Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (13 page)

“Yes, I can see that the very thought of it is breaking your heart, Lady Maeve.” Was that a
wink
he gave me? “I’m sorry to say that I’ll be going home within a day or two, as soon as I’ve taken care of the business that brings me here. On the other hand, I look forward to telling my men about the wondrous thing I’ve discovered here, a hawk that hunts like a hound!” He made a grand gesture at Ea with both hands.

She’s a
falcon,
you … you turnip head!
I thought, insulted on Ea’s behalf.

“That’s what we spoke about last night,” Kian said. He didn’t look as if he’d relished that conversation. “Father told Lord Conchobar about my bird and insisted I show her to our guest.”

“Well, Lady Maeve and I will leave you two to that,” Lady Moriath said. “We can have our embroidery lesson elsewhere today.”

“No, no, please stay with us!” Conchobar grabbed the elderly woman’s hands and gazed at her with all the charm
he could muster. “Lord Kian was just about to tell me how he came to train this lovely hawk.”

Hawk
again? I couldn’t stand it.

“She’s not a hawk, she’s a falcon,” I said. “Don’t you know the difference?”

“Apparently not.” Conchobar sounded amused. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me now, and why it matters.”

“Ignorance always matters, especially when you act like it’s something to be proud of,” I said fiercely. “Falcons are smaller and faster. They use their beaks more than their talons to make their kills, and … and …” As I spoke, I remembered Odran teaching me the very facts I now repeated. I saw his gentle face so vividly before my eyes that all of my resentment of Conchobar’s provoking ways faded into memories of how sweet it was to kiss him and hear him—and hear him—

To my horror, I realized that I couldn’t hear him anymore. I could see his lips moving, whispering endearments, but I could no longer recapture his voice. I fell silent.

Conchobar didn’t notice. “If you say so, milady, but hawk, falcon, owl, or eagle, I never heard of any man able to command a bird to come willingly to his hand. How did you do it, Lord Kian?”

“Food. There’s nothing simpler,” Kian replied. “I fed her while she was healing. After her wing mended, I tied a leash to her leg and let her fly short distances, but always brought her back to my wrist with more food. Now she looks at me and thinks, ‘What’s for dinner?’ It’s not like a dog’s loyalty, but as long as it works, who cares?”

“Why did she need to be healed?” Conchobar’s interest
became fascination. “Did you shoot her out of the sky and change your mind once she struck the ground?” He laughed as if he’d made a wonderful joke.

Kian scowled murderously. He cared about Ea and plainly didn’t like being accused of harming her, even if that accusation came from Conchobar’s clumsy attempt at humor. With his fists clenched, he told his unwelcome guest the tale I already knew: “I was hunting far from Dún Beithe when I found this fine bird wounded on the road, her wing broken. I could have ridden on, but she had such a courageous gaze and so much fire in her eyes that I couldn’t bring myself to leave her there to die. I had to try helping her. Someone like you would call me foolish for that.”

“Not foolish, Lord Kian; admirable,” I spoke up again, giving Conchobar a look that defied him to say otherwise.

My support drew off some of the tension thrumming through Kian’s body. He relaxed enough to chuckle and remark, “That’s not what Father said at first, but he came around.”

“To heal a hawk—! I mean, a falcon.” Conchobar’s lame bid to ingratiate himself with me missed the mark. “Lady Maeve is right: that
is
admirable. Where did you learn that skill?” He addressed Kian with admiration so sincere that my friend couldn’t help but be charmed and flattered.

“I can’t claim credit for what’s not mine,” Kian said modestly. “This bird owes her life to Bryg.”

Lady Moriath’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling a small cry of pity. “That poor, lost child.”

“Why?” I asked. “What happened to her?” Lady Moriath’s reaction sent an irrational chill skittering across my skin.

“Never mind.” The older woman turned brisk with me. “I
am supposed to be teaching you needlework, not letting you waste time in idle chatter. Lord Kian, Lord Conchobar, I look forward to seeing you at dinner.” She walked out and I had to follow.

I finished embroidering my falcon that day and turned the cloth into a belt pouch the following morning, but I didn’t give it to Kian.

“For me?” Lady Moriath held my gift gingerly, as if afraid the stitched bird’s beak would bite her. I’d presented it to her after breakfast. Her expression wavered between pleasure and confusion. “You said you were making this for Lord Kian.”

