Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (35 page)

As I said, people see what they expect to see, and they tell themselves the stories they want to hear.

I approached Lord Artegal, took his hands in mine, and fell to my knees before him, much to his astonishment and dismay. “Forgive me, my lord,” I declared. “Forgive me for all the distress you’ve endured since I left Dún Beithe. You brought me into your home and treated me like a daughter. I’m sorry to think that you must have felt a father’s anguish after what happened. I would not have left if I could have stayed, but you must not—you
can
not blame yourself for any of it.” I regained my feet and let my gaze pass slowly over the kings, the warriors, and the druids as I told them all, “There are things that not even the most watchful guardian can prevent. Not every challenge can be settled by the sword. Sometimes we must gamble for our fate.” I gave them a victor’s grin. “Sometimes even the Fair Folk lose a wager.”

The lords of Èriu cheered. Father threw his arms around
me and shouted orders for a feast to be assembled at once. Men ran for their hunting gear and their horses. A minor lord whose stronghold lay close to Tara dispatched messengers to fetch additional supplies and the hands to cook and serve them. By the time all the preparations were in order, the scraps of truth I had tossed to the assembled nobles had been stitched into a fantastic tale that every bard would embroider with his own touches. The gist of it was that one of the Fair Folk became so enthralled by my beauty that he carried me away to the Otherworld against my will. He tried to woo me with Tír na nÓg’s eternal pleasures and to break my spirit with the threat of Tech Duinn’s grim shadow, but I resisted both. In the end I outwitted him by striking a bargain: we’d gamble with my freedom as the stakes. I won and he released me. That was all.

That night my father heaped Lord Artegal with treasure, praising him for keeping my disappearance a secret. “You meant to spare my feelings, old friend; I’m sure of it. You must have torn up all the countryside searching for my girl, striving to find her before I could hear she was gone.”

Lord Artegal looked flustered. “I—I felt responsible,” he said.

“Nonsense! What could you or any mortal man do against the Fair Folk’s magic?”

“That’s true, Father,” Kian said. “Do you remember that falcon of mine? He vanished at the same time as Lady Maeve! I’ll bet he was that Otherworld prince in disguise. He used his spells to learn she was coming to Dún Beithe, turned into a wounded bird, and put himself in my path so he could be waiting there for her when she arrived. He bided his time, and when he saw his opportunity he carried her off in his claws.
Oh, they’re a sly bunch, the People of the Mounds!” He hiccuped loudly, thanks to the same vast quantity of mead that had let him forget Ea was a female. I pictured myself dangling in midair from a little kestrel’s talons and nearly choked trying to smother my laughter.

Apparently the story of my abduction to the Otherworld was like a tree that grew more robust with every fact-bearing limb that was lopped off. It flourished so vigorously that before I left Tara, I overheard a couple of Conchobar’s men saying what a brave girl I was to stand up to a lord of the Fair Folk and outwit him. They had traveled with me from Emain Macha for three days, yet here they were talking about my adventures as if such things had truly happened.

I wondered what Devnet would make of it. I couldn’t wait to hear.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-T
WO

Wings

T
HE NEXT MORNING
Father again called his subject kings together at the great mound. This gathering was as different from the first as mead is from mud. Spirits were high after the previous night’s celebration. I stood at Father’s side and scanned the crowd, seeking Kian and Conchobar. I’d wanted to speak to them at the feast, but Father kept me all but chained to his wrist from the moment we were reunited.

“Stay close, my spark,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you so much, and now I fear that if you take one step away from me, the portal to the Otherworld will open and the Fair Folk will claim you once more.”

“You can’t keep me within arm’s reach forever, Father,” I said gently but firmly.

“I know, I know.” He shook his head. “But just for now”—he gazed at me with pleading eyes—“humor me?”

My heart was touched; I let him have his way, though it meant delaying my business with Kian and Conchobar. I owed
thanks to the young king of the Ulaidh, and I needed to talk to Kian about my future at Dún Beithe. He had to know that if I returned to fosterage, I’d want his help as a friend
—only
as a friend—to settle matters between me, Bryg, and the other girls.

I spotted Kian easily that morning. He and Lord Artegal were in the front rank of the assembled men. Conchobar stood farther back, staying a prudent distance from my father. I was silently debating which one of them to approach first when one of Tara’s druids called for the crowd’s attention to hear what the High King had to say.

“My brothers, from this day we are allied by more than loyalty and honor.” Father gave the men his most winning smile. “We are bound to each other by the marvel we witnessed together on Tara’s holy ground: my daughter’s escape from the Otherworld!” He beamed at the loud cheers that greeted his words. “I have always known her merit, her cleverness, and her courage, but what father
doesn’t
think his child is destined for great things?” He chuckled, and his audience answered with a ripple of appreciative laughter. “What we saw here proves that my Maeve is worthy of much more than just a father’s fond words. Lord Artegal! Come forward, you and your son!”

Both men found themselves clasped in the High King’s arms. He released them only to strip himself of every ring and bracelet he wore, heaping their hands with gold. He refused to hear their thanks.

“You will have more riches as soon as I return to Cruachan, I promise. Forgive me, but all of it won’t be enough to make up for the treasure you’re about to lose.”

“Lord Eochu—?” Lord Artegal struggled to keep his voice steady.

Father smiled. “I mean my daughter.”

I tensed. My time at Dún Beithe had not been easy to bear, but it was
my
choice to go there,
my
choice to stay. If Father intended to take me back to Cruachan now, I’d have to fight for my freedom all over again.

I forced a loud laugh. “Dear Lord Artegal, how unhappy you look,” I said. “I’d look ten times as sad if I thought my father were serious about tearing me from your care. What an insult that would be! He’d never dishonor you so.” I knew I was playing a chancy game, but I had to try.

