“I don’t know,” Aislinn replied, glad the dragon seemed impervious to being bullied about. “The Old Ones call her Orione. She, ah, recognized me as a MacLochlainn and covered my butt so I could hustle Rune and myself out of there.”
Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt Fionn glare at her. “Ye had such a close call, then, and went back for more. What are ye, lass, stupid? Are ye so intent on throwing your life away—?”
“Leave her be.” Bran snorted. “Ye are so deep in rut for your long-lost soul mate, ye canna see straight. Lass...” His coppery gaze found hers. “If ye ever tire of him and his overbearing ways, I wouldna boot you from my bed.”
That brought a laugh from the others. Aislinn held her breath and blew it out once Fionn joined them. “There just might be a wee bit o’ truth in that, though ye can forget the bedding part.” He clapped Bran on the back and returned to his chair.
Aislinn drained off half her mead, relished its heat traveling to her belly, and then launched into the second installment of her story. I could have my own television show. Aislinn’s Adventures in Taltos. Bet it would sell as well as Alice in Wonderland.
She noticed Gwydion looking oddly at her long before she stopped talking, but ignored him so she could finish what she had to say. His blue gaze grew unnerving, so she faced him and asked, “What?”
He shook his head. “I suppose I was marveling that ye managed to kill a Lemurian. Had ye stuck with magic, ye would have failed. Why ever did ye choose hand-to-hand combat against an adversary so much larger than yourself?”
She shrugged. “Rune had already killed two of them. I figured if he could do it, so could I.”
Gaelic flowed around the table. She followed some of it. Mostly, the men were speculating why Metae hadn’t fought back harder.
Aislinn broke into the conversation. “For some reason, Metae wanted me alive. She must have thought she had a special enough bond with me that we could work through the bad feelings.” Aislinn spread her hands in front of her. “She used compulsion like always. For some reason, I was impervious to it this time.”
“Dewi,” Fionn muttered. “She’s got to be behind this. She’s the one who opened your mind to the Old Ones’ language.”
More Gaelic. They’d been hunting Dewi for centuries, but she’d hidden herself, ostensibly deserting them after they’d sent her to spy on the Lemurians. They argued about what Dewi had up her sleeve, masquerading as Orione. Aislinn heard MacLochlainn over and over, but couldn’t decipher the parts before or after.
Once she finished her meal, she asked, “What are you saying about me?”
“I thought you understood Gaelic,” Fionn said in perfect English.
“I do—sort of. But not when it’s so fast.”
“It doesna matter,” Arawn said. “According to Fionn, ye are not interested in Irish history. Besides, it would take far too long to give you a crash course in your ancestry. The short version is that your family and Dewi have primordial links dating back to the fifth century. She would protect you. ’Tis part of an ancient bond.”
Her eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s not so much that I’m not interested, but it feels a bit overwhelming.”
Aislinn had begun formulating questions, when Gwydion flowed from his chair to an upright position in one supple movement. Like Fionn, he was incredibly light on his feet for such a large man. “I would look on that spell in the attic that defeated you, lass.”
Rune padded into the kitchen, a rabbit clutched between his jaws. Aislinn hoped everyone would remember not to implicate Marta in whatever had happened to her parents. “We’re going back to the attic,” she told the wolf. “You can stay here and eat. Bella will keep you company.” She glanced meaningfully at the raven.
Aislinn led the way to the back staircase. Fionn trooped after Gwydion. She smiled to herself. He doesn’t want to leave me alone with one of his buddies. Is he really afraid I’ll take a shine to one of them? Aislinn couldn’t help herself. She laughed at the absurdity of it. Fionn was almost more than she could handle. The last thing she needed was two of him.
“What’s so funny?” Fionn asked, but she just shook her head, grateful he hadn’t chosen that particular moment to read her thoughts.
Once in the attic, Gwydion stalked to the corner Aislinn indicated. He raised his staff, spoke words in a language she didn’t recognize, and the length of polished wood in his hand came alive with light. The minute it did, she saw a spell hovering around two crypts.