Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (36 page)

How could my father, the man I’d loved and worshipped all my life, be so unjust? I was torn from throat to heart. It wasn’t possible. It was wrong. I refused to believe it.

I did.

Caílte stirred well before dawn and sat up with his head in his hands. Daire was on sentry duty and glanced his way for an instant, then shrugged and ignored him. He’d grown accustomed to Caílte’s midnight horrors.

I took the opportunity to creep closer and place a comforting hand on his arm. “Father won’t know you told me about Kelan,” I whispered.

Caílte’s face remained impassive in the leaf-scattered
moonlight. “That’s kind of you, Princess, but it’s a secret you don’t need to keep. The High King has never been a man to question the rightness of his actions. If you think less of him for this, he’ll see it as a flaw in you, not himself.”

I lowered my gaze. “Does my mother know?”

“That I killed the lad?” He sounded incredulous. As if anyone in Cruachan didn’t know that!

“I mean does she know Father forced you to do something so unjust?” I looked up again to see him shake his head.

“Only a fool would say anything to Lady Cloithfinn that might turn her against her husband. He’d find out, and then it’d be just a matter of days before he repaid whoever did it.” He gave me an uncertain look. “Of course he’d never touch
you
for carrying the tale to her, Lady Maeve, but … will you?”

I reassured him that I would tell Mother nothing. What good would it do? She’d hate Father for it, and that would poison her life as well as his. Worse, she might declare he’d done the right thing, and then I’d have to hate them both.

“Say, why are you two putting your heads together over there?” Daire called out cheerily. He was in a good mood, probably already feeling the weight of gold Father would put into his hands. “I thought we were all friends here.”

“We are, which is why I wanted to speak with Caílte alone,” I replied lightly. “I’m about to give him a gift and I didn’t want you to feel neglected, seeing him receive it when I have nothing for you.”

“Unfair! Our princess is playing favorites.” Daire made a playfully exaggerated show of wounded pride. “Why does
he
deserve a gift?”

“Because he doesn’t question his princess or keep a poor, weary bard from his dreams?” Devnet suggested sleepily.

My fingers dipped into the little pouch at my waist and plucked out the shard of Kelan’s sword. Before Caílte knew what I was doing, I took his hand in one of mine, placed the sliver of iron on his palm, and curled his fingers around it. Leaning forward, I whispered in the warrior’s ear, “This was Kelan’s, and mine, and now it’s yours, a token of peace, a charm to set you free. It carries his forgiveness. You won’t see his face again.”

Caílte opened his hand only enough to glimpse what I’d given him, then shoved the iron sliver deep into his own pouch, ignoring Daire’s pestering him to reveal my gift. He lay down again, as did I. Now I could sleep.

The next morning, Caílte put an end to Daire’s curiosity. “You want to see my princess’s gift?” he asked, so pleasantly that his fellow warrior gave him a suspicious look. “Here it is.” He displayed the iron shard.

“That’s it?” Daire blinked. “
That’s
your royal gift?”

“It is,” Caílte said. “And it’s wondrous.”

“It’s a rusty piece of nothing. Yet here you sit, grinning like a man who’s been given gold, fast horses, and a beautiful, silent wife. Have you finally lost your mind?”

“No, nor will I. Lady Maeve’s gift gave me the first peaceful night I’ve known in years. That’s worth more to me than anything you’ve named.” He fixed a grateful look on me. “Where did you learn to weave such magic, Princess?”

I could only smile back at him. There was no enchantment tied to the remnant of Kelan’s shattered sword. I didn’t
have a druid’s power to bless or curse. All I’d done was offer a long-suffering spirit permission to accept my forgiveness and to forgive himself. If he chose to call it magic, I wouldn’t tell him otherwise.

Father’s party intercepted ours when the sun stood directly overhead, after we’d emerged from the forest. I braced myself for the moment when I’d have to face him. Would I be able to bear his touch or would I shrink back into myself when he embraced me? Would he question me for that or would he even notice? Try as I would, I couldn’t summon up the ability to act as though nothing had changed between us. Every time I remembered what he’d done, the years that had passed between Kelan’s death and now became no more than the blink of an eye.