To my relief, Father put one arm around me and the other around Lord Artegal. “My spark speaks the truth. I’m not
taking
Maeve from your fosterage; I’m
giving
her a realm of her own.”

My jaw dropped as my ears filled with the clamor of Èriu’s assembled lords. It took the druids of Tara several tries to restore order and let Father continue speaking.

“Friends, there are times when even an ordinary man can read the will of the gods. If my girl has proved she has the courage, strength, and wit to save herself from captivity in the Otherworld, it would be a great shame not to let her use those skills for our people. I’m giving her a share of Connacht to rule as she chooses.” He turned his gaze to the assembly. “All of you, witness that I swear this by the holy stones of Tara! If any man wants to dispute my decision or Lady Maeve’s merit, let him say so now.”

No one spoke. No one wanted to die.

“And what if
I
challenge you?” I asked abruptly.

“You, my spark?” It was Father’s turn to be startled. “Don’t you want—?”

“Oh, I do! But on this condition: that if I can’t bring my people justice and prosperity, I’ll return your gift and go back to Lord Artegal’s fosterage with no objections from you or any other man.”

Kings, warriors, and druids all made the sacred mound of Tara shake with their accolades. They stamped the ground, thundering, “Lady Maeve! Lady Maeve!” And if some chose to hail me as
Queen
Maeve—? They were entitled to that choice.

I was entitled to smile.

I couldn’t take possession of my new realm until I had a well-fortified stronghold from which to rule. Father promised to provide this, so while he dispatched men and supplies for the task, I went back to Dún Beithe to pack my possessions and say goodbye. Devnet the bard joined me, vowing that since he’d escorted me to Lord Artegal’s stronghold when I entered fosterage, he’d do the same when I left. Who would dare tell a bard no?

I must admit, I didn’t go to Dún Beithe just to make my farewells. I had much more than that to say to Ula, Dairine, Gormlaith, and especially Bryg. I wasn’t certain exactly
how
I’d confront them, but they all needed to know that what they’d done to me—and before me to poor, lost Aifric—must never happen to anyone ever again.

That’s a fine thought, a good intention
, I mused.
But how to give it teeth? How to make them do more than smile and nod and claim that they’ll change their ways and then, once I’m gone, mock me and change nothing? Kian might be willing to help, but if they
wanted
to outwit him
—I shook my head.
Bryg alone could do that easily. Kian’s not the answer.
The problem preoccupied me all the way back to Dún Beithe.

I was met with the warmest of welcomes from Lady Lassaire, of all people. She knew all about what had happened at Tara thanks to swift-riding messengers, and she no longer saw me as the ungrateful brat who’d refused betrothal to her precious Kian. Now I was the valiant girl who’d cheated the Otherworld in time to save his life and her husband’s.

“Lady Maeve, dearest one, this house is yours!” she exclaimed when she greeted me at the ringfort gateway. At every third step from there to the great house, she removed another of her gold or silver ornaments to give to me, even her torque. I didn’t want to accept, but I had to do so or offend my host.

“Come, you’ll sleep here.” She led me to a curtained chamber as far as possible from the room I’d shared with Ula, Dairine, Gormlaith, and Bryg. I had it all to myself. I still wasn’t sure about how I’d deal with my former tormentors, so I was glad to have a refuge where I could gather my thoughts before seeing them again.

A
temporary
haven
, I reminded myself as I put on a fresh dress.
I’m going to see them the moment this household gathers for dinner tonight.

I was wrong. They weren’t at dinner. Lady Lassaire had ordered a feast that lacked nothing except the presence of her fosterlings. I’d be lying if I said that I missed them. It was such
a nice reprieve to be able to enjoy the mead and meat and merriment of that celebration without having to look at those girls!

Tomorrow will be time enough for that
, I thought happily as I sat in a place of honor between Lord Artegal and Kian.

But tomorrow dawned with no sign of them at breakfast, or at the midday meal, or at a second lavish feast that night, or at any other time. A third day came and went, the same as the ones before, with not even a glimpse of Ula, Dairine, Gormlaith, or Bryg. By that time I was no longer concerned about
how
I’d deal with them but
if
I’d get the chance to confront them at all.

“Are they still here?” I asked Kian when I could stand it no longer.

My question puzzled him. “Where else would they be?”

“I don’t know. Banished by your mother? She didn’t do enough to control them when they were plaguing me, but now? She might have done too much.”

Kian shook his head. “I know she did no such thing. They’re still here. After how they treated you, why do you want to see them?”

“I have to,” I said. “There are things I need to say to them, but I’m afraid they won’t give me the chance. You’re the one who told me how skilled Bryg is at hiding, even inside these walls.”

“I could ask some of our warriors to track down and fetch them for you,” Kian offered. “Just give the word. Or you could just march into their room in the middle of the night and take them by surprise. They couldn’t escape you then, and no one in this household would dare object. After all”—he smiled shyly—“you can do what you like now that you’re a queen.”

“That’s not the kind of queen I’m going to be. All I’ll ask is that you spread the word that I want to see them.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He rubbed the back of his head and looked doubtful. “But I can’t promise it will work.”

On the last day of our stay, I sat listening to Devnet’s newest creation, his version of my adventures among the People of the Mounds. As always, he was brilliant, but I failed to give his fine voice and dancing words their proper attention. Kian’s efforts on my behalf seemed to have come to nothing. Bryg and the others still eluded me. The shadow of unfinished business would haunt me when I left Dún Beithe.

“Well, Princess?” my father’s bard asked when he finished his song. “What did you think of that?”