Uncovered: The Underhill Series, #2

By Luna Fiore

Never go into Witches End. There is nothing but death and grief in that soil and everything beyond it is not for us.

 

Makenna has never belonged. As a fire witch born in a village of healer and blamed for every fire-related incident even if she wasn't at fault, she has always lived on the outside looking in. When Makenna's sister, Niamh, is horribly burned during a ritual, Makenna is chased into the lifeless woods of Witches End. But the woods are not empty. A plea turns into a bargain and Makenna pledges her nights to a shapeshifter named Fen. But Fen has many secrets and Makenna is plunged into the mystery of the Morrigan and the spell performed hundreds of years ago to seal away a terrible foe. All secrets have a price and Makenna just might pay with her life.

 

Return to Underhill as Makenna uncovers the truth of the goddesses and what it means for her future and the future of Underhill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luna Fiore
• Release date: Jun 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798986069234

Book preview

Uncovered

The Underhill Saga

Luna Fiore

Copyright © 2023 by Luna Fiore

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact [include publisher/author contact info].

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover by CJ Fernandez

1st edition 2023

Contents

Dedication

Image

1. The Choosing

2. Cast Out

3. The Morning After

4. Fen

5. Heritage

6. What They Fear

7. Samhain

8. A Challenge

9. Yule

10. Lost and Found

11. Stranger in the Woods

12. Declarations

13. Manipulative

14. Old Names

15. Ulla

16. Hidden Desire

17. Unspoken Confessions

18. Whisked Away

19. Court of the Witches

20. The Nature of Magic

21. Playing the Game

22. Puppet

23. A Court of Corpses

24. Bound

25. Soft Goodbyes

26. The Truth of the Morrigan

27. Burials

28. The Shadow of Death

29. Loose Threads

30. Maiden and Mother

Epilogue

The Lovers

The Lovers

Acknowledgments

About Author

Also By

To my mother,

This is as much your story as it is mine. Just don't ask me about the sex stuff.

image-placeholder

Chapter 1

The Choosing

Blood welled from the tiny pinprick in her forefinger. Makenna shoved her finger into her mouth, the coppery taste of blood lingering on her tongue, and sighed. This was what happened when last minute preparations were shoved into her lap and she had to rush to complete them all in time even though she had to do them all herself because everyone was far too busy to help.

She rolled her eyes.

They’d had months, nearly a year, to prepare for Niamh’s big day—the day she would step into the ritual fire and wait for the flames to mark her as the Priestess—and yet, on the morning of the ritual, Makenna woke to a dress that needed alterations and a list of baked goods she was charged with making while her mother and Niamh took off to a council meeting for even more preparations.

I see you’ve been abandoned to the work again, Rowan said from the open doorway. He held a basket of dried herbs and held them out to her. Riona sent these over. She told me to remind you to make a satchel and sew them into the fabric.

As if I needed more work, Makenna grumbled.

What else needs done?

I have to finish hemming the skirt, three pies left to bake, two more loaves of bread, measure out the herb blend for the post-ritual tea, draw Niamh’s cleansing bath, and now—she gestured to Rowan—I have to make the satchel and sew it into the robes.

He whistled. Would you like my help?

I would like if my mother stopped assigning me tasks because she wants to keep me from getting underfoot and ruining everything because that’s all I ever do, apparently, she spat.

As long as you’re not bitter, he teased, stepping inside and placing the basket onto the table beside her.

Makenna huffed, setting the bundle of deep green fabric down in her lap and pushed her fiery curls away from her face. I just wish my own family would have my back. I can live with everyone else not trusting me, but that my own mother thinks I would ruin my sister’s big day is upsetting.

Here, Rowan murmured, moving behind her to fix her braid and wrangle the loose hairs. I doubt Riona thinks you would ruin it, but it’s better to keep you away from the council and the elders.

One little prank and they never let me forget it.

You reduced Orla’s herb garden to ash.

It was an accident, she protested.

The bonfire incident five years ago?

I had too much mead and Donnchad dared me.

Elder Ria’s cat? Poor Puff’s tail was completely singed.

That one was not me, I swear it. She slashed her hand through the air. I would never hurt Puff. Or any animal for that matter.

That I believe.

Makenna batted his hands away. I get it. Everything fire related is my fault even when it isn’t. Trust me. I’m never going to forget I’m the only one who can wield fire magic in a village full of green magic. Sometimes I wonder if I was switched at birth.

You were born here, Makenna, just like the rest of us.