Fechin was driving Father to meet us. They were accompanied by at least twenty armed men, some on foot, some on horseback. I could tell the exact moment he caught sight of us because that was when his chariot broke away from everyone else and spewed dust behind it. It took the mounted men a moment to gather their wits and urge their horses into a gallop, but soon they were pacing the High King, while the men on foot came pelting after.

“We’re either about to get welcomed or trampled,” Devnet murmured to me. “Maybe we should go back into the woods.”

I was too tense to share his humor. As Fechin reined back the horses, Father leaped from his chariot and lifted me off my feet in an overpowering hug.

“Oh my Maeve, my spark, thank all the gods you’re safe!” he cried.

Yes, thank them for that
, I thought, feeling like no more than a bundle of cloth in his arms.
Or who would have to die this time for failing to protect the High King’s prized possession?

Father set me down and got a good look at me. I’d rinsed the ash paste from my face in a woodland stream but had done a slapdash job of it. I never had time to wash my gray-streaked hair at all. “What
happened
to you?” he exclaimed.

That question drew our bard like nectar draws bees. I had no hope of answering before Devnet came forward, the first words of our adventure already falling from his lips.

I never heard such an artful weaving of words. Devnet’s clear, strong voice recounted my full participation in his rescue, everything from how I’d found a way for three men to overcome a dozen without shedding a single drop of blood to how I’d mustered the forces of the Otherworld to help me defeat Morann’s men. He dwelled lovingly on the way I’d brought the fallen king to account for his sins, including the fact that he’d broken the guest-bond, had the effrontery to demand me for his fosterling, and worst of all …

“He broke my harp.”

There was nothing maidenly about me in that telling. I wasn’t the princess who depended on others for protection but the one who fought to defend what was precious to her. Devnet spoke only the truth—though of course he couldn’t resist adding his own dramatic touches and tweaks. His skill took my exploits and served them up like salt seasoning a stew from tastelessness to savory perfection. He described me as the girl I was, the girl my father never wanted me to be.

I watched Father’s face as Devnet spoke. He wasn’t happy, but his warriors were. They kept up an ongoing chorus of
approval. The corners of Father’s mouth were pulled down farther and farther with every shout of praise for what I’d accomplished.

Devnet lifted his hands, offering up the last of his tale. “I’ve often said that our princess has a warrior’s spirit, which is a good thing in a woman. Our most formidable fighters have always inherited their daring, strength, and courage from
both
parents. Valiant mothers breed valiant sons. Your three boys will soon prove that, Lord Eochu, as your daughter will do once she finds her true mate. But where is the hero brave enough to hold her fire in his hands? Where is the man wise and bold enough to recognize her true worth without fearing it and to reward it fitly?”

The warriors roared agreement, beating their swords against their shields until it sounded like the thundering challenge that rose from both sides before a battle. Even Father seemed to accept what I’d done and gave me a look that was filled with pride.

But how long will this last?
I thought.
How soon before he falls back into the old ways, trying to tether me? And how can I stand it, knowing what he’s done and still might do to anyone who tries to help me cut that cord?
I absentmindedly twined a tress of hair around my finger. It was one of the few that had escaped being coated with ashes. As I looked at it, I imagined it braided and looped around a kestrel’s foot, a bracelet made of flame, destined for flight.
Oh, Ea, if I stay here, I’m earthbound!

“Maeve?” Father’s voice roused me. “My little warrior, don’t you know it’s not polite to ignore your king when he’s trying to reward your courage?”

“I’m sorry, Father. What were you saying?”

“Lord Eochu wants your aid, my lady,” Devnet said. “He’s smart enough to know that our heroism must bring you a much greater prize than cattle or gold, but he has no notion what that prize should be.”

“That’s true, my spark,” Father said benevolently. “I leave it to you. Tell me what you’d like and it’s yours.” He winked. “Within reason. I can’t give you Connacht and you’d have to fight me if you wanted to be High King.”

I looked him in the eye. “Is that a promise? Do you give me your word as king?”

