Child of the Prophecy (49 page)

"I see." He had surprised me. Such was his hatred, I had assumed it would spill over onto everyone connected with the Painted Man. I wondered, again, just what sort of man this Johnny was, that they all had such faith in him. "You think, then, that if his father dies, he will lead the allies into battle?"

Eamonn scowled. "In any event, he will lead. The prophecy makes that clear. As to his father's role, that has been kept from me. Allies we may be, but Sean gives out only as much as suits him, and that riles me. I cannot judge whether the loss of the Painted Man will affect the campaign or not. Nor do I care, for I must confess to you the one far outweighs the other in my mind. I want you to show me, Fainne. Show me you can do as you say." Now his voice was shaking with eagerness. "Show me you can change."

"Ah, no. I will not do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's fraught with danger, Eamonn. It depletes the craft; afterward, one is drained and exhausted. Such high powers are not to be used lightly, as a mere demonstration. Believe me, I can do it, and when the time comes I will."

"I can scarce comprehend this," he muttered, and I could see his mind was turning over the tantalizing possibilities I had held out before him. "With this, I can have him before the summer is over. I can know his very thoughts, be privy to his darkest secrets. With this, surely my quest cannot fail, and the man must perish at my own hand. Are you sure, Fainne? Are you certain you can do this for me?"

"Oh, yes," I said calmly. "There's no doubt that I can. But there's a price, Eamonn. You are not the only one with a vision and a goal."

"What price?" I could hear the excitement in his voice; at that moment I could have asked for almost anything.

"I told you before," I said. "The scales, the balance. You accept one side, you accept the other. If we are to be partners in this, then we are partners in all things. I perform your will, I gather the intelligence you seek. I share your hearth and your bed. You will find that there, too, I can work magic. I bear your children and you give me your name. I need that security. I need respectability, a home, a place where I can belong. Without that, I will not do it. For if you kill this ally, and my uncle's campaign is lost, my only future lies with you."

There was a deathly silence, interrupted only by the small crackings and poppings of the fire and, outside, the hooting of an owl. I waited for him to tell me that he would not wed a woman with tainted blood, despite all. If he said that, I might not be able to retain control; to remain calm. Magical powers do not arm one against that kind of hurt.

"Fainne?" he said quietly. He was looking into the flames, and I could not see his expression.

"Yes?" Curse it, my voice had gone wobbly, as if I were about to weep. I had been foolish to have so much wine. Control was everything.

"Come here. Come closer."

I got up and moved to kneel before him, so that the firelight would shine on my hair and warm my pale skin to a rosy glow. I looked into his eyes, schooling my expression to an innocent hope, fresh, guileless.

"You swear that you are telling the truth? That you can do this and succeed?"

"I swear it, Eamonn." I toyed with the idea of casting just one more spell; like an opposite of the charm I had used on him in an awkward moment, up by the waterfall. But I saw the expression in his eyes and knew I needed no such aids. There was desire in his look, but it was more than that. It was the look of a man so eaten up by hatred that he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted; a look that told me, while his bodily lusts might need attending to from time to time, the only thing that really excited him was the thought of his enemy's neck under his hands, and the sound of the last breath being slowly squeezed from his body.

"Touch me, Fainne," he whispered, and I heard the same excitement in his voice, edgy, dangerous. "Let me taste your lips; let me taste my vengeance there."

There was a very strong wish in me to spit in his face, for it seemed to me the man did not see me as a real woman at all, but merely some tool to be used toward his own dark purpose. Anger and self-disgust rose in me; I suppressed both. Control, said Grandmother's voice. Don't lose it now, at the end,. Do as he bids you. You said you would be a good, wife, didn't you? Show him how good. Make him want you.

"You did say—" I murmured.

"Just a kiss, just one," Eamonn said softly, and he took me into his arms and pressed his lips against my neck, and my cheek, and because there was no choice, I let him kiss me on the lips. That was the hardest moment of all; pretending to him that I was willing, winding my arms around his neck, opening my mouth so that he could probe deeper with his tongue, feeling his hands on my body and knowing all the time that there was no honesty at all about it. I was filled with a cold distaste even as I gasped with simulated pleasure and moved my body against his own. As for Eamonn, he wanted me, I could feel that, but I did not fool myself that my charms had anything at all to do with it. He had proved, tonight, that it was the thought of vengeance that brought him alive. Interesting, I thought as his hand began to move against my leg, to think what might come later. I could not imagine myself as this man's wife. If it ever came to that, I had the tools to punish him for his arrogance. But it would never happen. Whatever occurred, there was no future for me after the summer. I had asked for marriage only to make my offer of magical help more convincing, for it was hardly plausible that I would make such a gesture out of the goodness of my heart. Perhaps, also, I had done it to salvage some sense of pride. His hands were wandering somewhat further than they might. Maybe he had misunderstood my meaning.

"Eamonn ..." I gasped. "You promised . . ."

"Just once," he muttered. "Just once, Fainne. You'll enjoy it, I'll make sure of that. Just tonight. Then I'll wait. . . don't say no to me . . ."

He was quite strong; strong enough to deny me any chance of escape without using the craft, and I could hardly try that trick again. I did not wish to annoy him, for after all he had not yet said yes, not in so many words. Besides, I could not speak the words of a spell while he had his tongue in my mouth, and he seemed in no particular hurry to remove it.

I heard the small sound before he did. It was no more than a creak, a rustle, as the door was opened and someone came to a sudden halt on the threshold. Eamonn withdrew his lips from mine and his hands from my body. He drew breath, ready to reprimand whatever serving man had dared to intrude where he had no business. He looked toward the doorway. There was a stunned silence.

