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  The shriek that Eagnaí released came out as a Honk!

  Aowyn clutched the transformed Stór close to her heart and charged toward Eagnaí. She barreled into Ciatlllait, knocking her back. Aowyn reached for Eagnaí to help him up as his transformation completed. “Get up!”

  Ciatlllait huffed and got to her feet as the children bolted down the hall. Eagnaí banged and bashed against the walls clumsily, honking with disorientation. Their elder brothers, Lorgaire and Rógaire, entered in the hallway with bewildered expressions. Aowyn blew past them. “Run!”

  A shock of blue darted toward them.

  Lorgaire was thrown through the air as the bolt made contact with his heart. Aowyn and Rógaire grabbed him and tossed him to his feet, even as his arms began to form into wings. Ciatlllait stomped after them, her magic shooting and whizzing every which way through the castle. It pummeled its way into Rógaire just as Lorgaire found his webbed feet. Eagnaí gained speed and began flapping his wings. They bounded through the kitchen into the open yard. Second-born Aodh Caoin Croí sat outside strumming a Celtic harp. Ciatlllait aimed for him. He reeled back in a heap of black feathers. Eagnaí took flight into the vast darkness overhead, followed soon after by Lorgaire and Rógaire. Tears formed on Aowyn’s cheeks as she ran. Stór peeped softly in her arms.

  Caoin Croí came-to and began waddling quickly after his sister, honking helplessly.

  “Run!” Aowyn cried, “run!”

  Caoin Croí honked and picked up speed. His black neck stretched out. His wings spread. He began flapping until the wind slid under him and carried him skyward. Aowyn glanced behind her. Near the castle doors, Ciatlllait squared her shoulders triumphantly. Aowyn bounded over the green hills and through wide fields, around dell and into glade. She ran with little Stór to the one place she thought they and their brothers could find safety.

  An Cuan Áille came into sight and spread before them. Five swans dove from the sky, crashing into the still waters. Two black swans and three white ones slowly came to the surface. They bumped into each other in a whirlwind of feathers and awkward new body parts. Stór began to squirm in Aowyn’s arms. His peeps were frightened. Aowyn stroked his downy chest to calm him. The grown swans swam toward Aowyn. Aowyn covered her mouth. The brothers honked softly.

  Sister! Oh, Sister! they implored

  Aowyn winced as she heard their voices jumble in her head.

  What has become of us?

  Aowyn turned her back to them, burying her cheek against Stór’s down. The waters of An Cuan Áille lapped softly against the shore. The world held only darkness.

  What will we do?

  Aowyn opened her eyes to see a glimmer of light stretching before her. She turned slowly. A great, pure white moon ascended slowly. The swan brothers turned and cast their sight skyward. Moonlight filled An Cuan Áille, rippling over the water. Aowyn reached out as if she could take it from the sky and clasp it to her heart forever. Sulwen’s words filled her mind. “My love is like the moon—shining and eternal. And as long as it rises in the sky, you shall never be alone.”

  Aowyn’s breath caught. “Brothers. Behold our mother!”

  CURSED

  Aowyn spent much of the following days with her swan brothers at An Cuan Áille. They were all too terrified to return home. Stór fared the worst, refusing to even go into the water. Eventually his brothers showed him that it was not so bad and even carried him on their backs at times. One day Eagnaí’s voice encouraged Aowyn to return to the castle, for who knew what terrible things Ciatlllait conjured now that the princes were out of the way. Aowyn resisted at first. She had made a vow to protect her brothers and her father. She steeled herself against her fear and began sleeping in her own room again, returning to the pond during the day. So long as the moon glowed in the sky, the princes were not alone.

  Ciatlllait closed in on the king. Aowyn aimed to comfort her father, rivaling Ciatlllait for his attention. Aodhagáin would often rest his arm on the throne beside him then focus at his hand as if expecting to still find Sulwen’s clasped within it. Aowyn’s heart ached for him. She wondered where he had been the night her brothers had been cursed. Why hadn’t he protected them? But Aodhagáin’s sorrow waxed so great that he could not see beyond it. Aowyn understood, yet understanding could not concede the morning she was summoned to the throne room and found Ciatlllait in Sulwen’s throne. Aodhagáin’s hand rested on Ciatlllait’s. Aowyn glanced between them with terror. Ciatlllait’s smile was wide and sly. Aowyn swallowed. Her heart raced.

