Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (26 page)

I spent the day at the crannog, letting the placid spell of the isolated lake work its soothing magic on me. I tried and failed to burn away the ache inside by sinking myself in the fire of my Ea’s eyes. I tried and failed to conjure a bit of healing laughter from the antics of the squirrel and the otter’s comical face. My hands were busy, laboring over things like feeding the creatures and cleaning the messes they’d made. While I had that sort of work to do, my mind tumbled into a kind of slumber. It awoke
only when it was time for me to examine the animals to see how they were healing.

Odran was right: the squirrel looked ready to resume his old life. I thought about letting him go, but a glance at Ea’s empty perch made me reconsider. Now she was sailing the sky, out of sight but probably nearby, on the hunt.

“I’m sorry, little one,” I told the squirrel. “I think you’re well enough to go, but if you’re still weak, you might turn into easy prey for Ea. I’d rest easier if Odran were the one to say you’re fit.” The squirrel fluffed his tail and chattered at me furiously, his tufted red ears twitching. At last I laughed. “Stop scolding me, you impatient thing! He’ll be here tomorrow. One more day won’t make a difference.” I gave him a handful of the acorns I’d gathered on my way to the crannog and he was placated. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered.

That night after dinner I tried to tell Odran about how matters stood with the animals. He interrupted me with a terse, “I’ll see for myself,” and ducked into his room.

I went to my own room and got into bed, but I couldn’t sleep.
Tomorrow is his last day here
, I thought, staring up into the darkness.
He’ll leave hating me. Worse than that, he’ll leave thinking I hate him
. I squeezed my eyes shut.
He’s got to hear my reasons. If he still hates me after that, so be it. But I have to try
.

The sun rose through heavy fog the next day and never quite found the strength to burn through. Wrapped in my wolf-collared cloak, I moved through the mist along a well-known path, intent on my purpose. The earthy smells of autumn rose out of the damp earth and the fallen leaves, and a hint of wood smoke came from a distant hearth.

The fire in our own hearth was still banked when I left
the great house. I’d gotten up before any of the servants, wanting to reach the crannog ahead of Odran so I could be waiting for him with all I needed to say carefully arranged in my mind. I had paused outside his room, listening for the heavy breath of sleepers, but the bull’s hide hanging in the doorway thwarted me.

Now I walked as briskly as the mist allowed, my eyes fixed on where I was going. Familiar or not, a path veiled by fog could disappear if you didn’t take heed of every step, and when that path crossed a bog, losing your way meant losing your life. One blunder off the boards, one tumble into the muck, and you’d sink from sight forever.

I gave a huge gasp of relief after I left the bog behind, cut through the pine forest, and reached the lakeshore. The mist still hung over everything, thickly blanketing the water and sucking up the sound of my footsteps as I crossed the raised wooden walkway.

A small light was burning inside the round house, the simple clay lamp Odran used to help him examine our creatures. He’d come there ahead of me after all. I entered without announcing myself. He was kneeling beside the otter when I came in. Guennola was nowhere to be seen, but Muirín was hiding behind Odran and stealing peeks at the otter every few moments. When the little fox caught my scent, she perked her ears forward and yipped, her face one big grin.

Odran’s reaction was not so welcoming. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to speak with you.”

“Well, I don’t have to listen.” He stood up and brushed off his hands. “You can release the otter tomorrow. The hare may
take another day or two—she’s making a funny noise when she breathes—but the squirrel is ready today. I was going to set him free after I gave the place one last cleaning, but since you’re here, you can handle that. Goodbye.” He turned his back on me, heading for Guennola’s enclosure.

I ran after him, grabbed his shoulder, and spun him around to face me. My fingers dug into his arms and I brought my face so close to his that our noses touched. “You
will
hear me. It won’t take long. I won’t cry. I won’t beg. But I swear by my head that I
will not
let you leave this house until you let me say my piece.”

“Do you think I’m
good enough
to hear a princess’s words?” He flung his enlaced hands straight up within the circle of my arms and threw them wide apart, breaking my hold. When I tried to seize him again, he thrust one hand at my chest, sending me reeling backward until I lost my balance and fell on my rump. “Give orders to your servants.”