"I've come to take my daughters home." The voice was my uncle Sean's, and chilly as a dawn frost at Samhain. "And not a moment too soon, it appears."

I turned around slowly, feeling a hot blush rise to my cheeks, despite my efforts at control. My uncle was dressed in riding clothes, and the look in his eyes was as wintry as his voice.

Behind me Eamonn took another careful breath, and I felt his hands as they settled on my shoulders in a gesture which, it seemed to me, indicated ownership.

"Sean. You surprised us," he said with commendable smoothness. "Fainne has done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife."

If I had read shock and distaste on Sean's face before, it was nothing to the way he looked now. He took two very deliberate steps into the room, without speaking, and the set of his mouth was very grim indeed. And then I winced with pain as Eamonn's grip tightened convulsively on my shoulders, and his body froze.

My uncle had not come alone. Behind him in the doorway stood a woman, previously masked from view, for she was a small, slight thing who came barely to Sean's shoulder. For a moment I thought it was Muirrin; and then I looked again. This woman had the same dark curling hair as my cousin, fastened up neatly in a coil of plaits, with wayward tendrils escaping around her delicate features. She had the same fey green eyes and tiny, slender form. But Muirrin had not such a sweetly curving mouth, a mouth a man might think made for kissing. And Muirrin had no such air of authority, for this woman was considerably older, and as she stepped into the room, untying the fastenings of her hooded cloak, she seemed as formidable as my uncle himself, a woman who would command instant obedience from all, without even needing to ask. As an enemy she would be daunting. I had no doubt at all that this was my mother's only sister, my aunt Liadan.

"I—I—" Eamonn, who had handled my uncle's unexpected appearance with surprising aplomb, seemed now completely lost for words.

"A cold night for riding," I observed, and I put one hand over Eamonn's for a moment, then moved away from him as he relaxed his grip. "You'd welcome a goblet of wine, I expect?"

"Thank you." Liadan appeared to be capable of speech, if the two men were not. She moved forward, discarding her cloak on a bench to reveal a gown and overtunic of extremely plain cut, the one a dark gray, the other a lighter shade, with a hint of violet in it. For all the severity of her appearance, her voice was warm, and her wide green eyes surveyed me tranquilly enough. I poured the wine and passed her a goblet, keeping my hands steady.

"We didn't expect you," I said.

Liadan glanced at Eamonn, and back at me. Her mouth tightened. "Indeed. I will not apologize, for it seems to me our arrival was impeccably timed. We plan to take you and the girls home

tomorrow morning. Maeve is somewhat improved, and fretting for her sisters."

"I_ I'm glad she's better," I said. I forced myself to go on. "What of the man who was burned, the young druid?"

"I was able to ease his pain a little. But not even a young, strong man recovers from such injuries. I explained this to him. Conor took him back to the forest."

"I'm sorry." My voice cracked, and her gaze sharpened. The two men had neither moved nor spoken. The air in the dimly lit room was alive with tension. Then there were rapidly approaching footsteps, and Eamonn's serving man was at the door, fastening his shirt, smoothing his rumpled hair, full of apologies. Eamonn gave quick instructions. Food to be prepared, sleeping quarters got ready immediately, horses stabled and cared for.

"It appears we have matters to discuss." Sean moved at last, but only to fold his arms and frown. "Matters that cannot wait for tomorrow. I want the girls out of here as early as they can pack and be ready."

"There's no need for such haste, surely." I had come to know Eamonn well enough to hear the deep unease in his voice, and to see how carefully he was not looking at my aunt as she settled herself on a bench, straight-backed, managing somehow to look like a princess in her plain gown.

"I've no intention of staying here beyond one night," said Liadan coolly. "It's time the girls went home. As for what you spoke of, it is quite out of the question. In the light of day, upon a little reflection, even you will see that, Eamonn."

"I think not. The match appears to me quite suitable, and I'm confident that Aisling will agree. My sister has been urging me to wed for so many years I grow weary of it. And you are unlikely to see your niece so advantageously matched elsewhere, I think."

"It's not possible," said Sean heavily. "For reasons best not discussed here."

"If you refer to Fainne's parentage, I know of it, she has told me herself, quite bravely. I think, if we are to debate this tonight, we should excuse her first. Fainne has been unwell, and is very tired. These matters are best settled between men."

I saw my aunt Liadan's mouth quirk up at the corner, but her eyes were deadly serious. She looked at her brother, and he looked back at her, and I was reminded that Sean was Liadan's twin. I was reminded of what Clodagh had told me; that messages flew between them in silence, no matter what the distance. From the dark, shadowy forest of Sevenwaters to the impenetrable secrecy of Inis Eala or over the sea to Harrowfield, messages of the mind, straight as an arrow and swifter than the fleetest deer.

"For once I find myself in agreement with you, Eamonn." Liadan rose to her feet, yawning. "We can spare Fainne the details, surely; and as for myself, I am quite weary, and have need of nothing but a warm place to sleep. I will see that our escort is settled, and then retire. Believe me, I have no wish to remain here one moment longer than I must. Come, Fainne. Shall we go?"

As the two of us made our way out of the chamber, leaving the men in a charged silence, I looked back at Eamonn over my shoulder. His expression was a wondrous blend, where the agony of hopeless love warred with a vindictive hatred nurtured through long years of frustration. I had been right before. It was on her his eyes were fixed, and the darkness in them showed how he struggled with himself. To him, nothing else mattered but this.

Chapter Ten