Yes, but I’m not like the rest of you. She tossed the dress to the side, annoyed with the throbbing pain in her finger, and walked into the kitchen to get the pies into the oven.

Rowan gently pried a bowl of cut green apples from her hands. That’s not true. In fact, much to your annoyance, we’re all more alike than we like to admit.

Do you ever get tired of being disgustingly optimistic?

He kissed her temple, his soft laugh whispering against her skin, and began to pour the apples into the pie shells. Not if it makes you feel better. He paused. Do you feel better?

Marginally.

Everyone is just on edge. The Choosing is a huge ritual, and the council wants everything to go off without a hitch. They’ll calm down when this is over.

Makenna had grown up with Rowan. Knew him long enough to know when he was lying even if he didn’t know it himself. None in the village—present company excluded—trusted Makenna. Ever since the day she threw a toddler tantrum and set Elder Kian’s curtains on fire. Fire magic didn’t belong in a village of healers. She didn’t belong. Every fire-related incident would rest on her shoulders even if she had nothing to do with it. Only one person made her feel like she wasn’t alone.

I had hoped Alannah would come back, she admitted, scoring the loaf of bread with a knife. I thought for sure she would once she broke her curse.

I’m sure she will, but she’s probably enjoying her newfound freedom.

Makenna sighed, leaning her elbows on the counters and cradled her chin in her hand. Maybe I should do that.

Do what?

Find some freedom. Run off and have an adventure—

Would you really leave? he asked, closing the oven, and turned to face her. Where would you even go?

She shrugged. I don’t know but Underhill is so much bigger than this place. Why shouldn’t I see it?

Rowan squeezed her shoulder none-too-gently. It’s not safe for us out there. The last thing we need is you running afoul of the Fair Folk.

You have so little faith in me, Rowan—

It’s not funny, Makenna. Look at what they did to Alannah’s family. He dropped his hand. I know you’re saying these things because you’re upset, but things will get better—

When? she challenged, annoyed at how quickly he dismissed her. When I settle down with you and have babies and pretend I’m something I’m not?

Rowan took a step back, casting his gaze to the floor. You really know how to wound a person, Makenna.

She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers digging into her skin. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m on edge and I’m just being bitchy.

Not a complete lie, but she knew Rowan held dreams about their relationship that she didn’t. He was sweet and compassionate and always trying to include her, but even if she did have feelings for him that were more than platonic, his mother would never allow him to court her, let alone marry her. And even if his mother did approve, the life he wanted wasn’t the same life Makenna desired.

For years, Makenna had wondered and agonized over her future. Everyone else seemed so content with settling down, sometimes here and sometimes moving to another village to prevent inter-marriage, but she never saw anyone seek out more. Makenna had thought that future inevitable, even for herself.

Then Alannah came.

Alannah had come searching for an end to her curse. Both weary and bright-eyed to all the things she had never seen while trapped in her curse. Followed by companions, human and Fae alike, and newfound friendships on her journey. Alannah had described everything, even the harrowing events, with a sense of wonder, and jealousy had rooted itself in Makenna’s heart. She wanted what Alannah had. She wanted to explore. To run. To travel beyond witch lands instead of withering away in a village that hated her.

I can keep an eye on things here; why don’t you go draw Niamh’s bath, Rowan said instead of instantly forgiving her as he usually did. Riona will throw a fit if it’s not ready by the time they return.

Makenna left him alone, trudging up the stairs to the washroom. She kicked a wooden stool across the floor to reach the small window and prop it open. Cool autumn air, smelling of dying earth and woodsmoke, filtered into the room. Makenna breathed deeply. A fire smoldered in the center of the village waiting for the abundance of rune-carved logs that Rowan would feed to it when the time came.

The Choosing was an old ritual, and one she didn’t understand. Who discovered that stepping into flames somehow made them a priestess? Was it a trial-and-error process? And why did a village full of healers utilize such a ritual?

As a child she had asked such questions, but she never recalled receiving an answer. She didn’t think the elders knew why they did certain things. They just did those things without question.

Her gaze traveled past the benches laden with food and past the smattering of houses that lay between her home and Witches End. Dead trees with limbs like broken fingers reached out. If Makenna closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that their twisted trunks and gnarled roots screamed in agony. Did blood soak the soil as everyone said?

Never go into Witches End, Riona had always said. There is nothing but death and grief in that soil and everything beyond it is not for us.

Makenna never understood why the Fair Folk hated witches so much. They weren’t so different. Both blessed by the magic of Underhill and yet the Fae treated people like her as if they didn’t belong.

