Alethia fixed a wary eye on the fortune-teller’s green-and-white-striped tent, and gripped her husband’s arm. “Malcolm,” she whispered, pointing with her chin toward the dreaded tent.
“I see it, mo anam.” He gave her hand a reassuring pat.
Hunter, sensing their sudden tension, clutched her gown with one hand and Malcolm’s plaid with the other. Alethia took a deep breath and raised her chin. “Let’s get this over with.”
As they approached, she felt the same sensation prickling down her neck she’d experienced the first time she entered the fortune-teller’s tent. Giselle appeared in the entrance as if she’d been expecting them. Hunter balked, stopping in his tracks.
“Welcome, Alethia.” Giselle beckoned them to come inside. “Malcolm.”
“Madame Giselle, we have some questions for you.” Her heart pounding, Alethia forced herself to move forward. The old woman chortled, sending goose bumps skittering over her skin. She nudged Malcolm, who hadn’t said a word.
“Aye, we have questions. I would have your assurance my family is safe to enter yon tent.”
Malcolm had his hand on the dagger at his waist, and she held her breath.
“You have naught to fear from me, lad. Enter. I will answer your questions as best I can.”
Hunter wouldn’t budge. Sending Malcolm a look, Alethia beseeched him for help, and he lifted his son and ducked as he entered the tent. She followed. Giselle had three chairs set around her table. She had been expecting them. Alethia arranged her gown and sat in one. Malcolm took his place beside her, and Hunter clung to him with his face pressed into his foster father’s neck.
“First, I want to know why you never came for me after I saved Malcolm’s life,” she began. “Did you always intend for me to stay?”
“Malcolm’s life? Humph. ’Twas not his life you were sent here to save, child.” Giselle snorted.
“Whose then?” Fear that her ordeal was not yet over gripped her.
“There sits the lad whose life hung in the balance.” Giselle pointed to Hunter.
Hunter glanced at the old woman over his shoulder, his eyes wide with fear.
“I don’t understand.” Alethia frowned. “Why did you give me the pendant? You said I’d know my destiny when I found its mate.” She looked at her husband. “He had the ring.”
“Aye, I gave Malcolm the ring so you’d know you were in the right place.” She cackled with glee. “I do enjoy a bit o’ matchmaking. Do you still have the necklace?”
Giselle looked at her as if she knew very well what had happened to the pendant.
“No.”
Beside her, Malcolm reached into his sporran and drew out the necklace with the ring on its chain. Alethia jumped to her feet. “You’ve had that damned thing all this time and never told me?”
“Be at ease. Neither piece holds any magic whatsoever,” Giselle commanded. Her voice had changed. No longer did she sound like the old woman she appeared to be. “They are a gift to you both. My husband had them made for me as a wedding present eons ago.”
“Who are you, Giselle? Do you pose a threat to me and mine?” Malcolm demanded as he too rose from his place.
“Nay, I am no threat to you and yours. Sit, both of you.”
As Alethia watched, Giselle changed before her eyes. The visage of the old gypsy gave way for a brief instant to reveal a being so ethereal and beautiful it hurt to look at her. Hair the color of moonlight hung about her shoulders and fell all the way to her ankles, huge eyes an impossible iridescent blue set wide in a perfect oval face regarded them with an expression she could not interpret.
She sat as ordered. Malcolm did the same beside her.
Just like that, the image disappeared, and they faced Giselle once again. “Did you see what I saw, Malcolm?” she whispered.
“Aye, I saw.”
“My name is Áine. I am of the race called Tuatha Dé Danann. Some call us faerie folk, though we do not name ourselves thus. Only once in my long life did I wed, and he was a mortal—a braw warrior and the founder of clan MacConnell. I gave him seven sons and one daughter. Hunter is my grandson many generations removed. The blood of the Tuatha Dé Danann also runs through your veins, Alethia. ’Tis why you have the gifts that you do. It took me some time to find one such as yourself. My husband’s clan intermingled freely with my people. Their giftedness was highly revered by all. You are both MacConnells.”
“Wait. Time out!” Alethia cried. “I’m part faerie?”
“Aye.” Giselle laughed, and it sounded like a running brook. “I am a time traveler. I like to visit my progeny from time to time. It gives me pleasure to do so.