Tír na nÓg Trilogy, Book III: Tír na nÓg

Tara

Emer and Setanta exchanged looks, neither sure what to think. "Why would you help us?" the girl asked, her own hand on her dagger.

Mug Ruith withdrew a staff from within his cloak. It looked on one end like a mallet, but when he tapped it with his finger, it burst into a colorful flame that put off swirling iridescent smoke, the tendrils of which moved up into the sky and shimmered like a dark rainbow. "A fate without love is a cruel fate indeed."

Unimpressed, Setanta frowned. "If you wed us, you defy the Gods."

"So let it be; they've nothing they can do to me."

Emer pulled Setanta aside. "Let him do the ceremony!" she pleaded. "Whatever his reasons, he can serve our purpose."

Setanta furrowed his smooth brow. "I like it not--where did he come from? How did he know our intentions?"

"It doesn't matter. He is of use to us, now." She took a breath before adding, "Or would you have us wait?"

He peered deeply into her eyes, sought his answer there. "No, Gods know I cannot wait."

Their hearts in unison, they turned to Mug Ruith, who withdrew a golden cord from somewhere within his cloak and, asking Setanta and Emer to face one another and grasp hands, entwined it around their wrists and fingers as he performed the wedding rites. Beneath the prismatic iridescence of color, they made their vows as two free people to remain by one another's side, to be faithful and true, and to cherish the love between them. More eyes than the hidden ones of the strange druid seemed to watch them, that night; Emer was sure the Gods knew every moment of the ceremony, and a rebellious pride glowed within her. Their plans for her, to use her, were over, and she would have the only man she'd ever loved. Even then, standing with her hands in his, hardly hearing the words spoken by Mug Ruith, Emer couldn't quite believe what was happening. Hadn't it been less than a season ago that Setanta had found her in the river? How could this man, so perfect, so mighty, who could surely have had the heart of any woman--how could he have chosen her, who was of no notable lineage and whose life had largely been spent in solitude?

And what was to come? The immediate implications of their handfasting caused her heart to beat wildly; the thought of being nearer to him than she already had been, allowing him to fully love her, was pleasurable, though it was also agonizing. How should she behave with him? What did he expect of her? Would she know what to do? She'd had only that old serving woman to teach her such things, and she'd surely left much out. And then there was life beyond that night--presumably, she'd never return to Lugloctha Loga; she'd be Lady to Setanta's Lord, and he'd take her to wherever it was he was from. There would be much to which she'd have to adjust. What would people think of her? Would she be loved or hated? Just how little she really knew of him and his life struck her in those moments during which Mug Ruith spoke and formed a stone circle and gave a blessing.

Before Emer could figure out how exactly to feel, the ceremony was complete, and they were wed.

Mug Ruith removed the cord from their hands and wrists, and Setanta looked at her with such an intense satisfaction that Emer couldn't help but blush. "I will complete the contract," Mug Ruith said, then, "and I will go. But I ask that you give me a word in private, young Lord, so that I may offer advice about married life."

Emer raised an eyebrow. That sounded . . . awkward, coming from a druid. In any case, she looked about, caught sight of another mound of earth, and pointed, saying to Setanta, "I'll wait for you there."

Setanta didn't seem to want her to leave his sight, but Mug Ruith called his attention with some sort of herbal sprinkling, and Emer dashed off across the dewy, grassy expanse, needing to run, to feel the cool air against her face. How nervous she was! What was to come? Oh, she knew what was to come, and she both wanted and feared it. Could she really . . . ? But she was his wife, now! It was the way of things, and didn't she want to, anyhow? More than just a bit?