Irish Moon (5 page)

The knock came, loud and abrupt, right on
time. Heremon opened the door without delay. He saw this final act
of answering straight away, his last act of courage. The man on the
other side was the only surprise amid the events that had been
foretold nearly forty years before.

Wordlessly, Heremon gestured the man to enter
and met the eyes of his fate unwaveringly.

Chapter Three

Two bards arrived that day and joined the
chieftain at his table as welcome. The night promised to be full of
new songs and poems, a preview of the performance they came to give
at Niall and Ula’s wedding feast.

The large hall was overwrought with guests
and residents dining, laughing and sharing. Excitement and welcome
permeated the room Breanne forced herself to enter gracefully into.
Not many noticed her entrance, a good sign. She released her held
breath after walking a few rods when she got no snicker or stare.
The room full of pointing, laughing family and friends she’d
envisioned gave way to an average, perhaps somewhat special
evening.

Rose’s waving hand caught her attention.
Breanne smiled. She gladly joined her best friend at the long
table. Ula and Niall weren’t likely waiting on her to join them
after this afternoon’s exchange.

“You’re just in time,
Bree,” Rose said. “Ryan has returned and will join
us
,
as well as
Quinlan.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

Already seated, Breanne forced herself to
smile. She chose unpleasantness here over mortified there, readily.
Besides, what could Quinlan do with so many surrounding them? It
wasn’t as though he could kiss her right there, paw away for all to
see. And he’d already given her the flowers. Oh damn and double
damn it. She’d left the flowers by the stream, hadn’t she?

The bump on her shoulder made her look up.
Quinlan grinned down at her sheepishly and gestured to the seat
next to her. Before she could protest, he took it.

“Good evening, ladies. You both look
beautiful this fine eve,” he said cordially, his gaze steady on her
face.

They thanked him and he
nodded and took
the
opportunity to absorb every visible inch of her with his
eyes, leaving her feeling bare and doubtless of his interest. When
his gaze flew back to hers she glared fiercely back. He blinked.
Interest fell away to blushing red cheeks and Breanne cursed
herself under her breath.

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Truly,
she didn’t. She simply wanted him to stop. It had been a reflexive
reaction. Damned guilt plagued her and Breanne found herself making
more than necessary friendly attempts to engage Quinlan into
conversation.

“Are you settling back in very well,
Quinlan?” she asked and speared a sweet meat with her knife from
the piled trencher.

“Oh, I would say he’s
happy to be home,” Ryan said behind them. “Why
,
he’s been skipping around like a
little girl, that one.”

Rose squealed in delight, jumped from her
seat and into her husband’s arms. She nearly knocked Breanne into
Quinlan’s lap in the process and they both went rigid with
embarrassment. Righting herself, as did he, Breanne waited for
another opportunity to make conversation.

She decided that if she kept on neutral
subjects--warm but very unromantic and definitely not flirtatious
by any stretch-- that he would perceive the underlying message.
Could they please be friends and not become desperate with
lovesickness?

“Have you decided whether you’ll hire onto
Niall’s guard or not?” she asked Quinlan while Ryan and Rose’s
reunion settled.

Quinlan looked at her strangely and
immediately Breanne realized her mistake, an additional blunder.
Her father had been Niall’s first warrior, the most elite of his
hired warriors, assigned to fight for and protect the king. He had
died doing it. And as honorable a death as it might be, Breanne had
a hundred times already told Quinlan that his living would have
been better.

Since childhood, she’d tried to dissuade
Quinlan of the idea and he, in turn, would press it on her. But,
that was before her feelings for him changed. Now, it seemed, since
he would not become her husband, any career should be a good choice
so long as he was happy.

Quinlan stood.

Breanne opened her mouth to try to take back
the callous sound her words took on in her mind and, so obviously,
in his, as well. But, what could she say? So sorry Quinlan, I
hadn’t thought that one out? I’m distracted with an ultimatum and
concern for my strangely behaving friend and mentor?

He walked away before a reasonable apology
came to her.