Pipes groaned as Makenna filled the wooden tub. Water sloshed against the sides. She used her finger to trace a sigil of her own making to keep the water warm until Niamh arrived. Growing up, the runes and sigils her mother taught were always about gardening or cooking or healing. Makenna had no one to teach her about fire and so she had to resort to making her own sigils over the years. Many she had committed to memory as Riona destroyed any of Makenna’s notes related to fire magic. An action that caused many fights over the years.

Makenna couldn’t understand why her mother fought so hard against Makenna’s nature, but it never succeeded in making Makenna someone else.

I can’t change my nature, mother, no matter how much you wish it! Makenna had shouted once in her early twenties.

Riona’s face had crumpled and her eyebrows had knitted together. A bone-deep sadness entered her eyes that Makenna had never seen before. Riona never fought back about Makenna’s use of fire magic afterwards.

Makenna opened the cabinet above the pedestal sink and reached for the glass bottle that contained the purifying herb blend she had made in preparation for this. Weeks ago, she had clipped the herbs from her mother’s garden and dried them in the still-warm sun. Steam smelling of lavender, sage, rosemary, and lemon balm mixed with the chilled air that crept in from the open window. She arranged the tiny bottles of oils Niamh would anoint herself with after the bath.

No matter how meticulous she was, Riona would still check after Makenna’s work. Makenna didn’t know if Riona thought her incompetent or a saboteur. Others in the village thought Makenna bitter and resentful because, of course, as the younger sister she had to be. They thought of her as hiding in the shadows and waiting for her chance to snatch away the title of Priestess from Niamh’s grasp. Their thoughts proved how little they cared to know Makenna and how much she didn’t want that title.

Or how she hated the thought of ever being beholden to them.

The front door opened and closed, rattling the old wood walls of the house and Makenna stood with a sigh. While she hated the sheer amount of chores they placed on her shoulders, she didn’t hate the quiet. She met her sister’s thundering footsteps on the stairs.

My robes aren’t done? Niamh snapped.

Hello to you too, Makenna said, brushing past her. They’ll be done when you’re done with your bath.

Niamh whirled around, grabbing the banister to keep her balance. Mother! she shouted down the stairs. Makenna didn’t finish the robes.

Makenna rolled her eyes. You have to soak for an hour, Niamh, I’ll have the hemming done by then.

Riona stepped into view on the landing and waved Niamh to her bath. The robes will be done, Niamh, now go.

But—

Riona sighed. Faith and patience, Niamh. You must embody these as you take on this role. She looked at Makenna. Your sister says she will have it done and we must have faith that she will.

Niamh huffed but didn’t argue as she stomped up the stairs.

Riona pinched the bridge of her nose. I will be glad when this day is over.

Makenna plopped down in her chair and pulled the bundle of fabric back in her lap. She would finish the hemming first and then prepare the satchel. Neither of these things would take a long time to do. Thought you couldn’t be happier, Makenna said as Riona sat across from her.

Do not start with me, Makenna. I am far too tired to argue with you.

I’m not arguing, just making conversation Makenna grumbled, pulling the needle through the thread over and over again.

Nearly every conversation is an argument these days.

Not entirely my fault.

Riona opened her mouth but, thankfully, Rowan chose that moment to make himself known by clearing his throat. Pies are cooling and bread is almost done. Is there anything else you need help with?

Riona gave a tired smile. No, thank you, Rowan. You should go home and help your mother, I’m sure she will need it after the council meeting.

Rowan squeezed Makenna’s shoulder and nodded. I’ll see you tonight, then.

Riona waited until the door closed behind him. Rowan has grown into a fine young man.

He has.

He will make a good husband.

He will.

Riona sighed. Caoimhe would be difficult but if you want to marry him—

I don’t.

Does he know that?

Of course he does, Mother. Makenna set aside the finished robes and reached beside the chair to her bag of spare fabrics. She searched for a sheer lavender fabric that would be perfect for the satchel.

I’m not sure he does, Makenna, and it isn’t right lead him on—

I’m not marrying him and he knows that, Makenna snapped. It’s not leading him on if he knows. Why are you even bringing this up now?

I just want you to be happy—

Do you even know what would make me happy? Makenna cut her off, the sheer fabric clutched in her fist. Do you even know me at all?

I—

Mother! Niamh yelled from upstairs.

Riona shook her head and stood up but she hesitated with one foot on the stairs. For a moment, Makenna thought she might say something as her fingers gripped the banister.

You could ask, Makenna whispered. If you asked, I would tell you.

