Sìneag, A Prequel Novella, Called by a Highlander

Highland faeries have two rules.

Sineag broke the first when she fell in love with handsome Pictish warrior druid, Brude. It didn’t even matter that he was married to another. Her heart belonged to him…even if he could never love her in return.

But then his wife died, leaving him broken and desolate. Now, Sineag has a choice to make. She can either break the second rule of her people and use her magic to send him back in time to save his beloved…or she can do nothing and keep him for herself.

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was just how much her fateful choice would impact the generations of Highlanders that followed…

Loch Ness, 417 AD

“Sìneag!” cries Eithne, my sister faerie, “Come, come, look!”

I raise my head from the lavender plants I’ve been working my magic over, spraying them with the energy of summer. We dryads help plants and animals that are struggling. Sometimes, we help people. Most of the time, we amuse ourselves by watching them and playing little tricks on them. Secretly, we’re fascinated by them. 

Sitting in the leaves of an oak tree, Eithne watches two riders following the road that runs along what humans call Loch Ness toward the hillfort Urquhart. Green hills surround the loch, which is blue and calm, reflecting the sky above. 

Curious, I dart to sit on the branch by Eithne and stare at them. It’s a man and a woman, talking and laughing. He’s broad-shouldered, his long, dark hair gathered at the nape of his neck with a leather string. An oiled beard that has been recently cut and groomed reaches halfway down his neck. He’s bare-chested, and pale blue patterns play over the hard muscles of his stomach and the biceps of his right arm. 

“He’s handsome,” says Eithne. 

“Aye, he is,” I agree.

Almost painfully handsome, with thick, straight eyebrows over his deep-set black eyes. His features are all linear: straight nose, high cheekbones, and a square jaw that is apparent even under the beard. 

“A mason?” she asks.

He does have the symbol of a hammer on his left arm. But the patterns that circle his right biceps—a combination of crescents, circles, lines and waves—tell me he’s also something else.

“A druid?” I mutter.

My interest is piqued. Though my folk are invisible for regular humans, druids may see us if they can manage a strong enough spell. 

A mason and a druid? ’Tis most unusual, as they are different social classes.

“And a warrior,” Eithne adds. 

Aye, he has a sword in the sheath behind his back and an ax on his waist… 

I feel drawn to him. I canna explain it. What is this pull in my chest? The pit of my stomach warms and tightens. And the way he beams at the woman, with his eyes shining, like she’s the sun and the moon and a fresh morning dew… I dinna like it.

Why? I dinna understand this feeling. I’ve never had anything against humans.

I feel Eithne staring at me, and when I meet her gaze, she studies me in astonishment. “Hide!” she whisper-shouts. “Ye’ll reveal yerself.”

Oh, by the name of the queen! My hand is nae golden and transparent nae more but of flesh and bone. What is this man doing to me? I breathe in and will my body to dissolve with the air again, drawing energy from the trees and stones and lavender that are our home and protection.

With a frown, the man glances right at me and blinks. Does he see me? Did I manage to hide myself in time? I hold my breath as tingles run through my body...