“What was all that, then?” Rose asked. Ryan
kept his arm around his wife, unhearing.

“I’ve said the wrong thing.” She put her
forehead into her hands. “Oh, Rose, I’m mucking things up good
today. Promise me you’ll forget every last thing I say today?”

Rose rubbed her back
sympathetically. “Always
,
Bree. Why, I’ll even forgive the pile of lies you
laid at my feet this afternoon.”

Breanne gasped and looked up.

“Don’t look so surprised. I have ears and
eyes.” Rose’s eyes twinkled and smiled reassuringly. “You don’t
have to tell me the truth of things unless you want. But, I’ve
known you too long to not smell a rotten fib when you spew
one.”

Breanne shrank down in her seat. She felt
caught. Rose chuckled. She couldn’t help laughing, as well.

“Am I truly so terrible at them?” Not for the
first time, she wished she could be so gay and forgiving as
Rose.

“Aye. The whole Grianan, every woman in the
room, begins to look about at each other for whoever filled it with
stink when you’ve left a lie behind,” she laughed out.

“
That’s my Rose. She can
make a warrior blush.” Ryan shook his head and let his arm fall to
eat.

“Stop now, Rose,” Breanne said. “You’ll have
me crying if you don’t.” A tear slid out anyway.

“And then I inevitably get the blame.” Rose
had tears, too. “But you’re my dearest friend and if that’s not
worth suffering a few prim glares, what is?”

Breanne’s heart warmed. She hugged her friend
close to thank her. Leave it to Rose to remind her that life can’t
be taken so seriously.

“And you no longer have the blameworthiness
of being with child right now,” Breanne said, “I had better stop
before they bar you from the Grianan.” Her stomach and cheeks ached
from the ongoing jest.

“Ah, let them.” Rose waved her hand and
leaned back against Ryan. “Give me a reason to stay in bed.”

Ryan responded with appropriately lewd hip
gyrations and soon the two were in their own secret jest that by
the look of things and all the kisses, Breanne needn’t be in
on.

She glanced about for Quinlan, caught Shane’s
eyes on her and felt eager to escape to her bedchamber—without him
or any other following. She hoped the visiting bards would be
enough of a distraction to allow her to slip away unnoticed. She
needed to prepare to steal away, no easy feat with the likelihood
of revelry lasting into the night.

As the food cleared and the music began,
Breanne slipped into the kitchen. Dishes sat in wait, the room
otherwise empty. She needed a cloak and her book from her room and
Heremon had said midnight, but also she recognized that easily, she
could slink out now and not be missed.

With one glance and three short steps,
Breanne sneaked out the door, the best path of avoidance. She liked
this better than any entertainment, especially when the cool night
air gusted on her face. The smell of heather was strong from the
recent rains and Breanne sucked air into her lungs. She felt
released.

She stood there only long
enough to ascertain no one followed or wandered
nearby
,
then
slinked through the shadows, past the walls of the dun, and through
the postern. Jitters of excitement danced through her. Her only
regret was that Heremon wouldn’t get to examine her notebook, her
developing Grimoire.

She could hear him now, “No, no. This chant
is all wrong”. Surely he would understand she had to take the
opportunity when presented?

“Too late now,” she said aloud. The moon
would be full in less than two weeks and looked like a glowing
smile surrounded by freckles of stars.

“Too late for what?”

Breanne screamed and turned to the direction
of the too familiar voice. Pins and needles of fright rushed her
shoulders and scalp. With her hand over her thumping heart, she
glowered at Finn’s scruffy, pleased countenance.

“Why do you so love to come upon me like
that, cat?” she said. Thankfully, he’d waited until she’d cleared
reach of the keep to frighten the clothes right off of her. She
should be used to it, should expect these little acts by now.

Finn joined her walk without so much as a
chuckle of satisfaction. His step was heavy, purposeful.

“Where have you been?” Breanne asked, his
quiet making her wary.

“Hunting fairies, preying on pixies.” His
usual sarcasm held a note of disturbing sobriety to it. “You know
they are quite tasty, the little people.”

