Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (30 page)

I clasped him even closer and leaped to meet it.

From that night on, Odran and I lived in a private realm, a refuge of laughter and joy beyond words and sometimes a place of bittersweet shared memories.

We spent as much time as we could in each other’s arms. While I rested my head on his shoulder, he told me about his
life among the druids and healers of Avallach. He and the other boys met daily for lessons and meals, though lately he preferred to take his food away to eat alone.

“Ever since my illness, it feels as if they’re always watching to see if I’m eating enough. At least they’re discreet about it, or I’m afraid they’d follow me here to make sure I’m not burying my meals.”

“A good thing for us they don’t do that. I’m sure they’ll be very happy to see you carrying off
double
portions now,” I teased.

“I never thought I’d call myself lucky for being so sick,” he said. “Edana had me moved to this house, as far from everyone else as I could be while staying within the bounds of the settlement. After I recovered, no one thought to order me back to the students’ shared quarters. I was happy: I never liked living jumbled up with them, like a litter of puppies.” His arm tightened around me. “I’m even more thankful now that I have something precious to keep hidden.”

“I’m grateful too,” I said, laying my hand on his chest. “But I’m also curious: Why did your healer think it was a good idea to isolate you?”

“Edana believes that some ailments can take the form of an invisible fog that lingers over you when you’re ill. She didn’t want my sickness to touch the others.”

“A female healer,” I mused, fascinated. “And one that the chief druids here obey?”

“She’s proved her abilities to the point that no one dares to question them. Some say that Dian Cecht, god of healing, must be her lover. It’s the only way to explain her talent.”

“Of course it is,” I said drily. “She couldn’t possibly have acquired her skills by her own efforts.”

“Were you always this sarcastic?” Odran asked, smiling before he kissed me.

In the kingdom that Odran and I created for ourselves, time was not the same as it was in the world beyond the little house. It slipped away, yet still managed to make each individual day drag on from the moment Odran left to receive his lessons until he returned with our evening meal. We were like happy children, making no plans for the future, too caught up in the sweetness of
now.
We agreed that I had to stay hidden. He brought extra food and I made a game of portioning it out for my meals while he was gone.

The game grew boring quickly. One day I changed the rules. I became tense and snappish with having to remain out of sight. Like a trapped animal, I became possessed by the urge to escape. I told myself,
I came to Avallach and found Odran without being detected by anyone. Why can’t I make small daylight forays away from the settlement? It’s not just for me: Ea is wretched. We fly her only when the rest of this community is busy with the evening meal. She’s not a bat or a moth! She wants the sun, and she needs to be free to hunt the way she was born to do.

Once again I claimed my freedom, asking no one’s permission. As soon as Odran left each morning, Ea and I darted from the house to the woods and beyond. Now I was not just hiding from the druids and their students, the healers and their patients, but from Odran as well. He never found out, though he did notice how much happier I was and how much more attentive I became when he reported his day’s doings.

I couldn’t tell him mine. Secrets breed silence and silence can spread as subtly and surely as moss creeping over a stone. It stole more and more of our time together. Our few true conversations were insignificant chatter about the weather or mundane chores, or reminiscences about the crannog and the days we’d spent there tending wounded creatures. We learned the painful lesson that a memory shared too often no longer shines like the finest silk, but becomes as worn-out and threadbare as a beggar’s tunic.

Our embraces suffered a horrible change, becoming distractions from what was growing more and more wrong between us. If we couldn’t talk, we could kiss and pretend that was all our hearts desired.

There are lies we tell and lies we live. How could I go on believing I loved Odran so much, when I knew that his presence alone wasn’t enough to satisfy me? I was betraying him as well as myself. There were times when I caught him looking at me with a furtive expression in his eyes that as good as said aloud that he felt the same.

I found myself wishing we were back in Connacht, working together at the crannog, sharing the labor of caring for creatures in need. When I took Ea out for her flights, I scanned the ground for any sign of a wounded bird or other animal. I was disappointed to find none, then realized what I was thinking.
Selfish!
I berated myself.
Selfish and cruel!

