The Sword and the Song (8 page)

“I see.”

Those simple words chilled her even more than his anger. “Conor, I swear, I didn’t think it mattered. Besides, what was I supposed to do? He asked me to give him time to consult Comdiu! He is supposed to be my king.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Conor’s manner grew even icier. “So that’s what it takes to earn your loyalty? A throne? What else would you do if he asked you to?”

In a flash, Aine’s guilt turned to fury. “That is unworthy of you. I’ll wait for you and Morrigan in the hall.”

“Aine, wait . . .”

But she kept walking, her boot heels sharp and echoing on the stone floor, nearly as loud as the beat of her pulse in her ears. Of all the things she expected from her husband, cruelty was not one of them. She blinked away tears before they could do more than dampen her lashes. All this because of her gift. Some gift it turned out to be. It might have saved her life, but it also put her husband and his best friend at odds and made Conor distrust her. And none of it was within her control.

He was in an impossible situation.

After his actions last night
 
—and the hope it had subsequently raised
 
—Eoghan had to make some sort of declaration. Yet for all the conviction he had felt in taking control the night before, he had the equally strong feeling he couldn’t declare himself High King. Not now. Maybe not ever. Even if he were ready, he was not qualified to take command of the city, didn’t know where to start.

That in itself should give them pause.

It certainly did Conor. He was too shrewd to express his concerns before the Conclave now that Eoghan had finally taken command, but they were evident in his manner. Eoghan was beginning to think nothing he did would satisfy him.

While Conor retrieved Morrigan, Eoghan looked over the map with Riordan and Daigh, considering both the shortest and least-exposed routes through the mountains to Ard Bealach and debating which would be least likely to bring them into contact with actual tribes of the Clanless. These Seareanns
 
—unsworn to clan or country
 
—hated all outsiders, but they seemed to have a
particular dislike for the Fíréin. All it would take was a band of hunters to raise the alarm, and they’d have enemies pouring over them like ants from an anthill.

Aine came back into the hall alone, and it took only a glance to see she was upset. Had she and Conor quarreled in the corridor? He had to resist the urge to comfort her. It wasn’t his place, especially when he was supposed to be hiding his feelings. Besides, if they’d argued, it most likely had something to do with him.

Eoghan hesitated as conversation continued around them, but it somehow didn’t seem right to ignore her when she looked so forlorn. He sat across the table from her and leaned over his folded hands. “Tell me what you think about Morrigan.”

“As I said before, I think she’s being truthful about her information, but she’s hiding her true motivations.”

“Do you think she’s a threat?”

“You’d be better asking that of Conor.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Potentially? Aye. If our actions conflict with her goals.”

“Which we don’t know.”

Aine cracked a smile. “Exactly.”

Not all that helpful in choosing a direction, but at least it confirmed his own uneasy feelings. Morrigan was a manipulator, and he’d feel far better if he knew what she was trying to accomplish.

The sound of footsteps preceded Conor’s return with the prisoner. Eoghan blinked in surprise when he saw her. Morrigan’s title had seemed laughable last night when Conor introduced her. Now, in a blue wool dress that hugged every womanly curve, with her dark hair secured in a modest braid, she looked every inch the lady.

From the look on the other men’s faces, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. He could almost feel the softening of their attitudes toward her.

All except Daigh, who continued to scowl at her as though she were a viper near a baby’s cradle. “She’s an intruder, not a guest. Why is she not in bonds?”

“Because one woman is hardly a threat against the might of the Fíréin brotherhood in this stronghold.” Morrigan’s voice, pleasant and well modulated, almost demure, seemed calculated to calm the situation. Oh, she was far more dangerous than she appeared.

Eoghan rose and gestured to a seat beside him. “Lady Morrigan, please join us. We would like to ask you some questions.”

She gathered her skirts and settled into the chair he indicated. “What would you like to know?”

Eoghan sat beside her. “Who is in command at Ard Bealach now?”

“As I told you last night, a man named Somhairle, a Sliebhanaigh warrior loyal to Keondric.”

“Is he being commanded by magic?”

“I don’t know. Would that be evident?”

Eoghan moved on without answering. “How many men under his command?”

“About a hundred, supplemented by mercenaries. Anywhere between ten and sixty additional men, depending on season.”

“You seem well-informed, Lady Morrigan.”

Morrigan met his gaze, unflinching. He could swear he saw a hint of amusement in her expression. “It doesn’t take much intelligence or imagination to know what I would be asked when I arrived. I made it my business to know.”

“How well trained are the men?” Now Riordan interjected himself into the questioning.

“Very. These are no farmers and craftsmen. Professional warriors, the lot of them, and the fact that some of them are from the other kingdoms tell me they were selected for their skills, not merely proximity.”

“You seem very knowledgeable on the subject,” Riordan said.

“And you’re surprised because I’m a woman? I’m Timhaigh, my lord. There are few things we do better than wage war. So, aye, I know how to size up a man’s skills, just as I know there is something at Ard Bealach worth protecting with experienced men.”

It felt like both defiance and a warning, and Eoghan couldn’t help but feel the slightest glimmer of admiration for her nerve. From the smile playing at Riordan’s mouth, he seemed to feel the same way. In fact, she reminded him a little of Conor. Perhaps they were truer siblings than their blood would lead them to believe.

“Very well, Lady Morrigan. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“That’s it?”

“What were you expecting? Do you have something else to add?”

“No, it’s simply that . . . are you going to rescue Master Meallachán?”

“We haven’t decided.”

