Free A Love Soul Deep by Amber Scott Page B

magick this grove held, a fairy would be the best to see true. All things secret, Heremon promised, would reveal themselves in time. With less than two years remaining in her tutelage, she couldn’t see why all the things she worked for still failed to happen.
    “We have much work to do,” Heremon said and joined her on the mossy forest floor. “I have received the prophecy and we must prepare. A stranger will join us, become one of us.”
    His pale eyes bounced as he spoke. Was he still in a trance? Her cleared head flooded with unease.
    Breanne watched and waited for him to continue. Her stomach tightened up with the same sick feeling from before when she had listened in shadows to Niall O’Donnell’s words. A husband will protect her.
    She would protect herself.
    “He is yours to keep,” Heremon said. “See the emeralds, know the key.”
    Breanne’s mind halted. Her heart skipped. She knew better than to read the literal into any vision’s meaning, but several ideas formed in her head unbidden. Surely, his words could not be linked to Niall’s.
    Heremon had assured her that once she began seeing, she would better understand the nature of second sight and that it in fact made the future less clear than before. But, how could foreknowledge not help in life? She hoped to soon know the truth for herself.
    “Tell no one.” Heremon’s hands shot out, clenched her knees. She moved back, startled. His eyes danced, looking through her. “Protect him.”
    Another presage, or did the first continue? Protect what? It would be pointless to ask as he would not recall his words. He never did. By the look of his eyes, it wouldn’t be long. The cloudiness in them receded, the shaking slowed. Within a moment, Heremon’s irises returned to dark green and focused on her face, adjusting to the light.
    “Breanne.” He blinked at her with surprise. “When did you arrive?” He let go of her knees as though they’d not been touched at all.
“But a moment ago. You greeted me, Heremon. Do you not remember?”
He looked past her and tilted his head as though listening to the wind.
“The storm last night,” he said.
“Yes, it has passed already. The sun shines clear with not a single cloud.”
He looked back at her, his forehead wrinkled with trouble. “I’ve promised you a lesson, haven’t I?”
    Not again. She nodded patiently. His graying red beard was a tangled unkempt mess and helped distract from the fraying, torn blue cloak he preferred. Distraction seemed his nature of late and still he had managed to become the wisest, oldest Druid priest in all of Ireland, well, leastwise the north of it.
    “We are scheduled to review my Grimoire, my most recent attempt to free Finn, and you were to give me five new herbals.” She left out her least favorite, gathering, hoping he’d forget, and refused to feel bad for taking advantage of his daze.
    “Yes, yes. We haven’t much time, though.” His voice faded with each word. “We will meet again tonight at the spring. The moon is waxing to fullness. The end of it nears.”
Breanne scowled, not only because he seemed about to cut their lesson short, but because his words weren’t making much sense.
“The end of the moon? Not near at all, Heremon. For if the lunar cycle has a fortnight to wane….”
“What’s this? Are you still here, then? Off with you. We mustn’t tarry.” He shooed her with his hands, standing briskly.
    Breanne’s frown deepened. Heremon was truly out of sorts. With last night’s failed experiment and a week since the last lesson, which she was hardly able to sneak away for with of all her mother’s nuptial arrangements, she couldn’t help feeling keenly disappointed.
    She stood, ready to argue for at least an hour of his time. She needed it. With all the husband discussion and wedding plans and changing friendships in her life, the one thing that kept her levelheaded was her Ovate training.
    Breanne took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.