I don’t know how long Odran and I could have lived as we were. All that seemed to hold us together were our times of sweetness, and these began to lose their overwhelming power over us. Every kiss no longer led to more than that. The gentle touch of his hand on mine was pleasant, but kindled no
blaze. We became ill at ease, not knowing how a love that once seemed like the blessed path to Tír na nÓg, land of eternal joy, had withered to … this.

I was coming home from one of Ea’s outings when I saw a woman in green waiting outside our dwelling. I backtracked as fast and silently as I could, seeking to hide in the woods until she left, but before I could retreat far, I glimpsed Odran emerging from the house. He spoke a few words to her. She nodded, cupped her hands to her mouth, and called my name.

I hesitated, shocked and heartsick. Why had he revealed my presence? Was this his way of cutting loose a tie he regretted ever making?

A third figure appeared, coming from behind the house. Master Íobar shaded his eyes with one hand and scanned the trees that sheltered me. He didn’t say a word, but began walking straight toward me. I came close to believing he possessed a touch of magical power until I recalled his skill with the sling.
Good eyes make good hunters
, I thought.
He’s seen me. And why am I cowering here, after all? If Odran wants to be rid of me, I’ll go.

I walked out of the woodland smiling as serenely as if I were welcoming honored guests to my father’s home.

Edana and I sat on a bench outside her home, close to the druids’ great house in the center of the settlement. At the healer’s insistence, I’d left Ea hooded on her perch in Odran’s dwelling before following her here. We were well placed to watch all the comings and goings of Master Íobar’s colleagues, who were bustling through the doorway like ants at the mouth of their hill. My discovery was the cause of it all.

“You don’t speak much, do you, Lady Maeve?” Edana regarded me with a benevolent smile, as though we were old friends. She was right: I hadn’t said three words since sitting down.

“What would you like me to say, my lady?” I sounded as morose as I felt. “That I feel stupid? That I’m a foolish girl who ran off to chase after some boy?”

“First of all, I am not nobly born, so I have no claim to being called ‘lady,’ ” she said calmly. “I am only Edana.”

“That seems unfair. Odran tells me you’re the best healer on Avallach. We call the druids ‘Master.’ You deserve some show of respect.”

“Titles are no substitute for true reverence and appreciation. I’m satisfied to know my own worth, and to sometimes receive thanks for my work.”

“And I believe that mere thanks will never be enough to repay you for saving Odran’s life.” One corner of my mouth quirked up slightly. “If we were in Connacht, I could give you half my cattle. Shall I send them to you when I’m sent home?”

“Cattle travel poorly,” the healer joked. She tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind one ear. I couldn’t stop marveling at how young she was, her face fresh and unmarked by any wrinkles. How had she gained so much wisdom in the ways of herbs and other treatments so young? “Besides, no one is
sending
you anywhere.”

“What?” I stared at her. “But isn’t that what they’re talking about in there?”

She shook her head. “Avallach welcomes all who come here in need. We let each person choose when she is ready to leave
us, unless we see that she is too ill to make such a decision rationally.”

“My choice has been settled for me,” I said. “Odran’s made it plain that he’s seen enough of me.”

“How do you know that?”

“He didn’t hesitate to tell you I was hiding here.”

Edana laid her hand over mine. “He wasn’t the one who revealed your presence. Master Íobar came to visit his son. He wanted to be sure that Odran was well again. When he talked to me, he admitted he’d been too cowardly to return to Avallach until now, in case the news was bad. Some people believe that what they don’t see or hear doesn’t exist.”

“I know at least one person like that,” I muttered.

“Odran’s father would have gone on being just such a person if not for a young woman who encouraged him to deal with his fears. He spoke quite highly of her bold spirit; her kind, forgiving heart; and—if I’d pardon him for admiring the beauty of a lass young enough to be his daughter—the most glorious red hair he’d ever seen.” She squeezed my fingers gently. “Picture my surprise when I spied just such a strand of fiery hair clinging to Odran’s shoulder when the lad tried to persuade us
not
to enter his house. When I pointed it out, he claimed he’d been spending time with one of the local girls.” She sighed. “He’s a poor liar. A few more questions and he knew he was beaten. That’s the sole reason he gave me your name.”