But Riona didn’t ask. She never asked. Riona left Makenna downstairs alone, fighting back tears as she carefully sewed together a satchel of herbs that would protect her sister as she stepped into the ritual fire.

True to her word, Makenna finished sewing the satchel into the robes and left them outside of the door to the washroom. Makenna closed herself in the room she shared with Niamh and stripped out of her loose tunic and leggings to change into her own set of loose-fitting robes. The muddy brown fabric brushed her ankles. She cinched it around her waist with a plain leather belt. While she hated the color, Makenna didn’t complain. She couldn’t do anything to draw attention to herself. This moment wasn’t about her.

Her eyes strayed to her ceramic wand but she left it alone. Instead, she braided her fiery red locks and secured it with a black ribbon.

The door creaked open and Makenna turned to face Niamh. Wet hair clung to her neck and cheeks. Her hands smoothed over her robes, making the green fabric sparkle in the light.

How do I look? Niamh asked.

Beautiful, as always, Makenna murmured.

Niamh didn’t look so sure. For the first time since undertaking her training, she looked nervous. Eyebrows knit together. Fingers fidgeting and grasping at fabric and then smoothing.

I could do your hair, Makenna said, nodding to the vanity.

Niamh carefully tucked her robes under as she perched on the stool and stared at herself in the mirror. Where Makenna favored Riona, Niamh favored their father. Dark brown eyes, a strong nose and jaw, and thick eyebrows. Makenna ran a comb through Niamh’s straight coppery hair. Heat gathered in her fingers and she carefully ran her fingers through, drying Niamh’s tresses.

Up or down? Makenna asked.

Do you remember how you did my hair for Beltane a few years ago?

Of course.

I think that would look best.

Makenna hummed her approval and began to section Niamh’s hair for the three individual braids. The rest of her hair would remain down and untethered. Makenna worked in silence, ignoring the ache in her already overworked fingers.

Do you hate me, Makenna? Niamh asked.

Why would I hate you?

Niamh shrugged. You barely speak to me sometimes. When you look at me…I don’t know, it’s like you don’t care anymore.

Makenna sighed. Am I annoyed you have dropped every chore into my lap? Yes. Do I hate you? No. She pulled Niamh’s hair taut and Niamh winced. We don’t speak anymore because you’re hardly ever here and when you are, you’re so engrossed in something or other that I gave up trying to talk to you.

So, you don’t hate me for taking over Mother’s role when it could have just as easily been you instead?

No, it couldn’t have been, and no, I don’t. Makenna moved on to the second braid. No matter what anyone else thinks, especially the council, I’m not interested in becoming Priestess. I would never want to be in charge of people who openly hate me—

They don’t hate you.

Makenna met Niamh’s gaze in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

Okay, well, they don’t like you, but hate is a strong word.

My point still stands. Makenna pinned the two braids to form a crown and began to weave them into the larger braid that went straight down Niamh’s back. I’m happy for you Niamh. I know what this means to you. I’m just hoping I’ll get some part of my sister back when this night is over.

I thought you were jealous and that’s why, Niamh admitted. I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.

You should’ve, Makenna agreed.

When this is over, we’ll take some time, just us, okay?

Makenna held out her pinky. Promise?

Niamh curled her pinky around Makenna’s. Promise.

Makenna stepped back, dropping her arm down to her side. What do you think?

Niamh stared at herself in the mirror. Thank you. She reached back and carefully patted the braid. I can’t tell if I’m excited or nervous.

Both, I imagine.

Niamh gave a small laugh. Either way, my stomach is in knots.

Just don’t throw up in the fire and you’ll be fine. Makenna patted her on the shoulder. I’m going to start carrying food out, just take a few minutes to yourself.

What if it rejects me? Niamh’s question stopped Makenna from walking out the door. What if I step into the fire and something goes wrong? What if I’m not worthy?

Of course, you’re worthy. Everyone thinks so. Makenna shook her head. And the fire has never rejected anyone before. You’re just nervous.

Niamh swallowed and nodded. You’re right. She waved Makenna away. I’ll be out soon.

Riona was nowhere to be found—probably already outside with the council members—as Makenna pinned her cloak over her shoulders and shoved her boots on. The crisp chill bit her skin through the thick layer of wool, traded from another village a three-week journey away, as she carried out the apple pies and warm, crusty breads.

Every family contributed something to the celebration. Mostly foods, but others contributed the fabrics to make Niamh’s robes, the herbs to sew into satchels and throw into the ritual fire, and even the wood to keep the fire blazing all night. Every contribution mattered no matter how small.