“Wasn’t that the best way to surprise you?” I smiled. “With your help and patience, I’ve mastered the needle. This is my thanks.” I unpinned a silver brooch from my gown and pinned it to hers. “This too.”

She grew teary. “Now you have no more need of me.”

I embraced her, pressing my cheek to hers. “We both know that’s not true.”

“What’s not true, Lady Maeve?” Conchobar appeared out of nowhere. It amazed me how such a tall, brawny young man could move so stealthily. I didn’t like it.

“If it were any of your business, my lord, I’d tell you,” I said.

Lady Moriath sucked in her breath sharply. “Oh! Lady Maeve, that is
not
the way to speak to a guest.”

“You’re right, milady, it’s not.” Conchobar’s fiery brows met and he glared at me darkly. “I think I’ve been insulted. If you were a man, I’d fight you for that, as your father once fought mine. But you’re no warrior; you’re only a loose-tongued girl, so perhaps I’d better have a word with the one who failed to teach
you courtesy.” He turned to Lady Moriath. “Where can I find Lady Lassaire at this time of day?”

“She … she … I think she’s gone ahead to the dye vat to … to see that the fire’s been kindled. She wants the girls to learn how to color wool before … before—”

The older woman was thrown into a terrified flutter by Conchobar’s temper. I wanted to step between them and shield her, but before I could say or do anything, he seized my wrist. “This one’s going to get a different lesson,” he decreed, and tried hauling me out of the great house.

I pulled back, struggling to free myself from his grip. “How dare you?” I cried, digging my heels into the dirt. “Let me go! If you want me to come with you,
ask.
I’m not a beast to be pulled along!”

“No, you’re a sweet little barrel of honey,” he said, and scooped me off my feet, slung me over his shoulder, and carried me away.

His audacity left me too breathless to protest. I wasn’t the only one stunned by Conchobar’s daring and insolence. Not a single one of Lord Artegal’s household who saw that horrible boy making off with me said a word, though I had no doubt they’d find their tongues soon enough to send rumors flying.

Conchobar’s long legs swiftly took us from the great house to a quiet part of the fortress, the woodpile that fed Dún Beithe’s hearth. By the time I’d recovered myself enough to try fighting my captor, he’d set me back on my feet.

“Let’s make this quick,” he said.

The sling was out of my belt pouch almost before he finished speaking. “Yes, let’s,” I said, swinging it slowly back and forth, poised to whirl it and strike.

Conchobar goggled at me and stepped back, hands raised. “Where did a girl like you get that?”

“Again, my lord, if that were something that
truly
concerned you—”

“Is this the way you always greet a messenger?”

“Messenger?” What was he talking about? I wanted to know more but refused to let down my guard. The loaded sling stayed ready and my unblinking eyes remained locked on his.

“Yes, and the sooner I’m done with this thankless role, the sooner I can go back to Emain Macha and girls who know the
right
way to behave. I used to hate your father for killing mine, but after meeting you, I’ve got nothing but pity for poor old Eochu Feidlech. At least he has
one
decently raised daughter! Tell me, do the rest of your sisters take after you or Lady Derbriu?”

The sling dropped to my side. “What do you know about Derbriu?” I demanded.

“She’s the reason I’m here. That sweet lady married one of my best men and filled his household with so many fine sons that I’m afraid he’s raising a war band against me!”

He was laughing; I was not. Out of my five sisters, Derbriu was the one closest to my age and my heart. She’d been sent into fosterage among Conchobar’s people, the Ulaidh, though it broke both our hearts to be separated. I still missed her and often pined for some word from her, but none ever came.

Now this, a message sent in the mouth of Emain Macha’s brash young king? I couldn’t tell whether to dread or hope for what it might be.

Conchobar noticed my troubled look. His aggravating grin shriveled like a feather held in a flame. “Don’t worry,
Lady Maeve, I bring good news for you. Your sister is alive and well, thriving and happy. She has yet another baby on the way and asked me to tell you she longs for a girl this time, since she’s always wanted to give you a namesake. She misses you and wishes she could have gone back to Cruachan at least once in all these years, but leaving fosterage might’ve insulted the household that took her in. She might’ve done it after she married, but the children—! One after the other, like hiccups. The first one arrived before her husband finished asking, ‘Will you be my wife?’ and I swear the infant looked up at him and answered, ‘She will!’ ”

“And of
course
you were there to see it.” I had to smile.

