Princes of Air by Elizabeth Schechter

Author:Elizabeth Schechter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, witches, erotic romance, celtic, sorcerers, soul mates, shape shifters
Publisher: Riverdale Avenue Books

Part Three

The Raven and the Fox

In an instant, your entire world can change. I know this for a fact.

Last year, when summer dawned on the land, one could take wing and fly from one shore of Eire to the other and see people at their labors, farmers and herdsmen and the like. You would see children at play, with their mothers standing by, and if you were taken with the notion to land, you would be welcomed as a traveler and offered a bite and a bed, and all the gossip you could stand. Last year, all was well with the world.

No longer. Now, when one of the sons of the Morrigan must leave Dun-Morrigan, we dare not go alone. In twos and threes we travel, and when we do go, we see men watching suspiciously, armed to protect what is theirs. We see no women, no children, for they are hidden away for their own safety. Though how one can protect themselves from the likes of a deamhan aeir is not a question that anyone has been able to answer. The people are afraid, and they look to the High King to keep them from their fear. The High King, in turn, looks to us for answers. Answers that we have not yet been able to provide him.

In truth, the sons of the Morrigan are as frightened as the people in the villages. Last year, we never thought of our own mortality. We never thought we could be defeated. Hampered, yes. We’d had that proven to us. But defeated? Of course not. Killed? Out of the question.

How painful that lesson was to learn, and how well we learned it. We took it to heart, and it changed us all. I suppose that it was because of that lesson in mortality that there was a rush of marriages in Dun-Morrigan. Maelan was first, making his marriage with the falling of the leaves. He brought saucy, golden-haired Caitilin, the tavern-keeper’s daughter, into his house, revealing to all of us that the reason he’d spent so much time at the tavern was that he’d been waiting for his mate to notice him. Cathal was next, wedding his Alis with the first snows of the year, and for the first time in months, we again heard our merry brother laughing, a welcome sound in our too-quiet halls. And as the snows faded and spring again started to green the hills, Oscar—Oscar, of all people—brought shy, quiet Muirenn into his house as his bride and his apprentice.

This rash of marriages made sense, I suppose. A form of defiance, laughing at fate and creating life in the face of certain death. If we survive until next summer, we will more than likely be awash in babies. Yes, it makes sense, and somehow, I cannot understand why. We all heard Ailill’s promise—nay, his curse—as he escaped: Never another night’s quiet sleep, ravens! Never another moment’s peace! He will hunt us, and he will destroy us, as easily as he destroyed my twin.

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