Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (17 page)

“If that’s your only fear, you can help me rid you of it, my lady,” Fintan replied.

“Help you?” Lady Lassaire’s blue eyes grew enormous. “How?”

“Hear me patiently, please: we bards are masters of a thousand magics, but we sometimes don’t know how to end a story. The hero may triumph or die or marry or any combination of the three, but what happens when his tale refuses to stop so neatly? Why don’t we bards ever share the secrets of what comes after the feasting or the funeral or the first morning when man and woman wake up together, gaze into each other’s eyes, and wonder,
How in the name of all the gods did I get myself into
this
situation?
”

More laughter and one solitary cry of “She said her brother would break my head if I didn’t marry her!” answered
that
question.

“My lady, you must help me weave the end of this tale,” the bard went on. “It began when you opened your home to my daughter. You took responsibility for her education and upbringing, even though she wasn’t nobly born. The child of a mere bard, raised alongside the children of kings! Can I ever repay you for that?”

“You mustn’t say such things, I beg you! It was my greatest pleasure.” Lady Lassaire was under Fintan’s spell. She looked ready to give him a slice of the moon, if that was what it took to hold his notice. “Bryg never gave me a moment of trouble. You see how much the girls missed her!”

“I do.” Fintan gazed benevolently at his daughter, rescued
from her perch and jealously guarded by Dairine and Ula once again. “And I mourn the—the ill-fated circumstances that forced me to take her away from them. I acted for her health’s sake, but it broke the bond of fosterage. Now that she is well again, I long to know the ending of her story, but I am not the one who has the right to create it.” He gazed at Lady Lassaire as if they were the only two people left in the world. “That power belongs to you.”

“Master Fintan, what do you mean?” Lady Lassaire chirped.

“He means, my dear wife, that he would like Bryg to come back into our care,” Lord Artegal said, chuckling. “He knows that I can’t say no to a bard—no prudent man would—but he has to
woo
your consent.”

Her husband’s reply sent her into a flutter. She blushed, dimpled, giggled, and made Kian squirm to see it. Finally she said, “You didn’t need to waste your lovely words on a useless creature like me, Master Fintan. As far as I’m concerned, the bond was never broken. Bryg never left my care.”

The bard responded with a renewed outpouring of gratitude and flattery for his hosts. Dairine and Ula shrieked with glee, grabbed Bryg’s hands, and whirled in a circle until the bard’s daughter broke away from them to haul Gormlaith and me into their frenzied dance. Lady Lassaire began shouting commands to the servants, ordering a fifth bed for our sleeping chamber.

The day sped away with the swiftness of our mad dance. Rumor flew through the ringfort that the welcoming meal Dún Beithe’s chief cook improvised for breakfast would be nothing next to the true banquet we’d see served up for dinner. No extravagance was to be spared, even though the dark part
of the year was a time for measuring out our stores of meat and grain so they would last until the light came back again. Lord Artegal himself led a hunting party that would scour the woodland for deer and other game.

Lady Lassaire was so busy overseeing the preparations that we fosterlings were left to follow our own desires. I wanted to visit Ea, but Bryg insisted that all of us stay together. She led us to the top of the ramparts and took turns linking arms with each of us as we paced around the wall.

“I want each of you to tell me everything that happened since I went away,” she declared as she and Ula made the first circuit.

“That leaves me out,” I joked. “There are logs in the woodpile that’ve been at Dún Beithe longer than I.”

“The woodpile?” Dairine repeated. “Isn’t that where Lord Conchobar carried you?”

My face blazed.
How did she find out?

“Maeve, you’re
scarlet.
Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean that the two of you did anything shameful. I’m sure it was totally innocent.” Though Dairine spoke false words of comfort, she was visibly enjoying my embarrassment. “Bran’s the one who told me.”

“Who is he and how does he know
my
business?” I asked, a cold note in my voice.

She tried brushing off my anger. “Oh,
Maeve
, you know him: he’s one of Lord Kian’s friends, a sweet man who’s been taking an interest in me.”

