down on a sofa carved from the trunk of a tree. It had Celtic designs scrolled along the edges and was padded with down-filled cushions. Her favorite place to strategize.
Her da had been a brilliant strategic planner.
Now she needed her own battle plan.
One that provided for a husband who could pass through the castle warding. Not just any man but—
The ward protecting Treoir Castle shivered with the introduction of power. Massive power.
“Must you always sulk?”
Brina sighed at Macha’s husky voice. Had she called up the goddess by thinking about her? Unfortunately, when Brina’s father had warded the castle against any other immortals, he’d made an allowance for the Celtic goddess to pass through unharmed.
He’d believed Macha would watch over his only daughter.
He’d never considered how a goddess could turn eternity into a living nightmare.
Brina lifted her gaze to where Macha now lounged above the giant stone mantel that spanned a fireplace two brawny warriors could stand inside. Waves of tawny hair spun with sunlight floated past Macha’s bare shoulders and covered the arm she was using to prop herself up. Today she wore a dazzling white gown created with thousands of perfect pearls. She turned her luminous hazel green gaze downward toward the fireplace grate and logs appeared. Flames blazed to life.
Macha’s attempt at being hospitable.
Or she was in one of her decorating moods.
Brina appreciated the gesture, but she would not accept being reduced to the level of a child. “Wee ones sulk. I am contemplative.”
“Ah, yes, semantics, as mortals like to say.” Macha waved long fingers glittering with jewels and rare metals carved in intricate designs.
“I’m glad you’ve come by,” Brina replied. The only reaction she received was a glint of curiosity in Macha’s eyes.
Brina went on. “I feel it’s time we discussed an heir.”
Macha brightened at what had to be an unexpected topic. “I have been so patient, allowing you to adjust to this life.”
Is that what Macha thinks I’ve been doing for the past four years in this place? Adjusting?
Brina forced her hands to remain at ease and not flinch with anger. She’d learned long ago that showing any emotionhanded the goddess ammunition to use at a later time. Not that Macha was a cruel or unfair goddess, but like all deities she used everything within her power to get her way.
“Why must you keep this place so gloomy?” Macha glanced around the room.
Candles flickered to life, dancing soft light against the stone walls. A wicker basket filled with dried flowers and spices appeared on the smooth wooden table her father had crafted with his own hands, right down to the inlaid Belador Triquetra emblem. Her father had sat on that stout table facing her the last night they’d spoken.
Six nights later, Macha had informed Brina that her father and brothers were dead and that Brina could not leave the castle. Some memories were best left unbidden.
The goddess kept dabbling until the room changed from dark and lonely to toasty and . . . suspicious.
Watching Macha decorate picked at Brina’s limited patience.
When Macha spoke, her vibrant voice smoked through the room with purpose. “I’m pleased to find you ready to do your duty to secure the future of the Beladors.”
As if I have ever shirked my duty to the tribe. “Do allow me to point out their future is why I’m here. Every. Day. Forever.”
And alone, because Macha professed she could not remove the cursed warding.
Macha made a clicking sound of reprimand. “Insolence is unattractive, unproductive and . . . unwise.”
Not like she’s going to kill me, but she could make life more miserable than it is, though that would be hard to imagine. “My apologies.”
The goddess stared up as if studying the cathedral-high ceilings, then lowered an unreadable gaze. “I know you’re lonely here and we must continue your family dynasty.” She smiled. “Marriage would be good
Her da had been a brilliant strategic planner.
Now she needed her own battle plan.
One that provided for a husband who could pass through the castle warding. Not just any man but—
The ward protecting Treoir Castle shivered with the introduction of power. Massive power.
“Must you always sulk?”
Brina sighed at Macha’s husky voice. Had she called up the goddess by thinking about her? Unfortunately, when Brina’s father had warded the castle against any other immortals, he’d made an allowance for the Celtic goddess to pass through unharmed.
He’d believed Macha would watch over his only daughter.
He’d never considered how a goddess could turn eternity into a living nightmare.
Brina lifted her gaze to where Macha now lounged above the giant stone mantel that spanned a fireplace two brawny warriors could stand inside. Waves of tawny hair spun with sunlight floated past Macha’s bare shoulders and covered the arm she was using to prop herself up. Today she wore a dazzling white gown created with thousands of perfect pearls. She turned her luminous hazel green gaze downward toward the fireplace grate and logs appeared. Flames blazed to life.
Macha’s attempt at being hospitable.
Or she was in one of her decorating moods.
Brina appreciated the gesture, but she would not accept being reduced to the level of a child. “Wee ones sulk. I am contemplative.”
“Ah, yes, semantics, as mortals like to say.” Macha waved long fingers glittering with jewels and rare metals carved in intricate designs.
“I’m glad you’ve come by,” Brina replied. The only reaction she received was a glint of curiosity in Macha’s eyes.
Brina went on. “I feel it’s time we discussed an heir.”
Macha brightened at what had to be an unexpected topic. “I have been so patient, allowing you to adjust to this life.”
Is that what Macha thinks I’ve been doing for the past four years in this place? Adjusting?
Brina forced her hands to remain at ease and not flinch with anger. She’d learned long ago that showing any emotionhanded the goddess ammunition to use at a later time. Not that Macha was a cruel or unfair goddess, but like all deities she used everything within her power to get her way.
“Why must you keep this place so gloomy?” Macha glanced around the room.
Candles flickered to life, dancing soft light against the stone walls. A wicker basket filled with dried flowers and spices appeared on the smooth wooden table her father had crafted with his own hands, right down to the inlaid Belador Triquetra emblem. Her father had sat on that stout table facing her the last night they’d spoken.
Six nights later, Macha had informed Brina that her father and brothers were dead and that Brina could not leave the castle. Some memories were best left unbidden.
The goddess kept dabbling until the room changed from dark and lonely to toasty and . . . suspicious.
Watching Macha decorate picked at Brina’s limited patience.
When Macha spoke, her vibrant voice smoked through the room with purpose. “I’m pleased to find you ready to do your duty to secure the future of the Beladors.”
As if I have ever shirked my duty to the tribe. “Do allow me to point out their future is why I’m here. Every. Day. Forever.”
And alone, because Macha professed she could not remove the cursed warding.
Macha made a clicking sound of reprimand. “Insolence is unattractive, unproductive and . . . unwise.”
Not like she’s going to kill me, but she could make life more miserable than it is, though that would be hard to imagine. “My apologies.”
The goddess stared up as if studying the cathedral-high ceilings, then lowered an unreadable gaze. “I know you’re lonely here and we must continue your family dynasty.” She smiled. “Marriage would be good
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