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a thing happening before.  Coincidences kept throwing themselves at his feet and he was starting to take notice.  But instead of providing answers they just created more questions.  Eventually she did find her way to the point of the tale and the one thing that Duncan learned from the long drawn out tale was that Fiona was fiercely loyal.
    “Then,” Fiona said resting a pudgy hand on his thigh to make sure she still had his attention.  “A deep powerful voice spoke to me.  In the dream he spoke of the bhanphriosa.  I was ta wake up and set the house right.”
    Duncan leaned forward, questions filled his mouth but he forced himself to stay quiet.  Even Knackers seemed to be paying more attention.
    “Well, course I did as I was told.  I ‘ad slept too long and me bones ached.  But I scrubbed and polished that ‘ouse till it shone,” she said with a proud nod.  “I was honored, I was.  Me carin’ for royalty,” she said placing a shocked hand at her chest.  “But when she shows, she had the mortal look to ‘er.  I can see ‘er but ‘er eyes be blind ta me,” she said with a pitiful wail.  Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks.  Duncan and Knackers glanced quickly at each other, neither sure what to do, and neither very comfortable around a crying woman.
    Fiona reached into her clean white apron pocket and pulled out her lacy handkerchief.  She dabbed her watery eyes as Duncan attempted a comforting pat on her broad shoulders.
    “I be alright,” she said waving her tear stained handkerchief at him.  She smiled gratefully at him and rested her hand on top of his, and all at once became serious again.  “It’s no’ right to enchant royalty, especially one so sweet and kind.  Only strong, malevolent magick could do that to the life spark.”
    Duncan sat back, pulling away from Fiona.  “What makes you so sure she is the life spark?” he asked.
    “I may be old but I’m no’ daft.  There is no’ one of the Otherworld, and mayhap a few wise mortals, who ‘ave no’ heard your tale Duncan,” she said with a hint of frustration.  “Sides, any and every Fae would recognize her enchanted or no’,” she stated emphatically as she crossed her chubby arms across her ample bosom.  “And,” she added squinting at him.  “Why else would you be here?”
    Knackers chuckled softly but when Fiona’s angry glare shot his way he raised his hands in a sign of surrender.  Duncan stood quietly and walked to the window.  He gazed down at Annie’s small garden.  It was still early June and Annie’s garden was thriving with life.  His eyes wandered over the budding flowers, the thick green grass, spring flowers which should be well past their prime still stood strong and filled with life.  Midsummer flowers which should not bud for weeks were just beginning to bloom fully.  Even the meadowsweet she had planted earlier in the day seemed to have grown.
    He sighed deeply.  Fiona was right, any Fae who met Annie would know who she was instantly, enchanted or not.  “Why send me then?” he whispered quietly to himself.
    “What?”  Both Knackers and Fiona asked together.  Duncan glanced at both of them but directed his words to Fiona.  Knackers was questioning not what he said but rather why he had said it.  At the moment Duncan was not willing to explain anything to Knackers.
    “I have one very important question for you and think hard on the answer,” he commanded quietly.  “Who was it that dream-spoke to you?”
    Fiona leapt off the chair, puffed out her chest and stood proudly before him.  “Tis no need to think on it.  ‘E told me his name himself.  Twas none other than her father; the Son of Lir,” she said with a curt nod.
    Duncan closed his eyes and Knackers let out a horrified gasp.  Rage boiled within Duncan.  His chest constricted as a deep sense of betrayal squeezed his lungs.  He stood statue still for what felt like hours while he battled for control