“I’m sorry,” Fergal said as he passed by their boards. “I’m a bit behind today. Let me finish a few jobs and then we can talk.”

  Maeve twisted her head around the common room. Donal followed her eyeline, hoping to glimpse what she sought. Locals filled four of the nine boards crammed into the room. The patterns of wear and dirt pushed into the floorboards by a thousand brogues argued with the layout of the room. Likewise, two of the boards closest to the bar lacked the patina and gouges—the character—of their counterparts. Donal didn’t frequent inns or alehouses, but this room was remarkably bright, missing the grunge and dinge found in the corners of most common rooms. Even the fireplace featured streaks from where someone had scrubbed recent layers of soot from those permanently attached to the stone.

  “Love what she’s done with the place,” Maeve asked. “Where is she, Ferg?”

  “My father fell ill last night,” Fergal said. “She left for Letterkenny this morning to get supplies from the markets there. I am surprised—”

  The stable gate slammed shut, causing the wall closest to the stables to shudder.

  “Fergal!” an unseen woman called. “What’s the story with that wagon jammed into the stables?” she asked, her footsteps sounding on the hallway floor. They paused in front of the porter’s room on the other side of the common room wall. “I have your things, Mr. MacDavett,” she said in a softer tone. “I’ll set them here for now.” An older man groaned in appreciation.

  A redhead opened the rear entrance to the common room. She stood nearly six feet tall, her posture upright and imposing. Her broad frame was well-defined near her shoulders, arms and legs but much softer around her middle.

  Red hair hung straight down, framing a broad, heart-shaped face, until her locks bunched into orange waves near the middle of her back and her chest. Eyes the color of green chisel apples tucked behind thick red brows. Her nose was stout and short, its wide tip pointing straight ahead. Her mouth bore no striking features other than how wide it stretched when she smiled.

  And she was smiling at Maeve.

  “I would have recognized your dark draft horse had you not hidden it behind that monstrosity out back,” she said. “What have you brought to our door?”

  “Friends and problems,” Maeve said. “Luckily, they are not one in the same. Travelers, meet Brigid O’Cahan.”

  “Howya Siobhan, Niall,” Brigid said. She twisted her head and flattened her smile. “Maeve, are these the—”

  “—brothers who helped us save the Cauldron,” Maeve said in a deliberate manner. “Finn and Donal MacLaughlin.”

  Finn nodded. Donal felt his cheeks warm. Brigid was a compelling physical mix of coiled strength and beauty.

  “Donal!” Maeve said. “Are you going to greet the nice lady?”

  His face was so red it almost throbbed. “Sorry,” Donal said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Not at all,” Brigid said. “It’s nice to meet you, Donal.”

  Maeve stood as Brigid walked around their tables and the two embraced. After they parted Brigid stepped into Fergal and slipped an arm under his as she surveyed the room.

  That is one couple I wouldn’t want to cross, Donal thought.

  “Looks like you’ve prepared us for the evening,” Brigid said to Fergal. “All by yourself.”

  “It’s nothing,” Fergal said. “Besides, you were helping me by taking such good care of Da.”

  “Was that him in your old room?” Maeve asked Fergal.

  Fergal dropped his head. “Hai, so it was,” he said. “He’s been sick more often than he’s been healthy as of late. He told us to take his room above. Says he doesn’t want to mess with stairs.”

  Fergal shifted the couple’s weight once he caught Maeve resting her head in her hands and flashing an accusatory smile. “What is it, Maeve?”

  Maeve straightened her back and spent the entirety of five seconds clearing everything from her throat before speaking. “‘He told us?’”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Brigid’s shoulders sank. “O’Connor, you know yourself we’ve been… us for as long as we’ve known each other. I stopped waiting on my parents’ approval more than a year ago and traded work for the small room upstairs. A few months ago I stopped pretending that I wasn’t spending all my time with Fergal and cleared out my room.”

  “And you’re happy here?” Maeve asked.

  “It’s not easy,” Brigid said. “I won’t lie. But the people here haven’t forgotten what we’ve done and have remained hospitable to me. And they’re finally seeing Fergal for who he is, and I can’t tell you how that feels.” Her eyes rolled to the side as she twitched her head. “Do I miss some of the comfort of The Creeve? Of course I do. But it’s not worth seeing all those sanctimonious Holy Joes looking down their noses at my life and trying to stop me from living it. I’m at peace if I never see the lot of them ever again.”

  “Wait,” Siobhan said. “I thought you had a twin brother—”

  Fergal held up a hand to interrupt Siobhan’s thought. Brigid reached for his hand and held it in hers. “It’s alright, Ferg,” she said. “You’re talking about Brendan. He and Fergal are sound. But there’s simply too much to tell about how it went wrong—more than I’m willing to say, anyway. This is where I call home now. I’ve no desire to go back.”

