Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (5 page)

I didn’t mention Odran. Speaking about him now that I’d never see him again would only fill me with sorrow and longing. I kept his image securely locked away in my heart, mine alone. I didn’t utter Master Íobar’s name. I couldn’t face the memory of how the druid had slaughtered the small creatures that Odran and I had cared for so tenderly together.

Lady Moriath listened attentively to my tale. “Amazing,” she said. “Marvelous. The gods have brought you and this bird back together for a reason. I wonder what it is. You must tell this to Master Cairpre, Lord Artegal’s chief druid. He’ll know.”

I shook my head. “Please don’t tell anyone,” I said. “The gods have nothing to do with this, unless it’s to show that sometimes they take pity on us. It’s enough for me to know that she’s here, alive and well, and that I can be with her again.”

“Well, at least you have to tell Lord Kian about it. He’s the one who brought her here, badly wounded as she was. I never knew the lad had a gift for healing until he nursed that bird back to health.”

I stroked my Ea’s soft breast feathers affectionately. “He did very well.”

“He did more than that: he taught her to hunt for him. Did you ever hear of such a thing? A bird of prey willing to make a kill and surrender it?” Lady Moriath was as proud of his feat as if she’d performed it herself. “Our young Lord Kian must be the son of the Horned One, god of the hunt, to have such power!”

“Whose son am I?” Kian’s jovial voice boomed through the storehouse. He came striding in like a conqueror. “Shame on you, Lady Moriath, if you say I’m anyone’s child but Lord Artega—”

Then he saw me. His smile vanished and his face turned pale. It was like our first ill-omened encounter all over again, except this time I wasn’t half-naked.

I forced down my own embarrassment at seeing him and stood tall. “Good morning, Lord Kian,” I said with as much dignity as I could summon. “Lady Moriath was just showing me this beautiful kestrel. She says you found it, healed it, and trained it. How remarkable!” I caressed Ea’s wings.

“Careful!” he exclaimed, hastily shouldering his way between Ea and me. “It’ll bite you.”

“It won’t.” I put one hand on his arm and tried to move him aside, but he resisted. My brows came together. “And if it does, it does. I’ll take all the blame. You don’t need to shield me from it.”

“Lady Maeve, please.” He sounded pained. “This bird is my prize, my treasure. If it hurts you, the High King’s daughter, my father will tell me to release it forever.”

“I’m sure it would hate that.”

The irony in my words sailed right over his head. “Yes, so you see why I can’t risk having you stay so close to it. What are you doing in here anyway? This is where we store weapons and supplies to repair them. There’s nothing here to interest a girl.”

Lady Moriath spoke up before I could reply. “I brought her here, Lord Kian. It’s part of our embroidery lesson.”

He stared at her as though either she had lost her mind or
he had and he wasn’t sure which one. “Weapons and—and embroidery? Uh …”

The old woman rolled her eyes. “Lady Maeve wants to do better needlework and your mother graciously gave me permission to help. I say the best path to improving anything is to find a project that sparks your passion and begin there. This young woman loves wild hunting birds, as you can plainly see.” She waved to where I still stood my ground within arm’s reach of Ea. “I wanted her to see one at close range, to inspire her design.”

“Oh.” Kian rubbed the back of his head, still ill at ease. “Well, I guess that’s all right, as long as I’m here to make sure nothing goes wrong.” He turned to me. “But you can’t get too close to her, understand?”

We’ll see about that
, I thought.

“You spent
how
long with Lord Kian yesterday?” Ula’s voice rose to shrill heights. Her normally detached demeanor was gone. It was raining outside, a shower that had blown in out of nowhere, so we four were seated on benches, having our midday meal by the great house’s central fireplace.

“Shhh, shhh, not so loud. People will hear you.” Gormlaith made frantic shushing motions with her hands. The weather had driven many other folk indoors and the hearthside was crowded.

“Don’t you tell
me
to be quiet, you bowl of bog mud,” Ula shot back. But she did speak more softly.

“Shouted or whispered, what a stupid question.” Dairine calmly munched an apple. “What’s
interesting
is that she got to share his company so … cozily.”

“I’m sorry I told any of you one word about it,” I grumbled. That just provoked Dairine into making kissing sounds. “Stop that! And stop talking as if Lord Kian and I are sweethearts. I’ve only known him two days.”