  “Dear heart,” Aodhagáin announced, “we are going to be happy again.”

  Aowyn wanted to run from the room, but she clenched her fists and rooted herself to the spot. She glared at Ciatlllait.

  “You will have a mother again,” Aodhagáin continued.

  Aowyn glanced at her father. Had Ciatlllait cursed him as well? She shook her head. “My mother is dead.”

  The smile faded from Ciatlllait. She shifted in her seat nervously. She licked her lips. “Perhaps we could be friends.”

  Aowyn ground her thumb over her fisted fingers. “When are you to wed?”

  Aodhagáin leaned forward. “At Bealtaine.”

  Aowyn fought back the bile that boiled from her belly. How dare Ciatlllait take the king on a sacred day! A day meant for joy and renewal. A day that represented everything Aowyn now knew Ciatlllait did not.

  Aowyn looked away, for she could not stand the sight of that woman a minute longer. “May I be excused?”

  Aodhagáin bore puzzlement on his face. He leaned back in his chair and waved her on.

  Aowyn pivoted and marched forward. A safe distance down the hall, she collapsed against the wall, overwhelmed in a heap of tears. Maeb soon found her and hugged her close before helping her to her room to collect herself and ready for the day.

  Bealtaine?

  All of the swan brothers were just as shocked as Aowyn when she told them that afternoon. Aowyn was still getting a handle on who was who. All their voices tumbled together in horror. One of the white swans, Rógaire she thought, spread his wings and made a frantic run around the pond, breaking the mirror surface into thousands of angry ripples. Eagnaí’s voice came to her as a white swan with a golden beak. He stepped out of the water.

  What is she thinking? He honked softly.

  Aowyn shook her head. “I do not wish to know the evil in her mind.”

  A trumpeter swan circled behind the two black ones. Lorgaire’s voice entered Aowyn’s mind. Tell us again the story of Aobh’s sons.

  Aowyn thought back to the summer afternoon she had spent here with her mother and human brothers, splashing and playing and soaking in delicious sunlight, unmarred by curses or sorrow.

  “A long time ago, Aobh, wife to Lir, died while in her childbed. And that weighed so heavily on Lir that he nearly died of grief. News of it came to Bodb Dearg, king elect of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and he gave Lir to wife Aoife, sister of Aobh. Honor and affection abided with Aoife for her sister's children, and indeed no person at all could see those four children without giving them their heart's love.” Aowyn began to pace. “But a thorn of jealousy grew in Aoife, for Lir loved his children more than anything in the world. The thorn festered inside her until she could stand it no longer, and she did a deed of cruel treachery against the children of Lir.”

  Aowyn paused and surveyed An Cuan Áille. A shiver ran down her spine at the way history repeated itself.

  Go on! her brothers urged.

  “Lir’s daughter, Fionnuala, had no mind for Aoife, for she knew the woman had some plan of their destruction. She had seen in a dream that treachery existed in Aoife’s mind. All the same, Fionnuala could not escape what lay before them. Aoife urged her servants to slay the children, for whose sake their father had stolen his love from Aoife. And when the servants refused, Aoife took a sword and raised it against the children. But she was a coward and weak, and so she took them to Loch Dairbhreach, the Lake of the Oaks, and turned them into swans.�
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  Like us, Stór peeped.

  She bent her head with a pang in her heart. “Like us.”

  Aowyn heard Eagnaí’s voice. Continue.

  Aowyn took a deep breath. “‘Out with you,’ Aoife cried, ‘children of the king, your luck is taken away from you forever.’ And Fionnuala turned to her and said, ‘It is a bad deed you have done, to destroy us without cause. We know what your true name is, witch. You have struck us down with no relief, and you fall in satisfaction for it. Your power for our destruction is not greater than our love for each other.’ Fionnuala’s words angered Aoife, and the witch cursed them to be swans for a thousand years.”

  The swan brothers circled the calm waters in thought. The spring sun warmed them. Aowyn wondered if there was any hope of ever going back to the way things were before Ciatlllait had come to court.

