Was that thunder again, or. no, could it be laughter?

«Ah, Bridget Greenleaf, you’re much as your mother was, daughter of mine.»

Daughter? His beautiful Bridey was daughter of the King of the fae?

«You’re right, this was a lesson to the Queen, and to an upstart warrior who would hope to usurp my throne by bedding her. When it didn’t work, he tried to take ye to blackmail me.»

Now Bridget softened her voice. «Aye. But he didn’t count on the strength of will and wit of my Bry, father.»

«I know now why you’ve remained in the mortal world, Bridget. You’ve a warrior true, and you’ve earned thy prize. Take Human home and nurse him well. It will be many days before the doxie poison leaves his system and I can offer only the crown star crystal to aid in thy fight and protect thy home. The burden now shifts from him to thee. Do ye accept this trial, daughter of mine, without even knowing the nature of it?»

Sound began to fade in Bryan’s ears, even as he felt himself being loaded again on the broad back of the loyal steed that would carry them home. To their home, in an emerald grove where he could rest and recover.

But he did hear one last thing before the world slipped into darkness and it warmed his heart. «I accept, Highness. The nature of the trial matters not. There is no burden so great that I cannot bear it for love.»

Cindy Miles

Nia and the Beast of Killarney Wood

County Kerry, Ireland — 1817


Nia of Clare cracked open first one eye, then the other, and peered over the edge of the blanket she had clutched to her chin. The damp cold stung her cheeks, but she cared not.

Tonight was the night.

Only the smouldering embers from the camp’s fire gave off any light to speak of; the moon’s absence would certainly be a hindrance. It would slow her down, aye, but ’twould no’ stop her. As she vaguely made out the silhouette of one of her six guardsmen, her eyes narrowed, and anger simmered beneath her skin. Her da may think her unfit for a husband, but to her idea, she need no’ have one at all. From what she’d learned of husbands, they were bothersome, bossy twits she wanted no part of anyway. Yet here she was packed up and guarded like some prized swine, being sent to the cloisters to live the rest of her days at a secluded abbey filled with grumpy old women.

Nia had other notions.

With a slow gaze she took in what little she could see of the camp. She knew where each of the guardsmen stood — rather, slumped. The buffoons took turns dozing, and it would only take a few moments for her to slither off into the darkness.

She’d stuffed her blanket with all her spare clothes. Rather lumpy, but still — from their drunken eyes, they’d ne’er notice till dawn. Besides, in the shadows of darkness it did sort of look like her slumbering body.

One could only hope.

Now!

Ever so slowly, Nia inched backwards on her belly, head down, cheek to the soil and matted leaves. The heady, earthy smell urged her on; it was freedom in her eyes. She made not a single sound as she eased away from her blankets, and she kept her gaze trained on the sentry about her. No one noticed!

At the edge of the campfire’s ring of light, she slithered back just enough, until finally, shadows engulfed her. Holding her breath, she rose, patted the pouch at her waist containing her coin, pulled the cowl of her cloak down, and moved into the night.

Minutes later, the bark of the guardsmen’s hound shot through the air.

Without another thought, Nia fled. Running blindly into the wood, her heart thumped as the guards shouted, booted feet pounded behind her, dogs howled with excitement, and her moment of freedom narrowed. Through the foliage she ran as fast as her legs could pump. Thorny vines slapped her face and ripped her flesh, but she didn’t care. What harm could they do? With the air in her lungs burning, she swiped at branches, jumped over rocks and a fallen tree, until finally, the shouts behind her grew softer. Distant.

Still, she ran. The guardsmen wouldna follow her — that much she knew. Not into this forest. For deep within Killarney Wood lived a beast of legend. One with a savage thirst for human blood. One without mercy.

One she didna give a frog’s fat figgy arse about!

Nia no more believed in such gory fairy tales than she did in fancy ones where knights on white steeds rescued their maiden fair. Neither existed. Both were ridiculous.

What did exist, though, ’twas her pending capture, so with that thought in mind she continued to run blindly through the shadowy wood. The night air chilled straight through her woollen cloak to her bones, but she didna care a whit—

Suddenly, Nia stopped dead in her tracks. Although she could barely see past her own nose, white puffs of warm air billowed out before her with every breath. Her ears tuned in to the verra noise that stopped her.