He drew back, put off balance by what I’d said. “If you wish.” He sounded mystified, but took his oath before our bard and with his warriors at witnesses. “But I don’t see why you need—”

“Send me away. I want to be like my sisters. I want to go into fosterage.”

All Cruachan agreed that I’d asked for the most admirable reward in the world. It wasn’t greedy or ambitious. It was a natural part of the lives of highborn children. It would benefit Connacht through the alliance it secured between us and the kingdom that accepted me.

And wasn’t it touching that I’d requested to be placed with Lady Íde’s beloved cousin, Lord Artegal of Dún Beithe? Father raised a brow to hear me take control of a choice that should have been his, but when I said, “I want to do this to honor Mother’s loyal friend, the woman who devoted herself to the safe birth of my brothers,” he had to hold his tongue.

As soon as we received Lord Artegal’s enthusiastic consent to foster me, preparations began for sending me to my new life
in the north. Lady Íde was delighted that I’d be a part of her cousin’s household. “Artegal is a wonderful man, though he and his wife can be a bit softheaded when it comes to that boy of theirs. I know they’ll make you welcome.” She and Mother worked furiously through their tears, driving the women of Cruachan in a dozen different directions in order to assemble all the things I’d need for my departure. Everything was ready in three days’ time.

To my chagrin, I wasn’t permitted to take part in any of the work. Mother insisted I use my remaining days for taking leave of the people and places I wouldn’t see for years to come. Some I might never see again.

I was no longer kept at arm’s length from my brothers. The triplets’ nurses began presenting the
findemna
to me every chance they got, as if my brothers were three platters of choice food. The first time I took one of the babies into my arms, I was rewarded with a smile.

“Who are you, precious one?” I asked him tenderly.

“That’s Lothar.” His nurse spoke as proudly as if she’d given birth to the prince herself. “Do you feel how strong he is? He’ll be walking before the next new moon!”

“Then he’ll have to catch up with my Bres,” a second woman declared. “He’ll be walking
long
before that.”

The two of them began to bicker over which of their infant charges was the cleverest, the better eater, the most advanced, until the third nursemaid quietly said, “Nár sleeps all through the night and never wakes me.” This earned a pair of envious glares from her colleagues, but it also put an end to the argument.

The day before I left, I went to visit my cattle. It gave me
a great sense of satisfaction and security to see how well they were doing. The cowherd took pride in showing me how they thrived and reassured me he’d continue to care for them well until my return.

On the way back, I met Devnet. “I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he said. “That is, your father asked me to find you and bring you to him for a private farewell. There are some things he’d like to tell you before you go that he can’t say tomorrow in front of everyone.”

“Thank you, Devnet,” I said. “You won’t have to escort me. I ought to be able to find him on my own.”

“You
ought
to, but
will
you?” I couldn’t deceive a man who lived by playing with all aspects of words, from their plainest meanings to their most secret subtleties. “I haven’t seen you in Lord Eochu’s company once since his return. Something’s changed.”

“Things do,” I replied. I sped up my pace, but Devnet matched it.

“You’re right, my lady,” he said. “Things, people, hearts, truth, they all change. It’s only our way of seeing them that’s permanent.”

A half-smile lifted one corner of my mouth. “That’s not the way it is with truth and you know it.”

“Well, I’ve lived long enough to know many things, especially about truth and change. As a bard, I’ve often braided both of them together.” He smiled and kissed the top of my head. “Your leave-taking is a change I wish weren’t true. How can Cruachan live without its princess? And such a princess! One who loves strongly and hates swiftly, who acts rashly and gives freely, who understands slowly but once she does,
it’s deeply and with a knowing heart. Above all, one who lives boldly.” He lifted my chin with one fingertip. “Can my princess also learn to hide the truth just long enough to forgive her enemy graciously before she leaves his care?”

“Father’s not my enemy.” Rising tears choked my voice. “But what he did—”

“Hush. I knew there was a reason things had changed between him and you, but nothing about what caused it. I doubt I need to know. Keep this secret if revealing it will do more harm than good.”

Is that enough reason to hide the truth?
I wondered. But I said nothing. I’d been brought up to revere the bards and to accept their words as wisdom.