Ula put on an arch face. “Didn’t I tell you they do things
differently
in Connacht?” she said in a perfect mockery of Lady Moriath. The others laughed, though Gormlaith tried to pretend she was coughing.

“Ugh! I wish Lord Kian were on the moon and the rest of you were with him,” I exclaimed, exasperated. “The only reason he and I were thrown together was Lady Moriath. She wanted me to study that hunting bird of his and when he discovered us with her, he wanted me to do it from seven spear lengths away!”

“I don’t think … I don’t think he wanted you to stay
that
far from the bird,” Gormlaith offered. “Seven spear lengths would … would leave you outside of the—”

I raised my hands in surrender. “All right, I’m exaggerating, but—”

“
That
was your special needlework lesson?” Dairine cut in. “Staring at some stupid bird while a handsome prince gazes at
you
?” She laughed raucously. “Remind me to botch
my
embroidery tomorrow!”

“Do what you want,” I said sharply. “It’s over. Your precious prince got nervous seeing me so close to the bird. He must have run tattling to his mother as soon as we left, because this morning Lady Moriath told me that Lady Lassaire’s taken back her permission for our lessons.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Dairine remarked. “Couldn’t she just forbid you to go near the bird?”

“That’s a silly question, coming from you.” Ula had the superior expression of someone who knew it all. “You’ve lived here for years. Have you ever seen our
dear
Lady Lightning act reasonably when she wants to assert her authority? Nothing by halves, not for her! You never know what’s going to make her strike, but when she does, it’s total devastation.”

“I’m sorry, Maeve,” Gormlaith said. “Maybe I can help you improve your needlework instead.”

“We’ll
all
help,” Ula decreed. “It will be much more fun for you than spending time with a half-deaf, half-blind husk like Moriath.”

“That’s mean, Ula,” I said. “None of that’s her fault. Do you think you’ll be any different when you get old?”

The tall girl tossed her head in disdain. “Aren’t
you
her champion! Why don’t you go persuade Kian to draw his sword against me and avenge the insult to your
dear
friend Moriath? You could do it. Just show him your bare backside again. He’ll be your slave.”

My mouth fell open. I was so stunned by Ula’s attack that I fought my way through half a dozen failed replies before I stammered, “How—how can you say—?”

Ula laughed in my face. She shrieked with so much glee that she doubled over and dropped the remains of her midday meal on the floor. Dairine joined in, clutching the tall girl’s shoulders and burying her face in her back as the two of them rocked back and forth. Even Gormlaith shared their hilarity, though she didn’t look like she was enjoying it. All the other members of Lord Artegal’s household who’d gathered at the hearthside stopped their own conversations to stare at us.

“What’s going on out here?” Lady Lassaire stormed out of
her chamber, her long, silver-blond braid flying behind her like a comet’s tail.

“No-no-nothing, my lady.” Ula gasped for breath. “It’s only that Maeve was—that I said—that we—Oh, Maeve, if only you could see your face right now!” She howled and collapsed backward against Dairine, nearly carrying both of them off the bench.

“Ula was … We were all just joking, Lady Lassaire,” Gormlaith said, twisting two of her tiny braids together into a terrible snarl. “And Maeve thought we were serious.”

“Joking?” Lady Lassaire was doubtful.

Ula stood up, once again the picture of cool dignity. “I was teasing her a little, that’s all. You know that Dairine and Gormlaith and I do that sort of thing to each other all the time. Was it any different years back when you were a fosterling, my lady?”

Lady Lassaire’s frown softened into a smile. “Oh, Ula, you make it sound as if ages and
ages
have passed since I was young. Yes, I do remember how we teased and jested and even played tricks on each other. Some of the girls never did understand that it was all in fun, but I suppose there are some people who’d bite into a honeycomb and say it tasted sour.”

“Maybe we should give Maeve a mouthful of something sweet and see if she goes like
this.
” Dairine puckered her lips and made a grotesque face. Everyone laughed at her comical expression, including Lady Lassaire and me.

“I’ll take any test you dare to give me, Dairine,” I said lightly, trying to get into the spirit of things. If jests were part of a fosterling’s life at Dún Beithe, I’d share in it. I didn’t want them thinking I was as humorless as Master Íobar. “Just make
sure you bring me a
big
chunk of honeycomb, in case the first bite’s got a bee in it.”