Makenna arranged her baked goods on the table, keeping the breads near the meat and cheeses, while the pies went towards the other desserts. As she reached for a lone snickerdoodle, her stomach growling, a hand came down across her knuckles and she dropped it.

A woman with ashen gray hair pulled back into a braid so severe it tugged at the skin around her temples scowled while Makenna gave her a grin. Evening, Elder Ria.

Elder Ria huffed, her blue eyes narrowing in distrust. You best not make a spectacle tonight, girl.

Makenna bit back the urge to say or what and roll her eyes. I’m not going to ruin the ritual.

Hmph.

Elder Ria! Rowan called, jogging over to save Makenna as he always did. Father is asking to speak to you about the diadem.

It is supposed to be finished by now, Elder Ria grumbled, but she left in the direction of Rowan’s house, leaving Makenna and Rowan alone.

Thanks, Makenna said, pulling her cloak around her shoulders. You know, she used to babysit me as a child. Used to pinch my cheeks and give me candy. It’s amazing how people will turn on you.

How’s Niamh? Rowan asked.

Nervous.

How are you?

Exhausted. Her stomach rumbled again and she snatched the snickerdoodle that Ria had knocked out of her hand. And hungry.

Makenna ducked down behind Rowan’s back and scarfed down the cookie while he chuckled. Luckily for you, the ritual won’t last long and then you can eat to your heart’s content.

You might have to roll me home afterwards, she teased.

We’ll roll home together.

Their laughter tapered off as Riona and the council led Niamh towards the crackling fire. The council approached first, and then Riona walked to the right of Niamh. Rowan gently pushed Makenna forward to stand on Niamh’s left. The others eyed her with barely concealed disdain, but they could say nothing. Makenna was a part of this whether they liked it or not. The village pressed in around them. Makenna looked around at all of the familiar faces. Faces she had known her entire life.

We gather here on this night of Mabon to celebrate the uplifting of one of our own, Elder Ria’s voice lifted and carried over their heads. As we so uplifted the Morrigan many years ago to be our voice, we will uplift Niamh Carnahan, daughter of Riona, daughter of Mairead, as our voice in hardship, our ear in discord, and our tears in grief. She is all of us, the embodiment of our will. Do any deny?

Ria gave Makenna a sharp glance but pursed her lips in begrudging approval as Makenna remained silent. None would deny. If they did, they would’ve brought it up well before now.

Your silence speaks volumes, Ria hummed in approval. As her line of kin have done before, Niamh will serve us well as our Priestess, the mother to us all, but first, –Ria nodded to Riona— we witness the blessing of the mother.

Caoimhe stepped up beside Riona, holding a small jar of black ash. Riona held her hand out for Niamh’s and turned Niamh’s hand palm up. Dipping her finger into the jar, she carefully traced a rune onto Niamh’s palm. Niamh stared down at her palm before smiling and closing her hand so no one else could see. The rune was private. A message between the gifted and giftee. A blessing bestowed by Riona and what she hoped for Niamh’s life.

And the wish of the sister, Ria said, gesturing to Makenna with a warning glare.

Caoimhe walked around and Makenna dipped her finger into the jar to trace a rune of her own onto Niamh’s palm. She had spent weeks wondering what she might give her sister. Wealth. Bounty. Prosperity. None ever seemed enough. For all the times she wanted to pull her sister’s hair out by the roots, she wanted Niamh to have a long, happy life.

Makenna traced the shape she had chosen and stepped back. Niamh stared at the symbol, tears glistening in her eyes as she met Makenna’s gaze.

Blessing.

Whatever Niamh wanted out of her life, Makenna wished it for her.

Ria nodded and stepped away to leave a clear path for Niamh to step through the fire that would burn away the old until Niamh emerged anew and anointed.

Step into the fire so that we might welcome you as our Priestess! Ria commanded.

Niamh closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath. She clenched her trembling hands into fists, putting one foot in front of the other until she reached the edge of the crackling flames. Her eyes met Makenna’s once more before she squeezed her eyes shut and lunged into the flames. The flames snapped around her ankles, singing the hem of the robes. Niamh tipped her head back. Opened her mouth.

And screamed.

Chapter 2

Cast Out

The acrid taste of burnt flesh and hair hit Makenna in the back of the throat and she gagged. Flames roared around Niamh’s ankles, burning through fabric, and licking away scores of Niamh’s flesh. Echoing screams pierced the dead silence. Time slowed. Nearly everyone—Makenna included—froze. Rowan moved first. His father joined