The Iron Locket (The Risen King) (11 page)

He waved a hand. "No, it's alright. I can eat it cold."

He smiled at her as she set the plate in front of him and she returned it with a weak smile of her own. But her eyes didn't dance like they usually did when she smiled and he knew the fear had settled back into her heart. After setting a fork and a glass of milk in front of him, she went back to work, silent as the dead of night, and he lost himself in thoughts of how to keep his little world from falling apart.

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TWELVE

*~*~*

"Aiofie, darling, dinner is ready."

Aiofe closed her eyes against her grandmother's voice, her hands pausing as they put her long, shimmering hair into a sleek pony tail. She took a deep breath and focused on inhaling through her nose and breathing out through her mouth, stilling the anger that had been raging inside her all day. It wasn't her grandmother's fault. It wasn't even her grandfather's. She knew that. She had always known that. The world was a different place from when he grew up to be a hunter. She was supposed to have a mother, a father, someone to train her and hunt with her until she married and had her own son or daughter to train up.

But in a cruel twist of fate, her mother had been an only child. No matter how they tried, no matter how much they prayed for a second child, the Callaghans could not conceive again. So Aloysius did the only thing he could. He trained his daughter up to be the best hunter she could be. And the best she was. Right up until she ran astray of the awful, vicious son of their own employer--Titania's son, Kane.

Aiofe's hands shook violently, tugging at her hair. She focused on the pain and yanked at the elastic band harder than necessary. It helped steady her and pulled her back to the present. She snorted in frustration as the elastic snapped and threw the broken black band into the little bowl on the dresser.

Running a hand through her hair, she whispered, "Screw it," and slipped her feet into the slippers under the dresser. They were embroidered moccasins her grandfather had bought her several Christmases ago. Lined with lamb's wool, they were soft and comfortable and kept her feet warm on those cold, wet days. Taking another deep breath, Aiofe pulled open the door to her room and stomped down the stairs.

Her grandmother was in the kitchen, humming a tune Aiofe didn't recognize as she fiddled with the pots and pans on the stove. The table was already set, a sign that her grandmother was trying to make peace. Aiofe's tense posture relaxed a little, despite her best efforts to hold onto her anger.

When her grandmother truly felt sorry, she would never say it in words. She would say it with little gestures, like setting the table when it was typically Aiofe's job or bringing Aiofe a cup of tea as she studied in the library. Aiofe wanted to say thank you, to tell her grandmother it was all okay, but the words tangled into a ball in her chest. Instead, she pulled out her chair and sat down heavily.

Her grandmother turned at the scraping of the wooden legs on the tile floor. "Oh, good evening darling." Her face held a smile, but her voice carried that plaintive questioning tone that asked if everything would be okay between the two of them.

Aiofe forced a smile onto her own face. It felt weird using those muscles. She felt like she hadn't smiled in months. "Hi, gran. What's for dinner?"

"Corned beef and cabbage. Your favorite." Her eyes held a hopeful look as she beamed at Aiofe.

The young woman's fake smile softened, feeling more natural on her face. "Thanks, gran. It smells delicious."

Appeased, her grandmother turned back to the stove, humming once more as she picked up a large, two-tined fork.

"Where is grandad?" Aiofe felt her shoulders tense back up as she mentioned the old man.

Maureen stabbed the fork into the large black pot on the stove and pulled out a huge hunk of boiled corned beef. "He's in the shop," she said as she plunked it down onto a platter, splattering juices onto the counter. "He should be in soon."

Aiofe nodded, slipping into silence while she watched her grandmother spoon cabbage, carrots, and potatoes out of the pot to surround the corned beef. What wouldn't fit on the platter went into a ceramic bowl covered in blue paisley. It was her grandmother's favorite dish. Rumor had it that the bowl was Maureen's great grandmother's great great grandmother's. Aiofe couldn't even begin to guess how many generations that was without getting confused.

The slamming of the door stopped her attempt to figure it out. She dropped her hands into her lap and lowered her eyes to the table, finding the swirled yellow pattern of the table cloth more interesting than her grandfather's entrance. She heard him pause at the door and closed her eyes. He was looking at her, she knew it, she felt it. Aiofe willed herself to open her eyes and look up at him, but by the time she did, he had turned his attention away from her and was walking over to his wife.

"That smells delicious," he said, kissing the old woman on the cheek. "My sweetheart, the best cook in the country."

She giggled and blushed. "Oh, you." She swatted him with the kitchen towel she had picked up to wipe off the drips on the counter, but Aiofe knew she appreciated the comment by the pink tinge on her ears.

The young woman had always admired her grandparents. They were destined to be together from the start. Her grandfather always told Aiofe that he fell in love with her grandmother the very first moment he laid his eyes on her. Though they had been together for fifty years, Aiofe never once doubted their love. They were always kind and gentle with one another, even when they were arguing, and they resolved issues they had with each other very quickly. She longed for a relationship like that, but a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that it was out of the question. There was no one in this world she could imagine trusting that much, not even David McGuire, the object of her fantasies since she was twenty.

Aloysius turned away from his wife, sneaking a slice of carrot off the tray. It earned him another swat as he popped it into his mouth and scooted away. Settling at his seat at the table, he finally looked Aiofe in the eyes. She met them without flinching, focusing on him as she would an enemy. Never look away, never show fear.

He pursed his lips momentarily as if trying to decide what to say, then he lowered his gaze and reached into the pocket of the flannel shirt he wore. He pulled out a small box covered in faded blue velvet and set it on the table in front of Aiofe. Maureen, hearing the clunk of the box, set the fresh bread she had pulled out of the oven on the counter and moved over to stand behind her husband. Her hands went to his shoulders as her eyes settled on her granddaughter.