“Not
too
big,” Gormlaith said in her meek way. “You don’t want to end up as fat as me, do you?” Her halfhearted chuckle lasted no longer than a hiccup.

Lady Lassaire took my hands. “I’m so happy to see that my girls are treating you like one of their own already, darling Maeve. I remember my time in fosterage with so much joy. I was my parents’ only child, and then to suddenly have a whole
flock
of sisters—! We behaved toward each other just like you dear girls. It was wonderful.”

I beamed at her. “I’m glad you have such good memories. I hope I’ll have the same someday.”

“As good or better,” Dairine said, linking arms with me. “We’ll see to it that you do.”

The rain clouds sailed away by sunset and the following morning was a beautiful gift from the gods. I woke before the other girls, my whole body thrilling with the strangest feeling, as though an invisible presence were whispering in my ear,
Run, Maeve! Run and see the glorious treasures that are waiting for you out there. Chase them, catch them, or lose them forever!

I was in my clothes and out of the great house in an instant. A brilliant sky welcomed me, and a breeze sweet with the scent of nearby woodland drew me to the ringfort gate, already open. I’d never had the opportunity to go beyond the walls of Dún Beithe on my own; I took it with both hands.

“Milady, wait! Where are you going?” The guard at the gateway called out as I dashed past him. I was in such high spirits that I kept on running without a single sign I’d heard
him. His pursuing footsteps pounded at my back, but before he could overtake me, the sound of hoofbeats brought us both to a standstill. We turned together to see Lord Artegal and Kian come riding toward us down the sloping path. Father and son were armed with bows and arrows, ready for an early morning hunt. Their horses’ black flanks were glossy as ravens’ wings. Midnight-colored manes and tails streamed in their wake. How Fechin would have longed to lay hands on them!

Then I saw my Ea and nothing else mattered. She rode Kian’s wrist with regal ease, talons clutching the protective leather sheath on his forearm. I couldn’t see her eyes because he had her hooded, but I knew they were blazing with anticipation. Soon she would be flying!

As the horses raced past, I waved my arms and shouted, “Good luck! Good hunting!” as loud as I could. Lord Artegal rode on, but Kian pulled back on the reins with one hand and brought his mount back up the path to face me.

“Thank you, Lady Maeve,” he said. “I’m glad you’re wishing me well.”

For a moment I considered saying
I wasn’t talking to
you,
tattle-tongue
, but I thought better of it. A plan had sparked to life in my mind. It would take skill and patience to nurse it into a fully blossomed flame.

“I’m not, Lord Kian,” I replied with a half-smile. “It only proves I’m a fool, repaying your insults with kindness.”

“Insults?” Kian was so startled he tightened his hand on the reins, making his horse take a few steps backward. “When did I insult you? If you’re talking about what happened on your first morning here—”

I raised one hand sharply. “I will
never
speak of that again,
and I hope you’ll do the same. I mean the insults you heaped on me when Lady Moriath brought me to see her.” I nodded at Ea. The kestrel’s head turned sharply toward the sound of my voice. “I appreciate your concern for my safety—that’s a wild bird, after all—but did you need to take it to such extremes?”

“I’m—I’m not sure what you’re saying, milady.” A look of confusion came over Kian’s handsome face.

Just as I intended. If you want to knock your opponent off his feet, first put him off-balance.

“Why did you tell your mother to end my needlework lessons with Lady Moriath?”

The bluntness of my question hit him hard. He began babbling a host of reasons and excuses stitched together with denials and dodges. He’d done nothing wrong, someone else had done it, he’d only done it for my own good, he never got mixed up in women’s business, he hadn’t said one word to his mother, she ignored every word he said to her, and so on and so on until I thought he’d gag on his own tangled tongue.

Since I was choking back the overwhelming urge to laugh, that made us even.

By this time, Lord Artegal had doubled back to see what was keeping his son from their hunting foray. He arrived in time to hear me say, “The worst thing about what you did, Lord Kian, isn’t how you offended me, but how you insulted yourself. Your cousin Lady Íde is my mother’s dearest friend, and it breaks my heart to imagine how she’d take this news if it reached her.”