The Forgotten Ones

bed.
    “Not all of your visions will come true, you know.”
    I froze after popping my shirt over my head. “That hasn’t happened?” I asked.
    Niamh shook her head. A huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. That meant I might still have time.
    “Now I just need to get Ethan away from the seductress fairies at Aoife’s brothel or whatever it is, we can figure out what is needed to break the geis, and we can all go home,” I said, yanking a sock onto my foot. Frustration was setting in—I was surprised I hadn’t snapped sooner.
    “Don’t worry about your grandfather, Allison. My mother has sent decoys to take your place while you’re here.”
    “What do you mean by decoys?” I asked, scrunching my face around the word.
    “Two of my handmaidens and one of my guards are glamoured to pass as you, Ethan, and your mother.”
    I stared at her for a second, unsure how to respond.
    She huffed a little and waved dismissively. “We have to keep up appearances. I know it feels like you’ve only been in Tír na n’Óg for a single day, but in your world it’s been about three weeks.”
    I shook my head and stood. “Aodhan mentioned the time difference. That is so bizarre.”
    “Maybe, but it’s true.”
    As she was speaking, I caught a glimpse of Aodhan standing just outside the doorway. Before last night I might not have picked up on the pinprick of emotion in his eyes as he watched Niamh. As it was, I wasn’t sure I was reading the whole situation correctly, but something was there.
    “We should be going,” Aodhan said firmly. Any emotion I thought I’d seen burned away as fast as it had appeared. Niamh gave me a tiny nod and quietly slipped past him.
    “We’ve been given provisions to last two days,” he said without another look at Niamh.
    His face screwed up as he muttered under his breath, “However long that really is.”

    I’d never really been able to achieve comfortable silence with anyone other than my family before. For whatever reason, people feel this innate need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, but Aodhan led me down the hill quietly. I wasn’t sure exactly why he hadn’t offered to run, but I had a feeling it was because he needed some time to think too.
    Seeing my mother the way I’d always heard her described—smiling and radiant—had been one of the best moments of my life. Leaving her so soon was hard, especially after learning that as soon as we set foot out of Tír na n’Óg she’d go back to the way I’d always known her.
    The memories of Ethan with all of those women and what they could do to him burned my eyelids. I couldn’t let him become like my mother. His family would be devastated, and I still had a chance to prevent it from happening. I didn’t know how, but Saoirse’s words made me hopeful that she had seen a future in which I’d saved Ethan.
    I heard chattering then as I walked past a smattering of ash trees. On a low branch, a squirrel watched me with intelligent eyes. I thought of how Aodhan had said the vines were curious about me. Apparently, this critter was also.
    Aodhan walked several paces ahead, tense and alert to every sound and movement. The way he moved reminded me of a panther. I wondered if he had always been this agile, or if it was the effect of being in Tír na n’Óg for so long.
    “Aodhan,” I called ahead.
    He stopped and turned. “Aye?” he asked.
    “I was just wondering what your gift is?” All the Danaans had some kind of ability, but he hadn’t mentioned his yet.
    He snorted, turning his head away. “My gift,” he muttered as he started walking again.
    “Sorry,” I said, embarrassed for having brought it up.
    “I suppose the gift you speak of would be my strength. I’m stronger than most of the others, faster probably, too.” He slowed his pace so that we were walking side by side.
    I nodded, but he wasn’t done.
    “I can do a little of everything they can do, I think. I can use glamour to stay hidden—so that would be the mind control. And I can sometimes, but not often, move things with my thoughts. It’s sort of like singing. Anyone can sing, some just do it better than others.”
    To hear him speak openly like that was surprising and wonderful. He had such a deep accent, too. I wondered what his life had been like growing up in Ireland so long ago. And what had made him decide to come with me.
    “You want to know why I agreed to help you,” he said as he rubbed one hand across the fuzz