Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (22 page)

C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN

The Wolfhound’s Ghost

I
T WAS A
joke. They told me so the next morning. All of them said they were sorry and begged me to forgive them, even Gormlaith, who had slept through the whole thing.

I thought that was odd, but I didn’t dwell on it. I was still shaken by what had happened. They gave me the opportunity to rush back to the way things were before last night’s attack, and I grabbed it.

“I’d never want you to be angry with me, Maeve,” Bryg said when I forgave her and the others. All four of us were seated on a long bench outdoors, sewing new dresses for the warm weather to come. It wasn’t a task that needed Lady Lassaire’s instruction, so we worked unsupervised.

“I was,” I admitted. “But we’re past that now.”

“Good. I was afraid you’d run crying to Lady Lassaire over a ridiculous jest that got out of hand. I’m so glad you’re not such a weakling.” She leaned her head on my shoulder in an affectionate way. “You’re my
friend
, Maeve. Do you know how
important that is to me? I’ve been without anyone like you or the other girls for such a long time! The healers of Avallach were kind to me, but it wasn’t the same as having friends.”

As soon as she said
healers
, I thought of Odran, and my breath caught in my throat. Had she seen him? His father was determined to make a druid out of him, though Odran told me the only aspect of that arduous training that appealed to him was the chance to learn more ways to help the sick and wounded, animals as well as people.

I had seen too many days pass without any news about him. Sometimes it broke my heart. If the sky matched the exact shade of his eyes, if the flash of a crow’s wing in flight reminded me of his shining black hair, I lost myself in tears. Sometimes it terrified me. I’d take refuge in dreams of our sweet, gentle kisses, only to have them jolted aside by memories of the intense, fiery sensation of Conchobar’s lips on mine.

Sometimes I felt resigned to it. I told myself,
Our paths have parted forever. His training will take years and years to finish. If I wait for him, how will he know? And even then, would he wait for me? No, I have to believe it’s over. If I keep looking backward, I can’t see the way ahead.

What sensible thoughts! Then Bryg mentioned Avallach and they blew away like bits of straw. Avallach … Odran … the smallest wisp of a chance she’d met him and could tell me how he was—I had to grasp it.

“What was it like on Avallach?” I asked, doing my best to sound only mildly interested. “Is it like Èriu?”

“Oh no, it’s
much
smaller. You can walk from one end to the other in a day. The druids have their settlement in the south, not too far inland from Lord Diarmaid’s stronghold on the coast.”

“It’s hard to picture a whole community of nothing but druids,” I said. “How do they feed themselves?”

Bryg chuckled. “The same way your exalted father, the High King, feeds himself, silly! They make other people fear them enough to give them all they want—everything from cloth to cattle. Who needs to plow and sow and harvest when bread appears by magic? Who needs to step in piles of cow manure when milk and meat are simply
there
for you?”

It pained me to hear her. I didn’t see Father as my perfect hero anymore, but all the ways he’d hurt me didn’t change the fact that he was no parasite. He worked hard for the good of our people. And how could she speak so against the druids? It would have been malicious coming from anyone’s lips, but it sounded like the worst ingratitude when it came from a girl who owed her renewed sanity to the people she defamed.

“You know they do more than make demands,” I said. “Their healing lore alone is worth—!”

“You’re defending them so
passionately
, Maeve.” The bard’s daughter showed her teeth. “Are you hoping to claim Master Cairpre for your next lover?” Dairine and Ula burst into belly-clutching glee, imagining me paired with Dún Beithe’s elderly druid.

“I never saw them demand gifts, but you’d have to be stupid not to know it’s true,” Bryg replied indifferently. “I spent my time there far from the heart of things. Their settlement’s spread out, a hodgepodge of huts scattered in a clearing, with a few of them tucked among the trees. There’s a great house, of course, and a sacred space nearby for the seasonal rites, but—you won’t believe this, Maeve—there’s no wall! Nothing surrounds them but the forest.”