I scrambled to my feet and dashed past him into the back of the house. Guennola was halfway out of her upside-down clay bowl when I pounced on it and cast it aside so recklessly that it shattered against a post. When I scooped her up, the stoat screeched a loud objection, biting the hand that held her close. I cried out in pain.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Odran yelled. “Let her go!”

“Not until you listen to me.” I’d sworn not to weep, but I couldn’t control the tears that flowed as Guennola’s teeth pierced my flesh.

“This is stupid! She’ll tear your hand to tatters.” He made a grab for her.

I wheeled sharply, blocking him with my shoulder. “If that’s what it takes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I surrender. Give her here and I’ll listen to you, I promise.”

That was good enough for me. I handed over the stoat and cradled my injured hand. There was a lot of blood; it made me queasy to look at it.

“The gods spare us, your face is white!” The anger was gone from Odran’s voice. He set Guennola on his shoulder and put his arm around me, gently bringing us to where we kept the healing supplies. As he soaked and salved and bandaged my hand, I spoke:

“I had to say no, Odran, and not because you’re ‘unworthy’ or anything else your father might have said. He was so blindly bound to the idea of our betrothal, he didn’t see how many lives it would cost, including yours.”

I told him everything I’d realized last night, helping him to see and hear it all through my eyes, my ears. I made him understand that when I’d said I had to wed a warrior, whether or not he was a king, it was a hard truth. He saw that my refusal was not a slap in the face, a declaration that he wasn’t fit to win a princess. It was a decision that I’d had to make for the good of my family, my people—

“My love.”

Odran kissed me. He moved so desperately fast that our teeth collided and my mouth was crushed. We both uttered a muffled “Ow!” but our lips didn’t part. I thought I was going to die for lack of breath and I didn’t care. This was the reality his father would never see through the smoke of his ambitious
plans. This was all I longed for and knew I couldn’t have without endangering a life as precious to me as my own. Even so, I yearned for him all the more and held him fast.

He ended it before I did, stepping back but still clasping my hands. His face was burning. “I don’t want to leave you, Maeve.”

“And I don’t want you to go.” I tightened my grip on his fingers. “We can’t let that happen.”

“It
is
happening. It’s happening tomorrow.”

“But not today. We have time. There must be a way to keep you here and safe and prevent my father’s enemies from using your presence as an excuse to turn against him. We have to think. We have to try.”

Why wasn’t the crannog one of the mounds that sheltered a gateway to the Fair Folk’s realm? Why couldn’t we enter a world where each day lasted for a hundred years? We couldn’t concentrate on crafting plans that might or might not work. We could only think
Tomorrow!
and cling to one another for consolation, warming the racing moments with our kisses.

We were still in each other’s arms when Ea came flying into the crannog, alighting neatly on her perch.

“Hello, beauty,” I said, happy to see her. “Be a good girl while I get your hood.” Odran grumped when I left his embrace to look after the kestrel. “Shame on you,” I told him, smiling. “You know I have to do this before she takes an interest in the other creatures.” As I searched for Ea’s hood, I said, “I have an idea: What if you told our fathers that you want to become a warrior? You could say you were going to keep your training secret, to fool any envious rivals who might harm you.”

“Oh,
that
would work,” Odran said with an ironic twist to his lips. “We’d just need to deal with a few details, like how I could learn weaponry in secret—”

“It’s been done,” I murmured.

“And how I’d live to take my first lesson before my father wrings my neck!”

“He won’t do that,” I replied confidently. “Not if he smells a second chance at getting what he’s always wanted. It
will
work, Odran. Our fathers will consent to this—you’ll see. And once Master Íobar leaves you behind, we’ll be free to come here whenever we like. Do you think we’ll find any new animals to tend when winter comes?”

“I hope not,” Odran said sincerely.

“Me neither—I’d rather none were sick or injured—but isn’t it a good thing to know we’ll both still be here to help
if
we’re needed?”

“Speak for yourself, Princess.” Master Íobar stood framed in the misty doorway, a gnarled blackthorn staff in his hand. “My son will go with me.”

“Master Íobar!” I exclaimed. All thought of finding Ea’s hood vanished. “But there’s no need for that. Odran and I … we … we’ve agreed to a betrothal after all.” I was so rattled by his abrupt appearance that I spouted the first stupid thing that came to mind.