Footsteps. Moving through the brush. Faster. Heavy. Closer.

Her heart slamming into her ribs, Nia took off, the frosty air biting her cheeks. She didna look back to see which o’ the guards neared — she merely ran. The muscles in her thighs burned as she made her way deeper into the wood and, just when she thought her predator had given up, a weight of steel crushed her to the ground, the air in her lungs whooshing out in one big breath. A large hand slipped over her mouth and, even though the breath had been knocked clean out o’ her, she shivered at the strange, deep voice whispering in her ear.

«Dunna move.»

Nia didna. She couldna breathe, much less move.

Then, at once, the ground beneath her belly shifted, and an odd cracking sound split the air. Before the next second, the earth gave way, the heavy body atop her swore in a language unfamiliar to her ears, and then they were both falling, tumbling downwards in a passage too small for their bodies. Sharp roots snagged Nia’s cloak, rocks, pebbles and dirt scattered, until she fell no more. With a heavy thud, she landed, the steely body still wrapped about her. Pain shot to her shoulder as she heard a small pop. What air was left in her lungs was crushed out and little lights flickered behind the lids of her eyes like fireflies.

Then everything went pitch black.

When Nia cracked open her eyes, everything remained pitch black. Where was she? She couldna see a thing. The pungent smell of earth and peat permeated the cave. And the moment she pushed up on her elbow, she cringed and bit back a yelp as pain shot to her shoulder. No doubt she’d dislodged it again. Amidst the hurt, she managed to sit upright. Whoever had fallen with her may still be about. She drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. «Hello?» A wave of nausea washed over her. She needed to fix her shoulder. ’Twould be difficult to do alone, but she’d managed before. «Is someone there?»

«Who are you?»

Nia jumped as the verra same deep voice from before now sounded at her ear. It was a harsh, unfriendly tone — more like a wild animal growling — and she shuddered. The movement jostled her shoulder, and she winced from the jolt, her heart pounding. She held her arm close to her body, stilling the shoulder. «I am. Nia Donovan. of Clare.»

Silence. Then, «What is wrong with you?»

At first, that annoying fear which niggled at times gripped her. Had the stranger seen her horrid face? How could he have? The wood had been nearly as dark as the place they now were in, and she’d had her cloak pulled tightly about her. Once again, she noticed his voice — cold, angry, threatening and barely under control. Nia couldna decipher why, and it somewhat angered her, as well. «You fell on me, sir,» she said. «And my shoulder is dislodged.» Scooting her booted feet beneath her bottom, she tried to rise without the use of her arms. Before she could manage it, the stranger’s hands were there, intimately on her hips, steadying her until she was standing. Strong, heavy hands remained against her, and Nia was shocked at how her skin flamed beneath her cloak and linens where he touched.

«Which shoulder?»

She could barely speak, so intense was the throbbing. «Right.»

His hands left her hips, only to find her right arm, which hung limp by her side. Rough calluses skimmed her skin as the man felt upwards, until he had her shoulder clasped in his palms.

«’Twill hurt,» he said, his breath brushing her cheek.

«I know,» Nia whispered, and squeezed her eyes shut. A fierce wave of pain ripped through her as he pressed hard, and just that fast her shoulder popped into place.

Nia drew several deep breaths to keep the tears away. When the nausea passed, she rotated her shoulder several times. «Thank you,» she said to the darkness. «Can I know your name, sir?» It seemed strange, being in such close contact with a stranger — a man — without knowing who he was, or even what he looked like. ’Twas a mite unnerving to say the least.

«Cyric.»

His voice, not quite as hostile as before, ran of an accent unfamiliar to Nia. «Thank you again, Cyric.»

«Aye.»

Nia felt a shift in the air as Cyric moved away from her. «Is there a way out?» she asked.

«Nay.»

This Cyric answered just as calmly as he had her other questions, and she now felt the first niggles of irritability settling in. Running away from her tyrant father’s controlling grasp was one thing; dying of starvation in a pitch-blackened cave was quite another.

Her stomach growled loudly, and Nia placed a hand over it.

«When was the last time you ate?»