“No wall?” I repeated. “How do they protect themselves?”

“What do they have to protect?” She shrugged. “If any raiding party did swoop down on them, what would they find worth taking? They don’t keep their own herds. They have no treasures. The best a marauder could do would be to round up all the lads who study there and sell them for slaves.”

I took shallow breaths, creeping gradually closer to my quarry. “Ah, so it’s a place of healing
and
learning. All the boys at Cruachan were going to be warriors. I never met one who wanted to be a druid or a bard.” That was no lie, since Odran had no desire of his own to follow his father’s path. “Tell me more about—”

Bryg sat up straight and put space between us. “I’m not surprised. Lord Eochu wouldn’t encourage any lad to share my father’s art. That would mean he’d have one less sword to serve him. He might fear the bards—as he should!—but respect them?” Her laugh was as sarcastic as her face.

“That’s not true,” I said hotly. “When Lord Morann took our bard, Devnet, hostage, Father was willing to do anything to save him.”

“I know.” Her eyes narrowed. “Lord Kian told me.” She turned to the other fosterlings, who were all seated close enough to hear our every word. “It was such a wonderful story, especially the part where
you
saved the day. I had to share it with my friends, just to see if any of them believed it.”

Ula and Dairine tittered. Gormlaith kept her eyes on her needle. Bryg noticed that the plump girl wasn’t joining in.

“You remember how you reacted, don’t you, Gormlaith?” she crooned. “Let Maeve hear what you said when I told you how Lord Kian praised her bravery and cleverness.”

“I—I don’t remember.” Gormlaith’s thread tangled.

“But you must! Maeve is waiting. You can’t disappoint the High King’s daughter.”

“Bryg, leave her alone,” I said. It was a warning.

“Why are you using
that
tone with me? You sound ready to pick up a sword and cut me down. All I did was ask Gormlaith an innocent question. She doesn’t
have
to answer.” So Bryg said, but a block of wood could tell what she really meant.

Gormlaith knew she had no choice. “I said—I said it sounded like another of those tales that made you shine like a goddess, someone much too good to mix with ordinary girls like us. I—I—I said it wasn’t enough for you to be prettier than Ula and able to attract men more easily than Dairine and—and do
everything
better than me. Now you had to fill Lord Kian’s head with impossible stories.”

“You mean lies,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm.

“At least they’re entertaining,” Ula said. “You have a talent for weaving tales, Maeve. Bryg, did your father ever meet a
female
bard? Princess Goosefoot could have a fine future doing that.”

“She’ll have to change her name,” Dairine said. “Farewell, Princess Goosefoot, and all hail Maeve Two-Tongues!”

I surged to my feet, poised to slap the hateful name from her mouth. The dress I’d been sewing tumbled to my feet, forgotten in the dirt. Bryg snatched it up and looped it over my raised arm, dragging it down with her full weight so that I lost my balance and fell. I felt someone drop hard onto my back. Another person sat on my legs, but I couldn’t tell who it was because I’d sprawled facedown.

“Let me up!” I shouted, struggling to kick free of them. It was useless and I knew it, but I refused to lie there without putting up some kind of a fight. “Get off me!”

“Ask nicely, Maeve Two-Tongues.” Bryg spoke as if I were a cranky child. “And swear you won’t try to hurt poor, innocent Dairine if we do release you.”

“Are all the girls of Connacht such awful brawlers?” Ula asked in her lofty way. “Or is it just Maeve?”

I braced my hands under my shoulders and made one huge, concentrated effort to roll sideways. I was beyond delighted when it worked. No bard’s song was sweeter than hearing Ula and Dairine squeal while Bryg yelled, “You worthless idiots, can’t you do
anything
right?” I didn’t linger to hear the next line of that tune. I was on my feet again, my skirt held high as I ran away.