“Have you?” He entered the round house and approached us. He was wearing the same rough garb as when I’d met him coming home from the hunt. “Then that makes my morning walk through bog and forest well worthwhile. Imagine my joy at this news.” I had to imagine it; there was no trace of pleasure
in his voice. “Shall we go back to give the High King his portion of happiness?”

“Yes, of course, we’ll come with you as soon as—”

“Take your time. I can wait.” The druid looked around him, scrutinizing everything. “So, Odran, is this where you come when you’re nowhere else to be found? Is all that I see here the lure that takes you from your lessons?” He cast a hooded glance at Muirín, who was sitting near Odran’s feet. The vixen regarded him in her playful way, impudent and bold.

The blackthorn stick lashed down. There was a sickening sound of impact, an agonized yelp, and Muirín lay stretched dead on the floor. I was still frozen by the horror of that small, broken body when Master Íobar strode to where the hare crouched, trembling, and destroyed her too. His cold eyes swerved to the otter.

“Father, no!” Odran reached the beast before Master Íobar could do so, shielding her with his own body. Hugging her close, keeping his head down, he bolted for the doorway.

His father paused only for a moment, sweeping the house for closer victims for his rage. He saw the squirrel’s nest, but not before I leaped to release the innocent little animal. As the panic-stricken creature zigzagged wildly, dodging the druid’s blows, Ea set up a shrill cry, flapping her wings and launching herself for the opening in the roof.

Cursing the squirrel’s lifesaving nimbleness, Master Íobar gave up trying to murder him and went after Odran. I chased them both, yelling, “Stop! Stop! Don’t do this!” I might as well have tried to ward off a thunderbolt with a whisper.

Outside, the mist was lifting. Odran stood knee-deep in the water, watching the otter swim away. He turned a triumphant face to his father, but his moment of victory ended abruptly. Master Íobar grabbed a lakeshore stone, fitted it to his sling, and sent it whistling through the air. I heard a muffled thump as it struck its target and the lovely, graceful swimmer sank without a sound. Odran’s wail of anguish would echo through my memory for days.

It wasn’t over. Master Íobar caught sight of Ea and picked up another rock.

“Let her alone!” I shouted, holding my skirt high, running as fast as I could, launching myself at him and pounding on his back with my fists just as he whipped the sling forward and shot the stone over the water, through the sky, to where a frightened kestrel flew far, but not far enough.

I didn’t hear the blow that struck her, but I saw her fall. I spun away from the druid, buried my face in my hands, and howled, refusing to witness her death. I shrieked and grieved until a hard slap across my face stunned me out of my unreasoning misery.

“Shut your mouth, you stupid girl,” Master Íobar ordered, his hand raised to strike again. “It’s only an animal.”

“Wh-why?” I asked. “Why did you need to do that? They were harmless creatures!”

“He did it to punish us.” Odran came to stand with me. His voice was as dead as the victims of Master Íobar’s slaughter.

“For
what
?” I glared at Odran’s father through my tears. “Didn’t you hear what I told you? You were going to get what you wanted!”

“I heard many things.” There wasn’t a glimmer of remorse in Master Íobar’s face. He was a man proud of a job well done.

“Eavesdropping,” Odran said. “How long did you tarry outside the house before you showed yourself, Father? You should be ashamed!”

Master Íobar seized Odran’s arm, yanked him away from me, and struck him so hard that he stumbled backward into the lake with a huge splash. “
Never
raise your voice to me,” the druid gritted. “You’re a young fool, drunk on your own desires. This girl has stolen your senses worse than the strongest mead. You’ve already forgotten how she rejected you yesterday and humiliated me before all of the High King’s men. I tell you, she’ll do the same to you again, on a whim. Today she fancies you, tomorrow she’ll be done with you, and you’re hollow-headed enough to eat that shame with a smile as long as it comes sweetened with her kisses. I thank the gods I’m here to save you from your own folly. Now get up. We’re going.”

Odran pushed himself out of the water. He was shivering, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from a chill or from holding in his rage. His father seemed indifferent to the harm that might come to his son’s health if he trudged back to Cruachan dripping wet in such weather. I flew to Odran and tossed my cloak over his shoulders. The autumn air was cold and the homeward road long, but I could endure it for his sake.