Free The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance by Misc.

had never kissed him.
    Except in his dream.
    He had indulged too much the night before. It was the ale, confounding him, feeding his desire and leading him astray.
    Padraig shoved to his feet, grimacing at the distance he had to walk back to town. His feet were stil sore and his head ached. He made to brush himself down, removing the twigs strewn across his clothes, and realized there was something in his hand.
    It was a stone. The stone was round with a hole in the middle of it. It was the colour of gold. Was this the golden ring he believed the Faerie Queen had given him?
    Padraig smiled at his own foolish dream. He had been in his cups. Stil , a stone of such a shape was unusual. It might be lucky. He was possessed of al of the superstitions of a seafaring man and a few more besides, courtesy of his mother’s upbringing in these hil s and her respect for the fey. If nothing else, it would be an error to cast the gift aside where the donor might witness his rudeness.
    Padraig pushed the stone into his pocket and strode through the damp grass. And as he walked back to his accommodations in Galway, he savoured the memory of Rosamunde’s kiss.
    Even in a dream, it had been a sweet prize and was enough to put a spring in his step.
    But Rosamunde, she had not died
    In truth she breathed still.
    She was a captive of the fey
    And lost beneath the hill.
    Such marvels she did see while there
    Such beauty, wondrous still
    Still Rosamunde did not wish to be
    Captive beneath the hill.
    The spriggan Darg was not a creature Rosamunde was glad to see.
    Solitude was better than the company of this thing.
    That the smal fairy had a red cord knotted around its waist was curious, and surely did not improve the creature’s mood. It hissed and spat, pinching her to wake her up then nipping at her heels to hurry her along.
    “Make haste, make haste, the King is not inclined to wait.”
    “Where are we going? I thought Faerie was like limbo.”
    Darg chattered unintel igibly, as was its tendency when it was annoyed. The creature led her more deeply into the caverns beneath Ravensmuir and Rosamunde was glad to leave her past behind.
    It wasn’t truly the caverns beneath Ravensmuir, though. Those caves and their pathways were wel known to Rosamunde, having been her secret passage to the keep for decades. As a child, she had played in them, learning their labyrinth, delighting in their secret corners. But they were dank and made of grey stone, dark and fil ed with the distant tinkle of running water.
    She did not know the passageways that Darg fol owed. Rosamunde had never spied that entry lit with golden light until the col apse of the cavern and the death of Tynan. She suspected that Darg had opened a portal for her, but knew not where it truly was.
    This cavern could not be fairly cal ed a cave or even a labyrinth. Indeed, Rosamunde did not feel as if she were underground at al . There was bril iant golden sunlight, the light that had spil ed from that unexpected portal. The sky arched high, clear and blue, over verdant fields. The air was fil ed with music and fine singing, and every soul she saw was beautiful.
    It took Rosamunde a while to realize that she only saw nobility. There were aristocrats riding and hunting, borne by finely draped steeds so majestic in stature that the beasts rival ed the famed destriers of Ravensmuir. The women were dressed in silk and samite, their garb of every hue, their long hair flowing over their shoulders or braided into plaits. They wore coronets of flowers, and gems were plentiful on their clothing, even wound into their hair. Many played instruments as they rode. Golden flutes and silver lyres abounded in this strange country. The women’s laughter sounded like music as wel .
    The men were just as wel wrought, tal and slim, muscular. There was a glint of mischief in every eye. Their armour shone as if it was made of silver, their banners were beautiful y embroidered and their steeds gal oped with