Lady Alainn, yer actin’ altogether peculiar… even for you.

So, we are searching for some form of difficult, uncooperative creature that apparently can change shapes and does not wish to be found?

How do magical beings celebrate?” Killian was curious to know. “Music, food, wine, ale, dancing, frivolity, and merriment in many forms.” Lugh grinned again. “So entirely the same as in the human realm?” Killian smiled back at the god. “Well, with a bit of magic thrown in for good measure.

The sun might not rise one day and leave the world in perpetual darkness. The moon might fall to the sea and send an endless tide that floods the earth, or I might simply slip in sheep dung and break my neck! How will Danhoul prevent any of that?

Tis just you and me, all alone.” She smiled suggestively. “And there is an inn here before us,” Killian noted. “Just a few steps to the doorway.” She smiled. “They surely have beds.” He grinned.

Always life would bring with it joy and sorrow combined. To allow herself to love and to love well, she opened her heart to loss, but to live without love would truly be no life at all. Alainn was well aware with any great love there would be great loss. It was both the cost and the reward of loving.

That would have killed Shylie to watch you die!” Alainn whispered. “She’s quite dead, even now!” Killian suggested not with callous intent but merely stating the fact of the situation.

Killian O’Brien, would I truly do anything to damage your diddler after I’ve only just healed it?

Killian, have I nearly killed you?” she whispered as she lay beside him and her lips kissed his ear. “No, but when I do die, I would ask that you make certain it is you who takes my life in just such a manner,” he said in a breathless fashion.