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answer.”
    The demons continued to dance on the wall. Ciatlllait circled the being. “Our plan is working, Sylas. Soon we will be the king and queen of the Summer Isle.”
    “Yesssss,” Sylas hissed.
    Ciatlllait stopped before him and yanked back his hood. Sallow, spotted, green skin framed a gaunt face adorned by long, pointed ears. A blaze of orange-red hair stretched down the middle of his scalp from widow’s peak to nape. He regarded Ciatlllait with almond-shaped, glossy black, pupil-less eyes.
    Ciatlllait extended a finger and tugged it along the line of Sylas’s clammy, angular jaw.
    Sylas lacked lips, but the skin above his teeth peeled back with pleasure, revealing razor-edged teeth.
    Ciatlllait pressed herself against him.
    Sylas slid his webbed hands down the curve of Ciatlllait’s waist. He dug his nails into her hips. Ciatlllait ran her tongue over his skin and nipped at his earlobe.
    “What do you desire, my queen?” Sylas uttered.
    “I wish for a way to end Aowyn, the last heir to Aodhagáin’s throne.”
    Sylas bent his head to Ciatlllait’s neck. He took in her smell with a growl. “How shall we lure her?”
    “A spell.”
    “I am listening.”
    “We will cast it on Aodhagáin. We will let Aowyn see. It should be a spell to control and slowly kill him.” Ciatlllait purred as her form melded to Sylas. “I will send her to you. You will set your trap.” She pulled Sylas closer until his teeth grazed the curve where her neck met her shoulder. “We will eliminate the girl and her brothers once and for all.”
    Ciatlllait’s hand wandered low on Sylas and teased him before pushing him toward the dancing shadows. She took a few steps back and grasped the pedestals of the braziers. Her cloak slid from her bare shoulders. She licked her lips as the orange light washed over her. “Now, the spell. Tell me its name.”
     
    Bealtaine advanced swiftly much to Aowyn’s dismay, and nothing she did or said could sway Aodhagáin to change his mind. On the last night of Aibreán, the eve of Cétamain, when Bealtaine began, Aowyn followed Ciatlllait in secret. If the witch planned something, perhaps Aowyn could stop it. She carried a dagger in her belt. If it came to blows, Aowyn would be ready.
    She crept far behind Ciatlllait, keeping close to nook and door. Ciatlllait carried herself with a confident air that would rival the Greek hero Narcissus. Aowyn watched her go into a secluded room and hid close enough to spy. Two braziers hugged a basin of silver liquid. Aowyn’s breath caught when she heard her father’s voice.
    “You wanted to see me, my dear?”
    Ciatlllait circled the king with her finger pinned to his shoulder. Aodhagáin turned with an intrigued smile.
    “Yes, my love,” Ciatlllait said huskily, “I wanted to do something special before we are wed.”
    Aodhagáin’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “And what might that be?” He licked his lips with anticipation.
    Ciatlllait cozied up to him coquettishly. “I don’t want to be just your greenwood wife at Bealtaine. I want to be your queen.”
    Aodhagáin fumbled for words as Ciatlllait purred against him. “Of course you will be my queen.”
    Ciatlllait clutched Aodhagáin’s beard and pulled his head to hers. “Prove it.” She sealed her mouth to his.
    Aowyn clutched her dagger, enraged. She wanted to rush in and stop it all from happening.
    Aodhagáin broke away from the kiss and reeled. He stumbled to and fro until he collapsed. Ciatlllait loomed over him.
    Aowyn could stand it no longer and burst into the room. “A queen protects the king!”
    Ciatlllait turned calmly, pressing her palms together until her forefingers formed a point.
    Aowyn knelt by her father’s side and stared into his face. He gaped at the ceiling vacantly. “Father? Father! It’s me, your Wynnie.”
    The stillness of the room, save for the crackling of the flames in the braziers, registered with Aowyn. She turned and glared at Ciatlllait.
    “Let me