She shivered once, then shoved her hands through her hair. “That was… a lot. I’m sorry, I don’t want to—”
She broke off when Keegan simply held up a hand in a signal to stop. “We’ll make it so. Mahon, we’ll need faeries to work on the trees, fruit trees, and a mason to build the pool, witches to fill it. Send an elf up, if you would, with a copper cauldron. Once you have, gohome to your wife and children. If I stop in the valley before you do, I’ll have Aisling kicking my balls, and I’d as soon avoid it.”
“Happy to oblige you. Will I see you there soon?”
“By morning if not sooner.”
Mahon turned to Breen, kissed her cheek. “I don’t see what you do, but I look forward to when I do.”
After he flew off, Breen clasped her hands together. “Keegan, if I overstepped—”
“Did I say you did? I’m saying you’ve the right of it, so we’ll put it right.”
“But this is what you wanted, what you saw.”
He studied the dolmen, the stark white stones. Aye, he thought, this he’d seen and no more.
“I saw through grief and anger. The stones stand, for I was right to have them raised here. But it’s not enough, and there you’ve the right of it. Without hope, grief loses the strength to live on, and fight on, and hold.
“The faeries will bring the trees, and we’ll have the pool, and you and I will make the fire eternal.”
“I’ve never— I’m not sure I know how.”
“You do, you will. It’s your vision, after all. Even in the dark, there’ll be light. We’ll hold to that.”
When the boy brought the caldron, big and bright so it gleamed in the sunlight, Keegan sent it into the air, higher and higher until it rested in the center of the capstone.
“Well done,” he said to the boy. “You chose well.”
“Mahon said big.” The boy grinned. “May I watch, Taoiseach?”
“Of course.” Then Keegan looked out and down. “Wait. Run down and tell all to watch. To watch while the taoiseach and the Daughter of the Fey light the fire eternal in this place of remembrance.”
The boy let out a whoop and blurred away.
“Great. Now I’ll have an audience.”
“Breen Siobhan,” Keegan said, impatience shimmering, “you worry yourself about the small. You came to be seen, and had the right of it. Now you will be. And those who witness this will not forget. Thosewho witness this will tell children yet to be born of it. And all who come here will remember we stood, taoiseach and Daughter of the Fey, for the brave, for the innocent, and for all. We stood, as they did, against the dark. And we brought the light.”
“You’re good at this,” she murmured. “Sometimes I forget how good you are at this. Being taoiseach.”
“It’s only sense.”
“No, it’s leadership.” She smiled as Bollocks, as if he knew, came running back up the hill. “Besides, if I screw this up, I’ll blame you.”
People gathered below. She saw them coming out of shops and cottages, pausing their work to look up. Couples and families who’d strolled the beach or splashed in the waves stood now, watching. Mers floated on the endless blue or slid sinuously onto rocks.
Men boosted young ones on their shoulders; women balanced babes on their hips. In her mind, Breen could hear them:
Watch now, watch. And remember.
“Take my hand,” Keegan ordered. “Your nerves are wasted, Daughter of Eian O’Ceallaigh. Let it rise now, let it come. Say the words. The words are in you.”
They were, of course they were. She felt the power pulse from him to her, from her to him. Merged, joined, doubled. And the words came.
“This power, old as breath, we call to honor life and death. A spark to flame, a flame to fire, to burn and blaze and so inspire. We owe a debt we will not forget.”
“Here light,” Keegan continued, “burn bright through day and night. Eternal to rise into the skies. No flood, no wind will dim the flame kindled here to honor their name.”