Hearing this made me feel better, but it didn’t resolve my situation. “So I won’t be forced to leave Avallach?”

“No, but you won’t be permitted to go on living with Odran either. He is a student here and there are certain standards he
must meet. Perhaps it’s time for him to return to sharing a house with the other boys. You can remain in his old dwelling.”

“Isn’t there another way? He’s so much more comfortable in a place of his own. I swear I won’t go near him if you leave him be.”

“You care about him very much.” She looked me in the eyes. “Do you love him?”

I blushed. “Of course I do!” I exclaimed with more force than necessary.

“Indeed. And he loves you as well, I know, but”—her head tilted to one side, like a bird’s—“do you
love
him?”

“You just asked me that,” I said uneasily.

“I think not. If the gods are good to us, our lives allow us to love many people before Donn welcomes us to the dark shore of Tech Duinn. Parents, brothers, sisters, kin, friends—”

“Even animals,” I said under my breath, thinking of my Ea.

She heard me and nodded approval. “That is so. But for the truly blessed among us, a day comes when we find a person who is our second self, someone with whom we can share words but also silence, one who knows us to the core. That is what I mean when I ask if you
love
Odran.”

“As much—as much as he loves me,” I said.

Edana studied me closely. “I must ask you this, Lady Maeve: have you been here on Avallach long enough to have your moon time come?”

I knew her meaning. “Yes. Only six days ago.”

“You sound disappointed. Is it because you want to bear Odran’s child?”

“Yes. No. I mean, I thought I did.”

“Why?”

I told her about how Odran and I first grew close when we tended the creatures on the crannog. “It bound us more than—more than anything we’ve ever shared,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks as I faced the truth: I had never felt more a part of him than then, not even once during all our time together on Avallach.

“You imagined you could recapture that bond if the two of you had another small life in your care.” Edana spoke simply, without any hint of mockery or condemnation.

I looked at the ground between my feet. “I told you I was foolish.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You’re not the first girl to believe that there are magical ways of binding love.”

I raised my head. “I’m glad nothing happened. I love Odran, I
do
, but not if I need to weave spells to hold us together. The thing is …” I paused, uncertain if I wanted to reveal my thoughts. “I enjoy—enjoy
being
with him, but when we’re not—not—”

I don’t know how flustered I would have grown if she hadn’t saved me by saying: “That happens, Lady Maeve. Yes, and it may happen to you again more than once before you find the one who’ll match you in body, mind, and spirit. Learn and let it pass.”

A boy came running from the great house. “Edana, the masters are asking for you,” he said.

She rose gracefully from the bench. “What about Lady Maeve? Do they wish to speak with her too?”

The lad looked doubtful. “They didn’t say so.”

“They didn’t say no either,” I pointed out. Edana laughed and I accompanied her into the great house.

I don’t know what I expected to find inside: piles of ingredients for spells and potions? Cauldrons waiting to be filled with uncanny brews? Stones set out in complex patterns making a maze for the druids to walk in secret? I felt dreadfully let down when I saw nothing of the sort.

Five druids of Avallach were seated beside the central hearth, awaiting Edana. One raised his grizzled eyebrows in surprise when he saw me, but the others accepted my presence impassively. Odran and his father stood to one side. Master Íobar was not happy.

“Is this the girl?” one of the five asked.

I stepped forward before anyone could speak for me but myself. “I am Maeve of Connacht, daughter of Cloithfinn and Eochu Feidlech. Blessings to you, honored masters.”

The eldest-looking of the group pursed his lips and frowned. “Do you mean you are the child of
Lord
Eochu Feidlech, High King of all Èriu?”

I spread my hands. “We are not in Èriu now. If I’d come here for healing or learning, would my father’s title matter?”

A pair of the gray-haired masters nodded approval, but my questioner was not impressed. “But you have not come here for either reason and
that
”—he indicated the ill-fitting garment I’d gotten from the tanner’s wife—“is not what a princess wears. If not for your gold torque, you’d be mistaken for a servant.”