“That narrows it down to half of Dún Beithe,” Ula remarked.

Bryg snickered and whispered something to the tall
red-haired girl that made both of them laugh until they doubled over.

Dairine gave them a dirty look. Her expression was so poisonous that for a moment it seemed she was contemplating shoving them over the edge of the ramparts. I thought it would be a good idea to distract her.

“Your admirer must be one of the People of the Mounds, Dairine,” I said. “Does he own a magic cloak that turns him invisible? I saw no one near when Lord Conchobar and I were talking.” I thought I heard Ula’s sarcastic whisper, “Oh,
talking
?” but disregarded her petty jab.

“You’re so funny, Maeve,” Dairine replied. “Bran was standing watch up here that day; that’s how he saw you without you seeing him. He was afraid I was attracted to Lord Conchobar so he told me about what he’d seen to discourage me. He wants me all to himself, the darling!”

Ula looked ready to say something malicious, but Bryg prevented it by breaking away from her and rushing to hug Dairine. “So you’re going to be the first of us to marry! Isn’t this exciting? I must meet your husband-to-be and congratulate him. Where can I find him? What does he look like? He has to know what a perfect bride he’ll have.”

Dairine hesitated. “That can wait,” she said. “We haven’t made any formal pledges yet.”

“But that’s wonderful! You can do it now, today, or tomorrow at the latest,” Bryg enthused. “I’m so glad I won’t miss seeing you promise yourselves to each other. Take us to him this very instant!”

“I—I’m not sure where he is right now.”

“Then it will have to happen at dinner, even if I
die
from
waiting.” Bryg pressed her pale cheek to Dairine’s flaming face. “Meanwhile, tell me everything about him. I’m so sorry I never paid attention to the names of Kian’s friends. Who is this Bran? Is he a fosterling or was he born to one of Dún Beithe’s subject lords? Who are his parents? Does he have any brothers or sisters?”

I listened to Bryg chatter on, showering Dairine with questions that sounded innocent enough until you understood what the bard’s daughter was really doing. It didn’t suit her to let Dairine cling to the lie that Bran cared about her enough for marriage. She was nothing special to him, and Bryg was a relentless huntress, intent on pursuing that harsh truth and forcing it into the open. Her every word made Dairine cringe and shrink into herself. It was frightening to watch.

I glanced at Gormlaith and Ula. They looked on calmly, not a trace of surprise or pity on their faces.
They’ve seen this before
, I thought.
Why don’t they put a stop to it? Dairine’s sometimes difficult to like, but she’s our friend! If they won’t say something, I will.

I scowled as fiercely as I knew how and stormed my way between them so that my back was turned to the bard’s daughter. “Never mind reciting every single boring detail about your
precious
Bran, Dairine,” I said. “I just want to tell him to his face that if he doesn’t learn to mind his own business, I’ll pull every last hair off his empty head and weave them into a gag to shut his mouth!”

Dairine’s jaw dropped. Ula and Gormlaith were equally stunned. I could only guess at Bryg’s expression, but judging from the absolute silence behind me, she must have been dumbstruck as well. I pressed my advantage.

“How
dare
he spy on Lord Conchobar and me?” I seized her hand. “We’re going to find him and settle this right now.” I spun around in a false fury and glared at the other three girls. “And we’re going
alone
,” I declared with such violence that none of them stirred so much as a finger when I dragged Dairine away.

I towed her after me into the shelter of the great house where I made her sit beside me at the hearthside. She was short of breath and thoroughly bewildered by what I’d just done.

“Maeve, if you want to talk to Bran, he’s probably out hunting with the others now, not in here.”

“All I
really
wanted was to get you away from Bryg and her endless questions. You looked ready to wriggle out of your skin.”

She stared at her feet. “You didn’t have to bother. She’ll just wait until she sees me again and pick up where she left off. She doesn’t give up when there’s something she wants.”