  We can break the spell, said Lorgaire.

  “How?” Aowyn asked. “Tell me how and I will do it!”

  Love, honked Caoin Croí.

  “Love?” Aowyn’s mouth hung open. “Your idea of love is what got us into trouble! The only love you sing of now is a swan’s song.”

  Choróin shook his black head. Our love was misplaced. Our love was no love at all.

  Your love… Eagnaí suggested

  Your love is enough! Stór peeped.

  “If it is enough, why do you not change back?” Aowyn cried.

  The swans fell quiet again.

  Aowyn ran her fingers through her red curls. “There has to be more.”

  The servants would not help Aoife, Stór peeped.

  The servants! The brothers gurgled.

  Maeb? Stór suggested.

  Maeb! the older brothers echoed.

  Aowyn’s eyebrow arched. “Maeb.” She folded her arms. Aowyn knew Maeb loved them, so why had that love not saved them? How could the nursemaid help? Would Maeb believe her if she told her what Ciatlllait had done? Would it stop Ciatlllait and her plans to marry the king? Or would it come back on Aowyn? Would Ciatlllait find out and punish them further?

  Eagnaí rubbed his beak gently against Aowyn. You must try, Sister.

  For the love you bear us, Lorgaire added.

  Aowyn refused to acknowledge Ciatlllait as she sat at the king’s table for dinner. Fresh breads, cheeses, spring vegetables, meat, and mead sprawled before them. A musician played his lute in the corner. Ciatlllait raised her cup to the king and kept one eye trained on Aowyn. Aowyn leaned her head against her hand and chewed methodically. Aodhagáin glanced between them, wondering at their frigidity. Aowyn saw a glimmer of sadness remaining in her father’s countenance, but it faded under the wash of Ciatlllait’s honeyed talk.

  “If it pleases the king, I should like Aowyn to stand at my side come Bealtaine.”

  I will not, Aowyn wanted to protest. It sickened her to think Ciatlllait would have the gall to perform The Sacred Marriage with Aodhagáin.

  Aodhagáin swallowed his food and smiled. He lifted his cup of mead and tipped back his head.

  Aowyn thought his drink must be poisoned for him to calmly accept Ciatlllait’s nonsense.

  “You’ll love the dress I’ve picked for you, Aowyn,” Ciatllllait said as she pressed her lips to her mead cup.

  Aowyn pretended not to hear. You probably left all of the sewing needles in it, hag. She drank from her cup. To prick my heel. To pierce my heart. To make me bleed.

  “It’s green, Aowyn, to match your eyes. Inlaid with threads of gold and silver and red.”

  “Isn’t that lovely!” Aodhagáin exclaimed. He reached for Aowyn’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you think that’s lovely?”

  Aowyn lifted her head.

  “Aowyn…” Ciatlllait cooed.

  Aowyn stood so quickly that her chair tipped over. She pointed at Ciatlllait. “You will call me Your Highness!”

  Aodhagáin rose to scold her.

  Aowyn stopped him. “I cannot believe you are marrying this woman, Father! How can you bear to listen to the drivel that comes out of her? She is not what she plays.”

  Ciatlllait pressed her face into a white cloth and made weeping noises.

  Heat flushed Aowyn’s cheeks. “Look at her, Father.”

  Aodhagáin’s eyes flashed. “I am looking at her, and you have hurt the poor girl’s feelings. Apologize.”

  Aowyn clenched her fists and raised her chin.

  “Aowyn,” Aodhagáin growled.

  “Her tears are for show,” Aowyn shouted.

  Ciatlllait peered over her cloth, her cheeks pink beneath small droplets escaping her eyes. She buried her face again and let out another wail.

  “Apologize!” Aodhagáin roared.

  Aowyn glanced between them, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her fisted fingers rubbed one against the other in a wave. She sucked in a breath. “I am sorry you are blind to what I see. I am sorry you are a fool.”

  Aowyn pressed her hands against the table and leaned toward Ciatlllait. “I will never stand by your side. I will never apologize. I will curse you with my dying breath.” Aowyn spun on her heel as her father sank back into his chair, angered and bewildered. As she strode from the room, she glanced over her shoulder. Ciatlllait levelled the cloth momentarily to show that ever increasingly twisted smile before sobbing back into the cloth again.

