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guess,” Ciatlllait said, “you want to know what I’ve done. I’ve done nothing.”
    “Lies,” Aowyn seethed.
    Ciatlllait shook her head and tsked . “He is simply so elated that we are to be wed. Try as you might, my dear, there are some needs you cannot fulfill.” Ciatlllait paused. Her sly smile crept to the corner of her mouth. “That’s what gets you, isn’t it? You know you cannot win this war. You know he has needs only a woman can fulfill. And it is I who will be queen tomorrow night. I, the usurper. Ooooh,” Ciatlllait winced playfully, “yes.” She sucked in a breath between her teeth. “That’s what gets under your skin.”
    Aowyn yelled and charged at Ciatlllait, taking her down in one fell swoop. She pressed the edge of the dagger to Ciatlllait’s neck. “I know your game and I will not give ground.”
    Ciatlllait choked as the dagger pressed into her skin.
    “We are a family united, you hag,” Aowyn continued, “and we will snuff you out like a candle.”
    Ciatlllait shuddered beneath Aowyn.
    Aowyn pinned Ciatlllait’s arms to the floor with her knees. “Where is he?”
    “I do not know who you speak of,” Ciatlllait whimpered.
    “Where is the one who gave you your power?”
    “Please,” Ciatlllait implored, “spare me.”
    Aowyn dug the dagger into Ciatlllait just enough to draw a drop of blood. “Tell me!”
    Ciatlllait gurgled. “In the bogloch to the east.”
    Aodhagáin groaned in the background. Aowyn looked behind her then back to Ciatlllait. She grabbed the golden locks near the woman’s forehead and yanked so hard that when she released, Ciatlllait’s head hit the floor. She moved to the doorway. She wanted to help the king, but she knew she must make haste. I am sorry, Father .
     
    The bogloch was an awful place. Gnats buzzed around Aowyn. Her skin prickled with warmth and dampness from the heat the peat bogged in. She constantly had to brush back her hair as it grew increasingly frizzy. The water reeked with stagnation. At last she came to a clearing of flat, green earth. Fireflies glowed around her. Reeds and willows swayed. A canopy of mangroves blocked out the light. “I summon thee, Sylas Mortas!”
    The water around the landing gurgled. Bubbles grew frothily larger and larger until a green being in ragged brown trousers emerged. He crouched on the shore. Brackish water dripped off of his amphibious skin. A line of orange-red hair, much brighter than Aowyn’s, ran down the middle of his spotted head not unlike moss on the north side of a tree. Aowyn gaped at his long yellow nails as he crept toward her. She stepped back. The creature took on his full height. He towered as tall as Aodhagáin.
    “You call and I answer,” he said.
    “I have heard tales of you. Stories of your power.”
    Sylas rolled his hand. “Get to it, Aowyn, daughter of Aodhagáin.”
    Aowyn gasped. “You know my name?”
    Sylas bowed politely. “Who does not know your name, Princess?”
    Aowyn squared her shoulders. “Right. I seek your aid.”
    “Tell me everything.” Sylas blinked his two sets of translucent eyelids.
    “A witch has cursed my brothers.”
    “A witch? Tell me of this witch.” His voice lilted.
    Aowyn’s hands closed into fists. “My mother’s handmaiden, Ciatlllait, has struck against my family using spells and dark magic.”
    “Ah, yes,” Sylas said, “I have heard tell of this witch. Stories say she is secretly the ban sídhe, Crwys, possessing that poor, innocent girl.”
    “Poor and innocent she is not.” Aowyn ground her teeth. “I would do anything to stop her and set our world right.”
    Sylas’s mouth curled, revealing his piranha-esque teeth. “Anything?”
    “Anything to end that woman. She said you gave her her powers.”
    Sylas pointed to his bare, chiseled chest. “I?”
    Aowyn’s eyes narrowed.
    Sylas chuckled. “I am but a miserable creature who can grant wishes. How would a woman gain power from…” his voice went up an octave,