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kiss of the sun on her face. To hear the
morning songs of sparrows, the crying of gulls
over the sea. The sea—that, too, was foreign
to her. An endless sprawl of water, with its
own moods and hidden depths. All they had in
her lands were shallow, murky lakes and half-
dried streams. So while her husband and his
two brothers were off waging yet another war,
she began to ponder how she might find a way
into one of those worlds. How she might
leave.”
“Is such a thing even possible?” Something
nagged at her, as if it might indeed be true,
but perhaps that was one of her own mother’s
tales, or even Marion’s, tugging on her
memory.
Maeve nodded. “It was. Using the very
language of existence itself, doors might be
opened, however briefly, between worlds. It
was forbidden, outlawed long before her