“Something like humiliating you?” It was hard for me to accept that the girl compassionate enough to save my Ea was also capable of such meanness.
This sounds bad, but I mustn’t judge her too soon. I hardly know her.

Dairine shrugged. “It was my fault. I never should have claimed that Bran and I were closer than we are. I should have remembered how much Bryg hates lies.”

So do I
, I thought.
But this one was small and harmless. Bryg was the one who turned Bran from Dairine’s special sweetheart into her promised husband. Why couldn’t she have let it go?

A notion came to me. “Dairine, I know a way we can fix this.”

Hope lit up her eyes. “How?”

“Keep yourself out of Bryg’s way until dinner and you’ll see.”

That evening the feast awaiting us was even more lavish than the rumors suggested. When Master Fintan left Dún Beithe, he’d have no choice but to praise the generosity of his hosts and glorify Lord Artegal’s reputation as an openhanded king. The air was filled with a dozen mouthwatering aromas. Fat sizzled as it dripped from a roasting goose, one of several the men had brought down. The savory scent of venison blended with it, for the hunting party had also been lucky enough to take four deer. All this was besides the preserved beef we had from thinning the herds at Samhain. No one would go to sleep hungry.

Dairine appeared at the hearth when the meal was well under way. She cast an uncertain look my way. I smiled and waved at her, which attracted Bryg’s notice.

“Where have you been since this morning, Dairine? You must sit here now so we can talk,” she called out, patting the bench beside her. When the black-haired girl hung back, the bard’s daughter frowned. “Are you snubbing me? Why are you being so unkind? I thought you were my friend!”

Lady Lassaire heard. How could she help it? Bryg knew the bard’s trick of pitching her voice so softly that it seemed like she was whispering, yet her voice still reached every part of the hall.

“Dairine, this is
not
how one of my girls acts toward another, especially not when we’re all so glad to have Bryg back again. Sit down beside her right—”

“There you are, beloved!” A broad-shouldered young man with spiked hair like Kian’s marched up to Dairine, flung his
arms around her, and kissed her so heartily that when their lips finally parted, they both gasped for air. “What do you mean, hiding yourself away from me all day? If I find out you were with some other man, I’ll feed his eyes to the Morrígan’s raven! Now tell me you love me and do it quickly; I want my dinner!”

“I—I—I—” Dairine regained control of her speech and said: “I love you, Bran.”

“Good. Now let’s share some of that fine venison.” He slid his arm around her waist and steered her to the far side of the hearth.

That night we fosterlings slept five in a room that had been a little snug when there were only four of us. We were as tightly squeezed as kernels in a pinecone, and the whole situation was made worse when I discovered that skinny little Bryg snored twice as loudly as Gormlaith.

As I was struggling to fall asleep, I felt a hand touch mine. “Maeve? It’s me.” Dairine crouched by my bed, a ball of shadow.

“What is it, Dairine? Is anything wrong?” I suspected she had an upset stomach. There were bound to be many of those after the huge meal we’d enjoyed, and for some folk the banquet was still going on. The shouts and laughter and singing of the most dedicated revelers’ celebration reached my ears from beyond the bull-hide door curtain.

“I just wanted to thank you,” she whispered. “Bryg’s not going to question me about Bran anymore, not after seeing how he treated me in front of everyone. Here, take this.” She pressed something cold and smooth into my palm. “It’s my brooch. I wish it were made of gold, not bronze, but I hope you’ll like it.”

I pushed the large pin back into her hand. “I’ll like it if you
keep it. If not, how will you keep your cloak fastened? Anyway, Bran’s the one you should thank, and you can do that by picking a quarrel with him as soon as possible.”

She giggled very softly. “I’ll do it in three days’ time. The whole household will know that it’s over between us, I promise. But tell me, how did you get him to agree to play my sweetheart?”

“Easy. I dared him to do it.”

“That was all it took?”

“He’s a warrior of Èriu, isn’t he?” I yawned, turned onto my side, and fell asleep.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN