She pushed open the door of the small croft and found that the fire had been allowed to die. A stack of wood lay by its side, yet nothing burned within. Her face flared with anger and she reached out to grab some of the sapless kindling. To her amazement the fire drizzled into life and flames flickered lazily towards the hole in the roof. Puzzled, she set the kindling back down and stared into the warmth for a few moments. Her imagination made much of the fact that something resembling a face flickered out at her. Blonde hair and bright eyes, burning eyes, looked out at her, drawing her near. The door flew open and a blast of cold wind blew through the room, shooing away the image in the fire.
“Holy Mary, but this wind is rising. Have the animals been fed?” Angus blew on his hands to fight the ice within them.
“Of course they have,” she snapped, vexed that her vision had been dispelled before she had finished with it. “The fire was out.”
“Och, Rowena, there’s a peevish note to your voice I cannae say I like. Fetch us a rug to wrap around my cold shoulders, unless you fancy wrapping your bonny wee self around them.”
“I’ve dinner to set on and it will take forever to get the water up now the fire’s out. I’ve no time to take the chill off you. “
“Well you’d better get to it then, hadn’t you?” He squeezed between her and the fire, letting his fingers pinch at the flesh on her bottom as he did so. “You’re a fine woman, but a wee bit to fond of the sound of your own voice now and again.”
He lumbered to the back of the cottage and she could hear the sound of his large body moving around, filling the space with male disorder. The fire had calmed itself to a low burn now, red and gold flickering reflected on the walls.
“I’m away to fetch some salt beef from the store. Shan’t be more than a few minutes,” she called above the heavy sound of his movements.
“See that you’re not,” he called back. “My toenails need to be filed for I’ve bleeding feet.”
The cold air that Rowena stepped into when she left the cottage was as cold as her heart. What was she thinking? She had been so proud with the man called Midhir “ was he even a man? She had been so filled with insistence that her life was all good. Looking down at her hands, she could see the calluses caused by repeatedly churning the butter. The skin on her fingers was rough and red from milking the cows, and she knew that her face was made dry and bitter by her time spent in the fields. She was but seventeen. What would she look like when she was twenty?
The store was a turf-clad hut that served as a cool place to store their salted meats for the winter. It sat with its belligerent back towards their cottage and squatted neatly into the dip of land caused by the little beck that dribbled off the main stream. She pulled back the hide that covered the doorway and prepared to step into its interior.
“Rowena Ravenclaw, enough is enough.”
Stilled by the second strange voice that day, she allowed the hide to drop back.
“Turn and face me or forever be held in that man’s grasp.”
For once, she did as she was told and was met with a man so fine-looking that she doubted anyone could look long upon his face and survive the experience.
“You are coming with me this night and we will hear no more of marriage and cattle. This is not what you were born to. It was a foolish mistake that you have been birthed here, and to the woman you call mother.”
“My mother died two years ago, my father five.” She spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb the beauty of the man before her.
“That man was a human. He was not your father. You spurned your father today in a manner most inconsiderate. I will not be so easily spurned, young lady.”
“Midhir?”
“Was foolish in thinking he could get away with siring a child beyond the realm and expect it to return willingly. I have spoken to him of this failing many times and still he is optimistic. Now, we have wasted enough time. Your future will not mould itself. Come, woman, let us go.”
Rowena hesitated. The man whose beauty brought heat to the night moved quickly and she screamed as his touch found her. It was as if her hand had been plunged into a fire far hotter than any burning wood could raise. Her vision failed her; her body loosened and fell. Expecting to hit the ground, she soon discovered that her fall had not been broken at all. She fell, and continued to fall, until all sense left her and she slipped beyond the world.
The sun was bright, brighter than it had any right to be, and it spilled into the room abundantly. Rowena was blinded by its power as she opened her eyes to find herself in a world far removed from anything she could have imagined possible. Marble walls surrounded her, reaching up to disappear into what appeared to be the sky, and yet she did not feel as if the room was open to the elements.
Swinging her legs off the bed, she noted that every piece of furniture in the room, from the frame of the bed to the chairs and small table, were of the highest craftsmanship imaginable. Her fingers traced the lines of the carving on the bedposts, dipping in and out of the intricate knotwork. She couldn’t help feeling ridiculously out of place in her dull grey dress and undressed hair. It took her several minutes before she plucked up the courage to reach for the door “ a vast thing that cut a huge swathe out of the grey-veined marble. The handle turned sweetly as she made to open it, the door swinging so lightly it might have been made of air. The corridor appeared to have no end, stretching away from her into whiteness.
“Ah, you have awoken.” A woman appeared from the ether, something that Rowena was beginning to expect with these people. “Go back into your room and you will find fitter clothes than those rags. There are members of the court who would speak with you.”
“Me? Why would anyone want to speak to me?” She found her throat had become hot and dry.
“They have a task for you; has that not been explained to you yet?” Her face was sour, despite her beauty. “The half-wild daughter of Midhir is to perform a service for them. I know not why they have chosen you, with your blood so tainted by that of a human.”
This was the first time Rowena had encountered anything but polite vagueness from these people “ these Sidhe “ and she was rather taken aback by it. It also took a few beats of her heart before she realised that the daughter of Midhir the woman referred to was herself.
“I cannot help my blood. My mother was a good woman and I am as human as she was. It is not a sin to be human.” Rowena was stung to defend herself and her mother.
The woman looked at her, not troubling to disguise her scorn. “It is a sad state of affairs when they choose someone so inadequate for such a task. I have daughters of my own who would be better suited to this.”
“Then why did they not choose them,” Rowena snapped. “Perhaps it is my very human failing that makes me the right choice.” She stopped and shook her head. They were dragging her into their schemes so easily, and she was beginning to grow almost used to the madness about her. “Who exactly are you?”
“I am Fuamhnach, your father’s wife.” The words spat at her like hot fat on a fire. Rowena had meant her question to encompass all of them, but the personal answer made her understand why this woman was so embittered; she was jealous of Rowena’s mother.
“I cannot help what your husband did with my mother anymore than you could. You are wrong to force your jealous heart on me.”
Fuamhnach raised a hand as if to strike at her. Rowena waited for the blow to fall, knowing that at least then she would have a real grievance against them. It was interrupted by the arrival of the man who had brought her here.
“Fuamhnach! Stay your hand and your temper.” He strode towards them, a blood-red cloak flaring behind him. “This is not your home; you are a guest here and you should remember that.”
Rowena found she could not help feasting on his appearance. All of these people wore their beauty well, yet this man wore his carelessly, as if it were something burdensome that he would be rid of. In this bright light his hair was curious; at the roots it was deep and dark, yet it gradually grew to red and finally, gloriously, burst into gold, so that he had the look of a man whose head had been dipped into molten metal. He was of her own height, turning now from the viper Fuamhnach to face her.
“You have been provided with clothes. Please, change yourself and I will escort you to the Great Hall. There is much to be discussed before you go back to the place that was foretold for you.”
“You are returning me to my home?” She searched his face for a flaw and found none there.
“Of course. I think you will be pleased with what you find when you return.”
“I don’t unders””
“These things are not for you to understand. Go and dress.”