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

If only I knew how to do it
, I thought.
By tomorrow all of those beady eyes will be on him. The one thing working in his favor is that Mother’s pack of she-hounds isn’t trained to hunt. They can’t shadow him; they’d make too much noise. What else might they do? Flirt with him so he’ll confess? Try to coax his secret out of him?

I imagined Guennola simpering at Odran, bringing her lips close to his ear, whispering endearments—

—and having her namesake stoat sink its teeth into her chin. I pictured her with the stubborn little beast clinging there like a long, skinny beard and laughed so hard my ribs ached.

I recovered to face a disturbing possibility.
Our fosterling girls aren’t hunters, and flirting with Odran won’t work, but what if they flirt with someone who
is
a hunter? A
good
one?
There were any number of young men under our roof who fit that description and who would willingly trade their tracking skills for kisses and the promise of more.

I have to tell Odran. I have to tell him
now.
Tonight, at dinner, before his father stirs up the usual brawl and he’s sent to their sleeping chamber. He must be alerted to what’s going on behind his back
.

I decided to repeat the trick of waylaying him in the
doorway. As soon as our paths crossed, I’d take his arm and whisper everything he needed to know in order to safeguard his privacy.

It almost worked. Once again he greeted me as though he’d missed my company and couldn’t wait for the chance to enjoy a conversation. His false warmth didn’t fool me. I knew he was already plotting a way to escape me.

Fine, let him put the breadth of the whole house between us!
I thought.
But not yet. Until I have my say with him, he’ll stay to hear it—I’ll make sure of that
. I reached out to clutch his arm.

Guennola the stoat stuck its head out of the neck of his tunic and hissed at me. I jumped back, nearly treading on his fox’s paw. Odran chuckled. “I think she’s jealous of you,” he said.

“She can have you,” I grumbled. “I don’t want to sit next to you tonight, so you won’t need to bother summoning up an excuse to get away from me. I just want to tell you one thing, very important, that you need—”

“Aha, there’s a happy sight!” Father’s voice rang out from his place on the king’s bench. His good fortune had given him eyes as far-seeing as any falcon’s. My bad luck made him turn them in our direction before I could tell Odran what he needed to know. “They make a handsome couple, don’t they, Master Íobar?”

Odran’s father made a sour face. “You flatter my boy too much, Lord Eochu. He would never dare to set his sights on your child. She’s destined for a king’s bed.”

“So you say, but can your arts let you foresee which king will be worthy of my Maeve?” Father drank deep from his cup of beer. “She’s already rich in her own right, and I won’t let my
dearest girl go to her husband without adding much more to what she holds. In fact, it might make more sense for her to stay here and wed a man who’d come to her.”

What is Father doing?
Every word he spoke to Master Íobar made me cringe. It was the old story:
I’m being dangled before that man like a bit of meat to tempt a hound. If Father would even
consider
having me marry anyone less than a prince or a famous warrior, why Odran? What is this game?

Whatever it was, Master Íobar was as loath as I to play along.

“Odran’s future is the only one I know,” he said. “It’s an enviable one. Any intelligent boy would desire it and work with all his heart toward achieving it. Perhaps we could exchange tasks, O King. I’ll find the right royal mate for your youngest girl and you’ll convince my stone-headed son to apply himself to his lessons.”

Father stroked his chin, mulling over the druid’s words. “That’s not a bad idea. He could be fostered here and study with Master Niall and Master Owain. It would save you the journey to Avallach, but—”

“My lord, forgive me, I spoke too lightly.” Master Íobar’s grizzled brows made a shape like a down-thrusting spearhead between his eyes. “My son cannot consider marriage until after he has completed his studies and become my colleague. Learning must be his one love. It was that way for me and I know that Master Owain and Master Niall will attest to it being the same for them.”

He looked at the two druids who served us at Cruachan. Both nodded in agreement with their brother. “There will be time enough for such things after he achieves his goal,” Master
Owain intoned solemnly. “I lost nothing by being patient and putting learning ahead of wedding.”