  Aowyn slammed the door to her quarters. Maeb jumped from the chair in the corner and dropped her needlework. Aowyn paced her room, tangling her fingers in her hair. She let out a roar and kicked one of the posts of her bed. Maeb picked up her embroidery and placed it on the chair. She moved to the princess and reached for her hand.

  Aowyn felt the wrinkled, worn, pudgy fingers slip between her own and glanced down at their hands. She turned to Maeb and squeezed the nursemaid’s hand. Maeb’s expression softened. She pulled Aowyn to her and hugged her tightly. Aowyn buried her face in Maeb’s shoulder.

  Maeb stroked Aowyn’s hair. “It will be alright, dear one.”

  Aowyn thought of her brothers at An Cuan Áille, swimming in the light of the full moon. She did not see how everything would be alright, even if her brothers believed in her. She wondered how she could tell Maeb about them without condemning them all, for she feared Ciatlllait had ears lurking in every shadow.

  “Maeb? I have something to ask you.”

  “Is it about your brothers?”

  “Yes.”

  Maeb’s face drew. “They’re alive and safe, aren’t they?”

  Aowyn confirmed again. “I cannot tell you where they are for their safety.”

  Maeb looked down. “I understand.”

  “I need help.”

  Maeb raised her head. “Anything.”

  Aowyn led Maeb to the bed and sat at the edge of it. She peered over her shoulder to the door to make sure no one else listened. She turned her sights back to Maeb. “Remember the stories you used to tell me about creatures and curses? I think Ciatlllait knows them.”

  Maeb’s brow furrowed. “The stories?”

  Aowyn shook her head. “The curses.”

  Maeb’s mouth opened. Aowyn placed her fingers against Maeb’s cracked lips.

  “I think she means to place one on Father.”

  The color drained from Maeb’s face.

  A pit formed in Aowyn’s throat. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “We must let her.”

  Maeb fainted on the bed. Aowyn clambered over her and patted her face, trying to bring her to. Maeb groaned. Her eyes opened hazily.

  “There is no love in Ciatlllait’s heart. Love is the one thing that can break her. It is her weakness. You always told me in your stories that there’s nothing more powerful than true love.”

  Maeb gawked at the canopy of Aowyn’s bed. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish.

  Aowyn snapped her fingers over Maeb’s nose, trying to bring the nursemaid’s attention to her. Maeb’s breathing returned to normal. “Love is not enough.”

  “Love is all we have,” Aowyn said desperately.


  Maeb slowly pushed herself upright and dabbed at her forehead with her apron. “You must find the source of Ciatlllait’s power.”

  “How?”

  “You must find the one who gave it to her and persuade them to strip her of it.”

  Aowyn had not considered that witches like Ciatlllait were not simply born. To be mantled with such power sounded like even more of an abomination than to be born with it. Why would anyone seek out dark magic like that?

  “Have you ever heard tale of someone like that, Maeb? Someone who could bestow power.”

  Maeb reached for Aowyn’s wrists. Her expression became strained. “Yes, but I dare not speak its… his name. Even if I did, I am not sure it is him.”

  Aowyn leaned in close. “Whisper it to me.”

  “Sylas Mortas.”

  ITS NAME

  Ciatlllait wound her way down a darkened corridor to a secluded room with two braziers glowing with embers. She reached into her dress near her breast and pulled out a small pouch of glittering dust. She threw a pinch at each brazier. They roared to life as she spoke archaic words. She turned to a basin of silver liquid. Placing her hands on either side, she plunged her face into it and uttered the words, “Turn back the time, the hands will work.” She chanted them, the rest of her body swaying. She straightened. The liquid streaked down her face, vanishing before reaching her gown. Her skin tightened and lifted, making her appear younger than a moment ago. She ran her hands down her face and throat, over her chest and across her hips with a sigh. The braziers danced with light, casting silhouetted shadows of impish Fomóraiġ and devilish Sluagh on the walls. She took upon herself the black cloak of embroidered runes. She moved about the shadows in a dance, slow at first then more frantic. From another pouch she cast upon the floor a number of bones and curious rune stones. “I call upon thee, Sylas Mortas!”