  Niall and Maeve traded an uneasy look, one that did not escape Brigid’s attention.

  “What was that about?” Brigid asked. Her eyes and mouth sank. “You’re codding me,” she said. She paced the room, her volume attracting attention from the others eating their meals. “You’re absolutely codding me. Is this why you’re here?”

  Maeve stood and attempted to calm her. “Brigid, it’s not—”

  “—Brendan sent you here,” Brigid said. “Did you bring the rest of your crew because you thought it would stop me from screaming?”

  “—he didn’t—”

  “—Because you thought wrong! I’m not going back until they apologize to Fergal and accept things as they are.”

  “OI!” Maeve yelled. “Do you think I would ever take the side of your family over you and Fergal?”

  Brigid stopped her pacing and slowed her breathing. “I’m sorry, Maeve. I thought you were going to drag me to The Creeve to make nice with my family.”

  Siobhan and Finn rubbed their foreheads to cover their faces. Donal followed their lead—but left enough room to peek at the the discussion from under his hand.

  Maeve pointed to the empty table next to her. “Can you two please sit down? I’d rather not put on a show.” Once the couple had complied, Maeve spoke in a slow, demonstrative manner. “I’m going to say some things but you two have to promise to stay seated and quiet until I’m done. You’ll get plenty more time to scream at me, I promise.”

  “I’ll make no such promise,” Brigid said. Fergal studied Maeve’s face for a moment before he spoke. “I’ll oblige, but I’d ask Donal to lock the front door behind him so no townsfolk stumble in for a free show before dinner.”

  “Deal,” Donal said. He walked over and fumbled with the locking mechanism for a moment. I’m sure that did it, he thought as he returned to his seat.

  “You remember my last trip through town when I told you all about the business with the Dagda’s cauldron?” she asked. “Don’t say anything, just nod! We have new information that they’re on the verge of something big, something that will require the two missing Treasures.”

  “Treasures?” Fergal asked, raising a hand in apology. “Sorry, Maeve, I couldn’t resist.”

  “How many of the ancient tales has Brigid told you?” Maeve asked.

  “Just a few stories here and there,” Fergal said.

  “I thought they were both sílrad,” Donal said.

  “Fergal isn’t sílrad, but he’s fought alongside us before and risked his life doing so,” Maeve said. “As far as you all are concerned, he is. You have a problem with that? There’s the door. Now, for the sake of brevity, Fergal, we need a particular sword and spear to help us fight anything that comes our way. The problem is—”

  “—we don’t know where they are,” Brigid said.

  “But we do,” Maeve said. “At least we know the general area in which they’re hidden. The challenge is that nobody has returned successfully from a trip to that area.”

  Brigid tilted her head back and laughed. “So they’re in the Otherworlds and you want to go get them. And you want us to come with.”

  “Not just you,” Maeve said.

  “No.”

  “Houl your damn whist!” Maeve said, pointing a finger at Brigid. “We need him. We need those in this room, Murrough, Brendan—and anyone else in Coleraine and Tyrone we can muster, frankly—to suss out a way back home.”

  Brigid rubbed a finger across her mouth as she considered Maeve’s words. “But if we can’t find a way home?” she asked.

  “We will,” Maeve said.

  “But if we can’t, you’re dooming us to an eternity in one of the Otherworlds,” Brigid said. “And you can’t promise us it will be in Tír na nóg or Tír Tairnigire, either. There are some awful places we could get trapped.”

  “You’re missing the point, lass,” Niall said. “How much worse would that be than here in Tyrconnell if Breaslin’s plans succeed? He persuaded Crom Dubh to help him the last time. Imagine what he could do with the help of Tethra, Donn, Cichol, or worse.”

  Fergal leaned forward. “May we have a moment?”

  “Fergal?” Brigid asked.

  “Please,” Fergal said, pointing to the bar area. The couple walked behind the bar and spoke in hushed tones. Fergal noticed the audience on the other side of the room rapt in their silent conversation and shifted Brigid to a spot where his frame completely eclipsed her. After nearly a minute of seeing Brigid’s hands waving from behind Fergal, they returned to the table.

  Brigid blew out a long breath. “We can’t promise anything about your more exotic travel plans,” she said. “But tomorrow we’ll follow you to The Creeve and help plead your case in front of my family.”

  “Just like that?” Siobhan asked. “What about the inn? Mr. MacDavett?”

  “I’ve got some neighbors who owe me a favor,” Fergal said, “and I trust them to manage things while we’re gone.”

  Finn bumped his elbow against Donal’s and smiled. “Sound familiar?” he asked. “We know the plan well, sir.”

  “It won’t matter much in the end,” Fergal said, shrugging a shoulder. “No matter the outcome, we won’t be there a minute longer than required.”