“Heremon won’t arrive at the Grove for some
time. If you’d like, we can try again when we get there,” she said,
guilt over her failing him gnawing her.

He didn’t reply and she didn’t repeat
herself. Obviously, Finn felt bent to brood and who was she to stop
him? If she’d waited half the number of years as he, she’d be more
than pouting, too. Once they got there, he’d probably let her try
again. But she didn’t have her book. No matter. Perchance starting
from scratch would turn out more successful. The idea assuaged
Breanne’s guilt and focused her mind.

Night’s sounds sang in the breeze. Crickets
chirped, frogs croaked, water burbled louder as they neared the
wooded area. They headed to the usual meeting place after Breanne
completed her ritual blessing and offering.

“
I can’t see a reason to
bother with it.” Finn lay on the grass and thumped his tail as he
watched her bend, poke, pick through the foliage.

“We have time.” She chose
to ignore the snide remark
,
but smiled at hearing signs of his usual
self.

“Are you no longer worried for Heremon? With
all the fuss and froth this afternoon, I thought you’d be rushing
to find him first chance presented,” Finn said, his tone
venomous.

Heat climbed Breanne’s
neck. She clenched her fists. She would not let him bait her
tonight, not after the day she’d had. He couldn’t be expected to
empathize with her plight
,
but might appreciate that she did his. She pursed
her lips tightly, refusing to spit harsh words back at
him.

“I believe I overreacted earlier,” she said.
“Given time to consider the events of the day, I’ve decided to
trust that Heremon is well enough, wise enough to care for
himself.” Taking the high moral ground and turning her cheek felt
good. Why give him what he so clearly wanted?

“Interesting. Do tell me then, Breanne, what
will you do if he fails to show, unaware that his devotee is
patiently awaiting a lesson he doesn’t recall scheduling?”

His voice was less sour, closer to the dry
wit she’d grown accustomed to. But the words needled her worse.
Damn. He was too good at this vicious game. Breanne steadied her
breathing so that her mind and emotions would follow suit.

Moonlight broke free from
a cloud, brightening the cluster of trees they walked through. She
had no candle to light, no book to be reviewed and possibly no
lesson to be heard
,
but she refused to give in to climbing regret. Finn wasn’t
right, he was simply most happy when making her unhappy.

“I will check in on him,” she said succinctly
and began searching the small clearing for ingredients to make a
potion for Finn. Perhaps that would make him happy. In the
underbrush a swath of white caught her eye. Recognizing it, Breanne
bent and retrieved a candle that her master must have missed.

“Of course you will, brave girl that you
are,” Finn sneered.

Carefully, she set the candle upon the stone
altar and closed her eyes in concentration. She raveled up her
thoughts into a little bundle, compressed the bundle into a ball
and chanted the words in her mind. Breanne had successfully created
fire only twice before, and neither occasion were close in
proximity, but she might as well try.

The small orb slowly spun until it grew and
colored to a deep blue. Breanne opened her eyes, looked at the wick
and blew. She could feel the glowing orb’s energy deep in her chest
and breathed inwardly to catch it and push it out of her. When the
burning sensation left her body, nothing happened. She sighed in
resignation.

Suddenly, a tiny flicker of light sparked the
candle’s tip. A small happy shriek escaped her open mouth as she
saw the flame take hold and dance.

“Finn. Finn, I can hardly trust my eyes. Have
I done it?” She searched for him.

“Astonishing. You make fire. Forgive me if I
don’t dance a jig, will you?” Finn blinked slowly, his ears pitched
back.

Her smile widened. Finn was back to his old
self and as annoying as that persona was, it also comforted her.
She’d had enough of change today to last some time. Turning back,
Breanne watched the flame she’d charged from her own mind and felt
lifted.

I can do this. I am meant for this.

The joyous thoughts buzzed her veins with
promise and certainty. She rested her chin on her bent knees,
feeling like she could wait all night for Heremon. And if he did
not arrive, she would take heed of Finn’s words and check in on the
old Druid priest.