Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (29 page)

I had a second shot cradled and spinning over my head as I shouted, “The next one takes your eye!”

Fergal stood staring at me for as long as it took to draw two breaths. His glance darted to where he’d dropped the spear. I
could almost read his thoughts as he weighed the odds of killing me before I killed him. He stooped to grab it and I braced myself for what I’d have to do. His words echoed in my head, mocking me:
There’s gratitude for you!

He ran away.

I saw it, but I couldn’t accept the evidence of my eyes. I watched him turn tail and sprint off, leaving me safe, soaked, and stunned. I continued to twirl the sling overhead for longer than I needed to, unaware that I was doing it. When I finally let it drop to my side, I felt as if I’d awakened from a dream.

“Ea,” I said. The sound of my own voice startled me. I looked at my hands. They were trembling. “I have to find Ea,” I said aloud, as though testing my surroundings for other hidden dangers. Did I expect that lurking outlaws would reveal themselves when they heard me speak? I think I did, even though it made no sense. My mind was acting on its own, diverting me from imagining what my fate might have been if I’d never learned how to defend myself.

Scanning the flat terrain, I saw a small, dark shape that I hoped was my abandoned traveler’s bag. I minded my steps as I went back to reclaim it, then searched the sky for Ea. My kestrel had grown tired of the hunt and was hovering near. I had her on my wrist and hooded without further trouble and resumed our road to the sea.

“There it is, lass: Avallach.” The boatman pointed to a thin line of land on the horizon. He spoke my language with a strange accent. I’d met him while he was bidding farewell to his wife and children on the shore below Lord Diarmaid’s ringfort. His
wife was the one who noticed how intently I was staring at the shallow-bottomed trading vessel riding at anchor and asked me why.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied from my place in the prow of the ship. Ever since that frightening encounter with Fergal, I’d been leery of men. It took every fiber of my determination to see Odran again to force me aboard the boat where I’d be alone with this stranger for who knew how many days.

“Not such a bad crossing. The wind was with us. That bird of yours must be a good-luck token. I could use her help when I sail on to Albion and Gaul. Don’t suppose you’d think of trading it to me?” he asked good-naturedly.

“I can’t part with her.” I tensed, readying myself in case he heard my refusal as an invitation to take what I wouldn’t give.

He saw my reaction and shook his head. “All right, all right, no need to fear. I wasn’t serious. I don’t mean you or the bird any harm. You poor girl, my wife said you must’ve run into bad times on the road to be so skittish around a broken-down old ox like me. And yet here you are! I’ve heard that the greatest heroes ain’t the ones without fear but those who march on even when they’re terrified of what’s in store.”

“If that’s true, I must be the bravest person on earth,” I said with a wobbly smile.

He grinned back at me. “Not while I’m alive. Who knew that a Roman brat who marched with the legions would find himself riding the seas between Gaul and Hibernia, married to a terror of a woman, and burdened with a household full of screaming little horrors?”

I laughed, remembering how he’d lavished kisses on his mob of children before wading out to the ship. For the first
time since Fergal’s assault, I relaxed in a man’s company. “Perhaps I should change my mind and trade you this kestrel for one of them,” I suggested playfully.

“Oh, I couldn’t let you make such a bad bargain,” he replied. “You’re better off keeping the bird. It can feed itself, it can’t jabber your ears numb, and it won’t keep you up nights worrying about its future.”

“True, but she does leave droppings everywhere.”

“I thought you
met
my children.” We both chuckled.

The crossing to Avallach ended just as the sun was setting. My fears about spending the night in a strange man’s power were baseless—even more so since the boatman had proved to be a friend. I’d kilted up my dress to wade out to his ship when the voyage began, but when we anchored at my destination, I didn’t reject his offer to carry me ashore.

“Do you have a safe place to sleep?” he asked as he set me down.

“I’ll manage.”

