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I thought of my attempted summoning with Goran. “Are you the Givers?”
The sisters scoffed in unison. “How insulting,” the middle one murmured.
“I am Nemain,” the middle one said, “and these are my sisters, Badb and Macha. Together, we’re known as…”
“Wait. I know this one. The Morrigan.” I was about to die in front of the Celtic goddesses of fate. Why hadn’t the Moirai seen this coming? Celts - 1 Greeks - 0.
Nemain smiled. “You know of us.”
“My grandfather thought it was important to educate me on subjects I wouldn’t learn in school.”
“He served you well,” Macha said.
“Why are you here? Or more importantly, why am I here?”
“We have a duty to you, Melinoe,” Badb said.
I flinched. “You know my identity.”
Macha winked. “We know much and more.”
“Why? I’m not one of yours.”
“We swore an oath, and we intend to honor it,” Nemain explained.
“I don’t understand. Melinoe’s origin isn’t Celtic.”
“But Lorelei Clay’s is,” Nemain said. “You were reborn into this world with Celtic roots on both sides of your human family, which allows us to exercise dominion over you.”
“We marked you as ours when you were born,” Macha added, “so that no other pantheon could claim you and exert their influence.”
“Or find you,” Badb said.
I touched my forehead. “The rose is yours.”
“We chose a symbol that reflected your origin,” Badb explained.
I remembered the rose from the throne in the underworld. “Persephone.”
Nemain nodded. “Roses also symbolize secrecy. It seemed only apt.”
Of course. Ancient Greeks even used the term ‘sub rosa,’ which meant under the roses. Hidden. Secret. And Harpocrates received the rose as a gift from the gods for keeping their secrets. Apt, indeed.
My pulse fluttered. “The Fates … the Moirai, when they found me, they added me to their database.”
“Fear not, little rose,” Nemain said. “Those spinsters are too distracted by their modern sewing kits to involve themselves.”
“Involve themselves in what?” My head seemed clearer now, and I realized I no longer felt the pain of my wound. I was either dead or healed. I prayed for the latter.
“Your parents suspected you would retain no memories of the past,” Macha said, “which is why they entrusted us with the information.”
“My parents? I’m sorry. I hit my head on the way down here and I think I have a concussion.” In fact, maybe this entire interaction was nothing more than a dream.
Nemain watched me closely. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, little rose?”
I was more accustomed to hiding knowledge than lacking it. I had to admit, I didn’t enjoy the feeling of being stumped.
The sisters exchanged glances.