A handful of Father’s favored warriors heard this and snickered among themselves. Everyone under our roof knew that white-haired Master Owain had been forced to take a local cowherd’s young daughter for his wife because all his offers of marriage to wellborn women were rejected. It was an honor to be a druid’s wife, but when that druid was as old as the lady’s father, it became an honor easily refused. We’d all heard Master Owain’s bride weeping herself to sleep every night from Lughnasadh to Beltane. In time, she seemed to accept her fate and showed the world a smiling face. In a little
more
time, she also showed the world a baby boy who looked very much like Fechin, Father’s chariot driver.

A baleful stare from Mother silenced the young men’s amusement. “Can finding mates for our children wait until after we’ve eaten?” she asked, putting bite into the question. There was a general rumble of agreement, especially from our chief cook and his helpers. As they began ladling portions out of the huge cauldron of stew on the fire, an air of happy, hungry anticipation settled over the hall.

“I have to take my place, Maeve,” Odran murmured, moving away from me. “I’m sorry I can’t sit with you, but Father would see it the wrong way if we remain together. You heard him.”

“But, Odran, all I want is—” He was away before I could finish the sentence. I was left giving my warning to the air.

I had a bad dinner. It wasn’t the food, but the frustration. Half my stomach burned with annoyance because I’d failed to caution Odran that when tomorrow came, he’d be the girls’
quarry. The other half tied itself in knots because I couldn’t help thinking it would serve him right if they caught him. All of it was made worse by knowing that I’d missed the opportunity to speak with him before dinner. Would I be given another chance to warn him in time?

Pride and pity are not good mealtime companions. They stole my appetite and left me glumly picking at my food.

Father noticed. “What’s ailing you, my spark? Come sit beside me and share some of my portion.”

I went to him gladly. There was something deeply comforting about leaning against him and knowing that every bit of that strong body and brave spirit was devoted to my protection.

Even when you don’t want to be protected?
The wayward thought flicked through my mind, there and gone. It stayed as briefly as the glint of sunlight on a honeybee’s wing, but that was time enough for it to do its work.

Father loves me, but he sees no difference between holding me out of harm’s way and holding me on a tether. Master Íobar is worse. He’d tie Odran to him hand and foot if he could. And now Mother’s helping him
.

My eyes narrowed. Whatever knots they tried to use to bind that gentle, kind, infuriating boy, I would be the knife that gave him back his liberty.

Master Íobar’s voice rose over the level of common conversation in the hall. “There he goes again,” Father muttered. “Why doesn’t he try governing his son at some other time than dinner? It puts me off my food.” He promptly gave this the lie by stuffing a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewing vigorously. He swallowed, smacked his lips, and added, “I gave them a sleeping chamber of their own. He could flay the boy’s ears
in private,
after
we’ve all had a pleasant meal, but that wouldn’t suit our venerable guest. He likes an audience.”

“Be quiet, Eochu. He’ll hear you,” Mother reprimanded him.

“Pfft!”
Father blew a scornful breath through his lips. “Where have you been all this time, my love? You know that once that fellow’s started his attack, he doesn’t hear anything but the sound of his own voice telling the lad what a rotten son he is.”

“Right,
that’s
going to make the boy eager to change.” Fechin spoke up from his place nearby. He kept his voice pitched discreetly low. “I know that when
I
want a new horse, I just pick out a pig and beat it until it grows a mane.”

I giggled.

“Who wants to bet how long it will be before he sends the boy to their chamber tonight?” Another one of Father’s men turned to Devnet. “Master Bard, I wager this bronze brooch of mine that if you begin the tale of how Aengus loved the swan-maiden Caer Ibormeith, young Odran will be sent off before you reach the point where the god first sees the lady.”

“And I say it will happen before that, while you’re still describing how handsome the god appeared,” Fechin chimed in, stripping one of his gold bracelets from his arm as his stake. Other men sidled nearer, all wanting to take part in the game.

This talk of how soon Master Íobar’s rage would boil over gave me an inspiration. I leaned heavily against Father’s arm and whimpered.

“What is it, dear one?” he asked tenderly. “You can’t be ill, can you? You were just now laughing at Fechin’s wit.”