He shook his head. “I’d be a bad trader if I didn’t look after my cargo. I know a leather maker who lives nearby. His wife and I—well, before the two of us settled down, we were … 
friends.
I have to sleep aboard to keep an eye on things and sail with first light, but I can take you to their place if you don’t mind a bit of stink.”

I flourished my skirt, still bearing the mark and smell of the bog. “Do I seem like the sort of person who can’t live with that?” I asked.

“Why do you think I didn’t mind how much space you put between us on my ship?” he replied.

The tanner and his family lived a healthy distance from the
rest of the settlement. A leather maker treats hides with urine, dung, and animal brains to make them pliable. Unavoidable spills contaminate the ground around a tannery, making it smell putrid. The reek of my ruined clothing was as noticeable to my hosts as the whiff of a burnt hair in the midst of a blazing forest.

The stains were another story. “What happened to you, dear?” the tanner’s wife asked solicitously as she gave me some bread and cheese for my dinner.

“I took a misstep into a bog.”

“And escaped it alive after sinking in
that
deep?” She indicated the telltale marks. “The gods must love you, saving you that way. Pity they didn’t show as much mercy to your dress and cloak. I never saw such good fabric.” She gazed at my garb with longing. “You know, I’m told I have a gift for getting dirt and muck out of things. Have to, living with
that
man.” She indicated her husband, who had joined their children in a knot surrounding Ea. The kestrel was perched on top of the woman’s loom. “If you don’t mind staying on with us a day or two, I could see about washing those garments for you.”

I thought about it, then said, “I have another idea.”

The next morning I left the leather maker’s hut wearing his wife’s best dress and cloak. They were old, a little shabby, and much too large for me, but they served their purpose. Though she wouldn’t be able to use my cast-off garb herself, the tanner’s wife was pleased with the trade. Once she scrubbed off the bog residue, her eldest girl would look splendid in my former clothes.

I hid in the shadow of an aged oak, my cheek pressed to the bark, and fixed my eyes on the modest house at the edge of
the druids’ settlement. A cool breeze brought me the scent of burning wood and roasting meat, though no smoke rose from the dwelling I watched. My hair hung down my back in a mass of curls still damp from the slapdash job I’d done of washing myself in a stream that crossed my path on the way. I knew I should have asked the tanner’s wife to help me have a proper scrub when we traded clothes, but I’d been too eager to reach my goal. It was good to feel fresh again, even if it wasn’t as thorough a cleansing as I would have liked. The pure, sweet water washed away the ghost of Fergal along with the stubborn stink of the bog. I was ready to find Odran.

It was almost sundown. Ea sat hooded on a branch a little above my head. I’d fed her the last of our meat before lodging her there, to keep her contented. I’d spent the daylight hours moving like a shadow through the trees surrounding the druids’ settlement, trying to see Odran without being seen. Careful spying let me observe the comings and goings of Avallach’s inhabitants until it became clear that this house was the only possible place he could be.

But what if he’s not there? I haven’t seen him anywhere in the settlement. Why would he spend the whole day indoors? Doesn’t he have lessons to attend? He’s been sick. What if he
—
?
A horrible fear poisoned my mind. I shivered and pushed it away.
No, he’s there, he
must
be! Maybe his illness left him too weak to go back to his studies just yet. O Flidais, merciful goddess, please let it be so! Sweet lady, if I’ve earned your blessing by helping heal the wild creatures you cherish, show me that my journey hasn’t been in vain, that Odran is—is—

A shape moved in the doorway of Odran’s house. A familiar figure stepped into the dying daylight. I nearly called his
name, but my breath caught in my throat and caution hissed in my ear,
Not yet, not yet! You don’t know if he shares that dwelling with anyone else. Stay calm. Wait.

I did. It was painfully hard. The inside of my head thundered with all the words I longed to tell him until my temples ached. I watched him take a path leading to the center of the settlement. He wasn’t steady on his feet, but at least he was walking. I squeezed my hands into fists and crossed them over my chest, holding myself back from dashing out of the woods and running after him.

