Sophie Oak - Beauty

Beck’s arms crossed over his chest, his eyes settling into a worried stare. “Does that mean he’s gone for good?”

Lach sat up straight. He hadn’t even thought about it. He’d been too busy holding Bronwyn and reveling in the feel of her against his heart. “He was a sluagh. He might have faded, but he’s still here. It will just take him a long time to gather enough energy to appear before us again. But he’ll stay here most likely. He tied himself to this place. Becoming a sluagh was a choice for him.”

Cian’s voice grew tight. “Can he choose again?”

Lach stopped, his brain wrapping around the idea. What had Duffy said? Death was a doorway. Death was nothing to be afraid of. What if Lach’s power was more than pulling corpses from the ground and playing the puppetmaster? What if his power could have meaning and true purpose?

Death was a doorway, and Lachlan McIver intended to open it.

Bronwyn was suddenly at his side, Queen Meg with her. “What’s going on? I felt Lach’s power stir.”

Shim took her hand. “He’s going to try something. Help us. He needs a bit of my power, too.”

Beck Finn put a hand on his shoulder. “Bron, take some of mine.”

“Mine, too,” Cian said, laying his hand on Lach. “Funnel it to Lachlan.”

Fire and earth and the storms above. And a doorway.

Lach let the power flow and reached out. Nothing was ever truly lost and Seamus Finn, King of Seelie Fae, was no exception.

Ashes and dust. That’s what his body was, but Lach found them and drew them to him forming a pile of what had made the man. Lach breathed his own unique power into it.

Seamus Finn stood, a ghostly apparition, but quite solid for a shade. He looked startled to be seen. “Beck? Ci?”

They moved away from Lach, toward their long-dead father.

“Father, Torin is gone.” Beck seemed solemn, as though reporting to a superior, not a son to his father. Cian simply stared.

Seamus shook his head. “He doesn’t matter, son. You do. You and Cian and your sister. Oh, Death Lord, I cannot thank you enough for this chance. I feared I had given it up to spare your sister. Beckett, I was a fool. You are a good man with a good soul and those needs of yours aren’t wrong. I had them, too, and my father beat them out of me. I pray I’m not too late to change that for you. There was a piece of me that was empty because I didn’t follow my heart.”

Meg smiled broadly. “I fixed him, Your Majesty. Trust me, he’s perfectly fine with all those needs now.”

Seamus smiled at her, reaching out a hand that couldn’t touch her. “Sweet Queen. Take care of my boys. Cian, I am so sorry. I didn’t understand you. I loved you, but I didn’t know how to handle you. Can you forgive me?”

Cian clutched his wife’s hand. “Yes, father.”

“I love you, Ci. My time is short. I feel the pull. I love you, my children. This kingdom is yours. Rule with wisdom and love and grace.” He stopped and looked at Lachlan. “What is that, Death Lord? I see a light.”

A deep sense of peace swept over Lachlan. This. This was his power. This was his calling. All of his life he’d hated the cold, dead power, but he’d been wrong. His power was about life. His power was a service to his people and all living creatures were his people. “It’s the after. It’s your time.”

“But I chose. I became a sluagh.” The words were a staccato protestation, but hope was dawning on his face.

“Choose again, Your Majesty.”

Seamus turned, looking at something only he could see. “My wife. She’s here. She waited. I didn’t deserve any of this, but I will take it with a grateful heart. Good-bye, my loves.”

Seamus shimmered for a second and was gone, his choice made.

Shim gave him a broad smile. “You did good, brother.”

Bron did one better. She threw herself into his arms. “Thank you. Thank you, husband.”

Lach wrapped her in his arms, his other half clinging to her back. He was a man with half a soul, but she’d completed him.

Death was nothing to be afraid of. Not when he was so loved.

Once upon a time, in a land closer than you would think…

Megan Finn, the queen of the Seelie Fae, loved to watch her children play along the river. There were three, each a gorgeous handful, and though she’d bemoaned the lack of drugs that had been her birthright on the Earth plane, she wouldn’t have had them anywhere else.

Tir na nÓg was her heaven.

Meg waved from the balcony to her husbands, who were teaching their children to fish. Their daughter, it turned out, was by far the best fisherman of the day. She hauled in her trout, beaming up at her fathers and sticking that bratty tongue out at her brothers.

Soon they would travel to the Dark Palace for their annual celebrations—a renewal of their close ties to the Unseelie. She looked forward to seeing her sweet sister-in-law and their two boys. She hoped Dante and Kaja would come home from their travels long enough to join in the festivities.

Meg waved again and then turned to look over her kingdom.

She’d been born so far away, and yet she seldom thought of that place anymore. This was home. She’d fought for it and grown for it. She’d become a woman here. This was where she’d loved and lost and found herself anew.

Meg turned her face up, letting the sun shine down.

This was where she found those three elusive words.

Happily Ever After.

THE END