“Who’d be a better witness than one who never exaggerates?” Conchobar said, doing a fine job of looking innocent. “You should give me that nasty thing as a gift for your sister.” He indicated the sling now dangling from my hand. “She needs
some
way to hold off that husband of hers, if only for a year.”

“Lord Conchobar, I’m grateful to hear about Derbriu, but why didn’t you tell me this sooner, and without so much”—I gestured at our isolated surroundings—“fuss?”

“If I’d known you were Lady Derbriu’s sister when we first met on the road here, I’d have told you then,” he said. “That is, if your watchdog Kian would’ve let me. I’ve met more than one girl named Maeve, you know. By the time I knew you were the one I was after, we were inside the ringfort walls with all of Lord Artegal’s household. I thought you might want to receive her message without needing to share it with the eyes, ears, and tongues of Dún Beithe.”

“Yes, but the news you’ve brought me about her isn’t
shameful and it’s only brought me joy. Why would I want to conceal it?”

His shoulders rose and fell slightly. “Not conceal, savor! Keep it to yourself for a little while before you have to share it. That’s what
I
like to do.”

I was so elated by what he’d told me that I didn’t bother replying,
“Yes, but
I
am not
you.
”
He’d meant well. Perhaps Conchobar wasn’t the most irritating boy I’d ever met after all. I regretted having judged him too harshly and put away my sling.

“Maybe next time you have a message for me, you could find a subtler way to take me aside and deliver it,” I said with a warm smile.

“Next time?”

“I want to send word back to Derbriu and I hope she’ll have more to say to me. When her baby’s born—”

“What do I look like, a
sliotar
ball to be knocked back and forth between you?” he protested. “I’m lord of the Ulaidh! I have more important things to do. Find your own messenger, Lady Maeve.” A slow, insinuating grin crept across his lips. “Or find a way to reward this one. Make it worth my while to ride between Emain Macha and Dún Beithe as often as you command.”

So much for having misjudged Conchobar.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to take the great lord of Emain Macha away from his responsibilities,” I said demurely. “I’ll do as you suggest and find someone else to carry my words to my sister and hers to me.”

“Oh.” Conchobar’s whole body sagged. “You know, I
might’ve spoken too quickly. I wouldn’t mind doing that for you if I ever happen to ride here some other—”

“No, thank you. I’d hate to be in your debt, especially since I’d never repay it to your satisfaction.” I spoke as sweetly as I knew how, on purpose.

“Lady Maeve, forget what I said about making it worth my while,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to leave you thinking ill of me when I leave Dún Beithe. I can’t promise to come here as often as I’d like, but once the winter’s gone, after the great Beltane gathering at Tara, I’ll be free to keep your ties with Lady Derbriu as tight as you please!”

I considered turning him down again, even though I had every intention of accepting his offer. Then I thought,
Why would I do such a mean-spirited thing, teasing him just to see him squirm? Even if I’ve got the power to keep him dancing to my tune, I don’t need to prove it.

“Thank you, Lord Conchobar,” I said. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Milady, leave
Lord
Conchobar at Emain Macha to rule the Ulaidh.” His high spirits were back as fully as though he’d never known a moment’s disappointment. “When I come here, I’m only Conchobar the willing messenger.”

I laughed. “And I’m Maeve to you from now on, though Lady Lassaire might not like it. She’s very strict about respecting status.”

“I know someone else who won’t like it.” The rascal flashed his teeth. “But Lord Kian can console himself by teaching that bird of his some new tricks.”

“Kian’s my friend. Nothing between you and me will change that,” I told him.

“Maybe not yet,” he murmured, but when I asked him to
repeat it, he pretended he hadn’t spoken at all. I chose to let it pass.

“I should join the other girls,” I said. “I’m sure the rumors about you and me are already kindled, but I don’t want to give them any more fuel.”

Conchobar pulled himself up to his full, imposing height. “I will swear that I dropped you as soon as we were out of the great house and that I went straight to look after my horse. We were never together and for all I know, you scampered away to avoid your lessons. If anyone dares to contradict that, I’ll strip off his skin and weave it into a belt!”