Odran returned as the shadows lengthened. He carried a portion of bread and a bowl that I guessed contained his dinner. My stomach grumbled. As twilight fell, I peered at his doorway and saw a spark flash for a moment, followed by the mellow flicker and glow of an oil lamp. No one else approached the little house.

I placed Ea on my wrist, took a deep breath, and flew to reclaim my heart.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

Spark, Flame, Embers

“O
DRAN
?” I
STOOD
in the doorway of his house, the sun setting behind me.

He was seated on the bed, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. He leaned back slowly, his hands falling limp in his lap. “Fever,” he muttered, blinking. “Back again? I’ll have to brew more of Edana’s remedy.” He rose, swaying, and steadied himself against the wall. His eyes never left me.

“Odran, it’s me,” I said quietly. “Really, it is. See?” I crossed the room to where the oil lamp burned on a low table and let its light touch my face and the kestrel’s plumage. “I’ve brought Ea. She’s alive. I wanted you to see—”

“Maeve!”
My name tore from his throat. “Oh gods, this can’t be true. My mind’s been burned away. I swear that since I came here, I’ve seen you every time I close my eyes, and when the sickness held me, I saw you when I was awake as well. You, yes, and Ea, and my poor murdered Muirín, and Guennola, and—and—” He dropped to the floor, sobbing without tears.

I was with him at the speed of thought, one arm encircling his misery, the other still supporting Ea. “This is no dream,” I told him. “Listen, listen, hush, breathe, hear me. Please, Odran. Please, my dearest one.”

He pressed his face against my shoulder. His shining black hair held the clean scent of springtime leaves. I held Ea so that he could see her, and I took joy in watching his expression change from mourning to marvel when he brushed her feathers with his fingertips.

“She
is
alive,” he said.

“And Guennola too,” I told him. “Though I couldn’t catch her when I saw her.”

“I always believed that my pets could never return to living wild, but if any beast could, it would be her. Stoats are survivors.”

“So are kestrels,” I said. I kissed his brow. “So are we.”

I told him everything that had brought me to him, though I didn’t speak of Conchobar and Kian except as
I was blamed for bringing strife to Dún Beithe.
My near-drowning in the bog and my encounter with Fergal became
Sometimes it wasn’t an easy road, but here I am.
I wanted to shield him from further distress.

“All this way.” Odran held my hands tenderly, the lamplight dancing in his eyes. “You traveled all this way for me.” His words were soft with wonder. I had forgotten how sweet his voice sounded. I wanted to listen to its warm tones and gentle lilt forever.

“I thought you were deathly ill,” I said, my reply a hoarse whisper. We knelt facing each other on the beaten earth floor. Ea roosted unhooded on a sturdy piece of kindling that Odran
had lashed firmly to one of the upright timbers of the wall. A fire crackled in the small central hearth, making our shadows rise and fall.

“I was. I had a terrible fever and a heaviness in my chest that crushed every breath I tried to take. My teachers thought they’d lose me, but they kept trying different treatments. One worked.” His well-beloved smile brought more heat to my cheeks than any flame. “Either that, or I knew I had to live so that I could see you again.”

He cradled my face in his hands. I welcomed his touch. Something stirred deep in my body: a delicious shiver that spread through me, stealing my senses. How could I be gazing at him so steadily when my head was spinning? How could I hear him speak my name with so much love when I was deafened by my own racing heartbeat? How could I open my mouth to speak a single word when all I wanted was to taste his lips and lose myself in kisses and all that might follow?

We clung together desperately, as though we expected a sword to fall between us at any moment. We didn’t need to say what we both knew:
If I must part from you now, I will die.
I could not draw a breath that he did not share. Holding him, kissing him, loving him, I felt that I was teetering on the brink of a great secret: fearful, amazing, and overwhelming.