-like shapes from her dress burst forth in a flurry of light and color. Around and around they flew, until both Lord Rhys and Lady Deirdre were whisked away, never having known what hit them.
"Now hear me, Alasdair Lyall, Laird of Castle Droigheann. Our bargain shall be thus: You enjoy hunting, so I shall make you my hunter. No longer shall you hunt the creatures of the earth, but those who will seek to destroy my lands. Each day and each night you shall perform this task without fail, until I am satisfied that you have learned enough to be a compassionate and gracious leader. If those terms are not fulfilled before thirteen years have passed, then your life is forfeit."
"It seems simple enough, but why thirteen?" Alasdair wondered.
"You've had thirteen summers with your father to guide you, and I shall give you as long as that to learn to live without him in a way that he would be proud of. Isn't that generous of me? Now do we have a bargain or not?" the queen demanded. A knot formed in my stomach. Somehow, her terms seemed too easily achieved, though I couldn't put my finger on what exactly was wrong.
"I don't see myself as having much of a choice. Very well, I accept your terms," he agreed.
"Excellent," the Fairy Queen said, her eyes sparkling with delight. She had won a victory, but over what I was unsure.
"Killing you right away would have been a shame, after all. I will enjoy watching as you wallow in the futility of your task. I have ensured that all your dear companions will remember of their visit to Droigheann will be their encounter with a most terrible creature before I whisked them away. Thanks to your friends, rumors of the beast of Castle Droigheann will spread throughout the land, so I predict that you shall have your hands quite full.
"I don't understand," Alasdair replied, the temporary relief on his face now replaced by fear as the queen laughed once more.
"Oh my dear boy, don't be surprised. You can never truly win in a bargain with a fairy. You will become my hunter, but I never said that you'd be hunting as a man."
A flash of light as bright as the sun overcame the rose maze, and I sheltered my eyes in the crook of Ruadh's neck. The sounds of the wind and rain disappeared, overwhelmed instead by a great, sorrowful howl.