I didn’t know where I was going, only that I couldn’t remain where I’d been.
If this is another joke, I’m not getting it
, I thought. I must have looked a sight, my dress filthy, my hair in tangles, my face smeared with grime and twisted into a grimace of misery.

Why did Bryg do that? One moment we were talking pleasantly about Avallach, the next she had her teeth in my throat and was driving the other girls to join her in the kill. Did the druids fail to heal her completely when she lost her mind over her brother’s death? Is this some remnant of that madness?
I ran on, my chest aching, my goal unknown. I began to sob, not from grief but from anger.
Bryg might have an excuse, but the others? Even Gormlaith? What did I ever do to them? I thought they were my friends!

I paid no attention to where I was going until a strong arm barred my way. “Lady Maeve?” Connla’s brows knit in concern as he looked me over. “What happened to you?” I collapsed against his chest, weeping. He stood there, awkwardly patting me on the back while a group of his fellow warriors drifted in around us.

I heard them murmuring guesses about what had turned me into the crumpled, tear-streaked, pitiable creature huddled in Connla’s arms. Some were offensive, some were absurd, and all were the new-laid eggs containing rumors with the power to make my future even worse than my present. I had to crush them in the shell.

I pulled away from Connla. He was visibly grateful to have me at arm’s length again. “Thank you, friend,” I said calmly, wiping my tears with the cuff of my gown. “Thank you for being so patient with me. Have you ever taken such a bad fall that you just lie there, afraid you’ve broken your bones? And even when you’re on your feet again, you can’t shake off the fear that you’ve done something to your insides that you can’t detect now, but that might shatter you later?”

“I know what she means,” one of the gathered men announced. “I had a cousin who fell out of a tree onto his head. He said he was fine and walked away steady as you please, but he was dead the next morning.”

“So that’s why you’re in such a state.” Now that the awful mystery of my wild sobbing was solved, Connla’s mind was at ease. He could take control of the situation. “Let’s take you to see Master Cairpre. He’ll say if that tumble you took did any lasting harm.”

I bowed my head demurely and let him lead me in search of
Dún Beithe’s druid. I felt a passing pang of guilt for bothering that wise man over nothing.
I never said that
I
fell
, I thought.
I only asked “Have you ever …?” Should I have told him what the girls did to me, even his beloved Gormlaith?
I mulled it over, then put aside the notion.
Not yet. Not until I learn why they’ve changed toward me so cruelly. If Bryg’s sickness is back, she’ll need healing, not punishment. I’m going to find out, and I’m going to stay strong until I do.

As expected, my visit with Master Cairpre was brief. The druid pronounced me in good health, if a little bruised, and cleaned a scratch on my cheek before sending me on my way. I went straight to Ea’s shelter, whisked off her hood, and found comfort in the blazing gold of her eyes.

“Come with me, beautiful lady,” I murmured, stoking her feathers with my fingertips. “Both of us need to breathe different air for a while.”

I picked up my armguard from the foot of her perch, and soon the two of us were through Dún Beithe’s gate and free. The guard on duty was one of the men who’d seen me weeping in Connla’s arms. He didn’t question my escape, merely saying, “Glad to see you looking better, milady.”

I raced down the ringfort slope and cast Ea into the sky as I ran. She flew high, carrying my spirit with her. I shared her wings, sailing far above the muck and confusion that was holding me down. There was no backbiting or insults or attacks in the kestrel’s boundless realm of sun and cloud and cleansing wind. No one could catch me, no one could hurt me, no one could make me doubt myself. I shouted Ea’s name as though hailing a victorious chief, a king whose enemies lay conquered at his feet, a—

No. Not a chief, not a king—a queen. A queen who stood in no man’s shadow, who ruled her land with the same skill, grace, and independence as Ea ruled the skies.

A queen who would be envied and derided, the target of edged words from those who failed to rise, so spent their lives pulling others down. A queen with the strength to strike their grasping claws aside, and if they did draw blood, with the courage to never let them see her cry.