Aiofe's resolve began to fail and she felt her anger turning into curiosity. Eyeing her grandfather suspiciously, she reached for the box. She slid it off the table and onto her lap before opening it. The hinge was rusted and the box opened hard, but once it snapped apart, she gasped.

Inside lay a beautiful oval locket attached to a chain of hand-crafted links made from the same silver-colored material. She scooped the locket up carefully and examined it. It was larger than most, about the size of silver dollar. A woman's profile was etched onto the cover in astounding detail. She was ageless, carrying a beauty beyond measure, glancing sidelong at the viewer. Despite the woman being inanimate, Aiofe could not help but feel that the image watched her with a knowing look.

The young woman flipped the locket over. On the back was written a simple phrase in delicate handwriting:
To my faithful protector of the world
. Aiofe frowned. What a strange message.

She glanced up at her grandfather. He said nothing, but he nodded slightly, urging her on. She pressed the tiny latch on the side and the locket popped open without a sound. A hand went unbidden to her mouth and she fought back the tears that flooded to her eyes. Unsuccessful in her war against them, the tears broke over the dam of her eyelashes and poured in streams down her cheeks.

On one side of the locket was a picture Aiofe would recognize anywhere. The long copper hair mirrored her own, as did the green eyes and pouting lips. Caena stared out from the locket, sadness heavy on her beautiful face. Aiofe could easily see the rest of the picture the face was taken from. It was in her room, stuck in the side of the mirror on the dresser. Aiofe was but a baby, tucked into her mother's arms, her own shock of red hair standing out in all directions.

The picture was most stunning, not because of the girl's astounding beauty, but due to the differences in their countenances. Aiofe, the child who was not yet a year old, grinned stupidly at the camera, her innocence protecting her from all the hurts the world would throw at her. Caena, just seventeen, stared unseeing into the invisible lens, her thoughts shielded behind an impenetrable wall. Aiofe sniffed and looked away, clearing her throat and blinking rapidly to force the tears from her eyes.

The other image in the locket was a delicately painted portrait of an older woman. She had the same green eyes and round nose as Caena, but her hair was black through and through. She stared out of the frame, her eyes full of knowledge and determination. Aiofe had a feeling that the woman could accomplish anything she put her mind to.

"Who is this," Aiofe asked, raising her eyes to her grandparents.

Her grandfather smiled. "That is Caoimhe, your great, great... well, I have no idea how many greats, but she lived a very long time ago. She was The First."

Aiofe narrowed her eyes at him. She had never been one for his history lessons and he gave up trying to force her to learn about her ancestry early on, unless it was necessary in her teaching as a hunter. "The first hunter was a woman?"

She had heard the stories of the great faery queen coming to the first hunter, enlisting their help to protect the human world from the attacks of rogue faeries. As her mind darted to all the information she could gather in a short time, she realized that she had always assumed the first hunter was a male, but no one had ever actually specified. That person was always referred to as The First, nothing more, nothing less.

Maureen smiled behind her husband as he nodded. "For a very long time, Titania would only trust the task to females. She believes they are stronger mentally, if not always physically. In their world, women are revered and held in greater esteem. She once told me that men are weak and rash in battle, thinking with their swords instead of their brains.” Maureen laughed as Aloysius scowled.

“She only allowed males to join the ranks several generations later,” she continued. “When one of the hunters died on a hunt with her daughter. The daughter had a child, but she was barely three. Luckily for Titania, the woman had also been secretly teaching her sons the ways of the hunter behind the queen's back."

The old woman gave Aiofe a crooked grin. "I'm sure Titania wasn't happy about the situation she was put in, but she wasn't really given much choice, unless she wanted to train someone else to take the woman's place. And after all the time spent to train The First, she surely wasn't keen on that. The boys proved themselves worthy enough, though, and since then, men have been welcomed into the ranks without question, though the women are still granted more respect by the queen."

Aiofe stared at the woman in the painting, trying to memorize her every feature. She could easily see the family resemblance and felt a strange pride swell in her chest knowing she was directly descended from the woman hand-picked by the faery queen to protect the world.

"That locket," Alo said, leaning forward and resting his arm on the table to point at the trinket in Aiofe's hand, "was given to The First's daughter upon Caoimhe's death. The image on the front is Titania herself. It is made of a special iron alloy that makes it virtually indestructible and it is enchanted with protection spells. It's not fool proof, obviously, but it offers the wearer greater alertness, swifter reactions, and slows blood loss a bit. Titania went through great lengths to have it made and great risk to herself to carry it to Deirdre. When she gave it to her, she gave her one rule and one rule only: it must be passed down her line, only to the first daughter of the family, in proper succession. It cannot skip a generation or be passed to the second daughter unless a death has occurred to cause it to be unpassable."

Aiofe frowned and gave her grandfather a dubious look. "That's a bit of a ridiculous rule. What if there are no daughters to pass it to?"

Her grandfather shrugged. "Strangely enough, that has never been an issue in this line. Maybe Titania has a hand in that, though how, I couldn't begin to guess. All I do know is that every family since The First in her direct line of descendents has had a daughter, at least one, and that daughter is always the first born. And only once in that entire time has it had to go to the second daughter after the death of the first through a tragic accident. None of the first daughters has ever been stillborn or fallen ill as children."

"It really is quite remarkable, if you think about it." Maureen's soft voice held a sharp edge of sadness and regret.

Aiofe looked up from the locket, meeting her eyes. "My mother..." Her voice cracked and she couldn't finish her thought.

Maureen smiled weakly. "Your mother would have received the locket and then she would have given it to you in due time. It breaks my heart that she is not here to give it to you herself, but that cannot be helped."