“It’s nothing, Father,” I said in a piteous voice. “It’s only
that I’d like to leave.” I didn’t lie, though a finicky judge might argue that I used misdirection to dodge telling the full truth.

“Do as you please, darling,” he said, patting me on the head. “Go to your chamber and rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

I kissed his cheek and left the circle of light cast by the central cook fire. I heard Mother urgently asking Father what was ailing me and likewise heard him assure her that it was no more than some minor touch of stomach trouble. Then their voices were engulfed by the overall ebb and flow of conversation, slashed through here and there by Master Íobar’s customary berating of his son.

I know
that
tone. It won’t be much longer
. I was certain that if I’d stayed and joined in the betting about the moment of Odran’s banishment, I’d win.
I must move quickly
. With one backward glance to make sure no eyes were following my retreat into the shadows, I slipped into the sleeping chamber I sought.

Odran’s room was almost fully dark. The only light was what leaked in at the edges of the hide curtain shielding the doorway. I moved cautiously, unfamiliar with the placement of the bed and our guests’ possessions. I didn’t want to stumble or, worse yet, knock over anything that might make noise and bring someone to investigate. By laying my hand flat against the wall and shuffling my feet as I went along, I was able to locate the bed. The thick layer of dried grass under the cloth covering released a sweet scent when I sat down. A pungent, animal reek slowly overwhelmed it.

What
is
that smell?
I wondered, covering my nose and mouth
with one hand.
It’s not the stench of waste—Mother would skin any beast who soiled her house and take its master’s head for good measure. Ugh. Whatever it is, I hope I won’t be trapped here with it for much longer
.

My wish for a short wait in the dark was granted. I heard a sudden roar from the hall—Master Íobar losing his temper, no doubt—and then the sound of footsteps coming closer. Their brisk approach was accompanied by the lighter, quicker pace of Muirín’s trotting paws.

I bit my lip. What if the fox outdistanced its master, found me first, and attacked? That was what our household watchdogs were trained to do when surprising interlopers. Who knew if Odran had taught his pet to do the same? I shuddered, already feeling the sting of those sharp little teeth, and began groping in the unfamiliar dark for anything I might use to fend off the animal harmlessly.

All that my blindly searching fingers could find was the bedcover. I pulled it up around me, covering my head and swathing my face so that only my eyes were visible.
Bite me now, Muirín, and you’ll get a mouthful of wool
, I thought smugly just as the hide door was pulled aside and a wedge of firelight fell over me.

“What— Who—” Odran’s startled voice resounded loud as thunder to me.

“Hush, oh please,
hush
!” I whispered desperately, letting the bedcover drop away, revealing my face. Better a fox’s bite than discovery. “It’s me—it’s Maeve.
Shhh!
”

He let the door fall closed behind him. I heard him make his way toward me with the confidence of knowing precisely where to walk without accident. The dried grass crunched as he landed heavily beside me.

“Maeve, what are you doing here?” He spoke so quietly that he was nearly inaudible. Every word sounded taut enough to snap at his next breath. “If my father finds you here—”

“He won’t. Just listen to me and then I’m gone. When you leave Cruachan tomorrow, be on the alert. Mother has offered a reward to any of her girls who can find out where you go every day. If they fail to do it themselves, they might bribe some of the boys to dog you. Luck be with you.” I rose to leave.

“Wait.” His hand closed on my wrist. “Tomorrow, come to the willow by the stream, the place we met. I have something to tell you too.”

I pulled my hand away roughly. I left him there in the darkness, without a yes or no.

My own room welcomed me. I fell onto the bed, grateful that my escapade had gone undetected by the adults still eating and drinking in the hall. I heard Devnet’s clear, powerful voice raised in song and regretted that my false illness would keep me from being present to enjoy the bard’s performance. It was a shame, but there would be other times and other songs to delight me. Tonight I’d been able to fulfill my self-imposed task and that would have to be satisfaction enough.

I’ve done what I can for you, Odran
, I thought.
Whether or not you were worth the trouble, I warned you and now I can be finished with you
. With that, I fell into a sleep so deep that I should have remained abed until long after sunrise.