Morrigan blinked, but Eoghan said nothing more on the subject. “Conor, would you call the guard to escort her back to her chamber? You are needed here.”

Conor left the room and appeared with two men in tow. Aine still hadn’t made eye contact with her husband, but perhaps it was more apparent to Eoghan than anyone else. As soon as Morrigan departed with the guards, he looked to her. “What do you think?”

“I believe you can be confident about the numbers and her assessment of the men. Beyond that, I’ve already said I can’t read her.”

Surprise flared from the Conclave members, who apparently hadn’t put the suspicion of magic together with the blocking of Aine’s gift.

“What does this mean for us, then?” Dal asked finally, more subdued than usual. “A hundred well-trained men in an impenetrable fortress.”

“Which we will secretly enter and take before anyone is the wiser,” Conor said. “Or do you forget that we have both our fading abilities and the runes on our side?”

“
A
rune,” Daigh corrected. “And if we’re talking two dozen men against more than a hundred, we have to be prepared for casualties. We are not invincible. Mistakes happen.”

It was a far more humble attitude toward the Fíréin than Daigh had ever exhibited before. Was the man’s reticence to break tradition actually born from fear?

“What are the chances this could be a trap?” Gradaigh asked.

“High.” Eoghan didn’t mince words. “We can’t discount the idea that Lady Morrigan set up this situation on Niall’s behalf to draw Conor or me out.”

“Then why take the risk?” Daigh asked.

“Because if one of our own is being imprisoned and tortured, it’s the right thing to do.”

“That’s certainly a reversal of your position since yesterday. What’s changed?” Conor’s tone remained quiet and measured, but the challenge was clear.

“What’s changed is the urgency and the goal,” Eoghan said. “This is a call I believe we must answer, regardless of whether Meallachán is in any condition to assist us. If we accomplish secondary goals, all the better.”

“Moral obligations aside,” Conor said, “we are in the middle of a war. Taking an enemy fortress is hardly a secondary goal.”

“I’m on your side of this argument, Conor.”

Conor shut his mouth and gave Eoghan a tense nod.

Eoghan appealed to the Conclave. “I believe we can mitigate the risk. For one, we should bring Lady Morrigan. She’s clearly
shown a talent for self-preservation, so I don’t believe she’ll willingly put herself in harm’s way.”

“Unless she was lying about her escape and she’s leading us into a trap,” Daigh said.

“Be that as it may, I’d rather have her where I can keep an eye on her. We won’t share our plans, simply bring her along for the trip. Think of her as a hostage.”

Eoghan felt Conor flinch at the word, but he didn’t acknowledge him. “Shall we put it to a vote?”

“I think we’ve passed the point of voting,” Conor said. “You’re in command. You have spoken.”

A quick look around the table proved the truth of Conor’s words. Slowly, nods circled through the men. “A week to prepare, then,” Eoghan said. “I’ll select the party. You and I will need to discuss provisions.”

“You’re suggesting we both go?” Conor asked. “That leaves the city without a leader in the event we fail.”

“I’m not sure we have a choice. It’s only right I lead the campaign, and you’re needed to erect a shield around the fortress after we’ve taken it.”

“As you command.” Conor’s voice was hard, but he delivered the words without a trace of irony.

In that moment, Eoghan realized that the brotherhood
 
—and the way of life to which he had devoted himself
 
—was well and truly broken.

Conor avoided Carraigmór
 
—
or rather Eoghan and Aine
 
—while his temper cooled. He’d been unfair to his wife. He didn’t need time or distance to know she’d been put in an impossible situation, torn between her loyalty to Conor and the man that he himself insisted was their High King.

His feelings about Eoghan, on the other hand, didn’t soften a bit. He should not be seeking private audiences with Aine, shouldn’t be asking her to keep his secrets. The fact that Eoghan had always been so circumspect in the past made Conor wonder if he’d deliberately tried to drive a wedge between them because he wanted Aine for himself.

Conor wandered the practice yards, watching matches with a jaw clenched so hard it ached. Men bowed to him deferentially, though he knew that would change. He was no longer a leader of warriors but a bureaucrat. His worth had been reduced to tallying tablets and counting bushels. Wasn’t that what Eoghan had meant when he’d said Conor’s expertise was too valuable to lose?

“Master Conor, care to step in?” One of the younger men, an
apprentice whose face he recognized but whose name he couldn’t remember, stepped back from his opponent.

“I’ll just watch.” Conor couldn’t guarantee his irritation with the situation wouldn’t spill over into his fighting. The last thing he wanted to do was injure an apprentice because he couldn’t take out his feelings on his real target.

By the time he felt reasonably in control of his emotions, the sun had set and most of the villagers had already made their way to the cookhouses for supper. Conor bypassed the line and slunk upward into Carraigmór, determined to avoid contact until he could manage some semblance of civility.

Instead, the first person he spotted in the hall was Eoghan.

“Conor. I’ve been looking for you. I’ve asked Riordan, Daigh, and Aine to meet us in your study. Will you come?”

Conor nodded stiffly and followed Eoghan to the Ceannaire’s office, where the other men and Aine already waited. His wife raised pained, regretful eyes to him, but she said nothing, for which he was grateful. Now was not the time to air their private issues.

Eoghan hesitated just inside, and Conor swept a hand toward the heavy chair behind the table. He had claimed the honors of leadership, so it was only logical that he take Conor’s place in the office as well. As Eoghan sat behind the desk, looking far more comfortable behind it than Conor had ever felt, the truth hit him full force.

“Eoghan cannot lead this mission.”

All heads swiveled toward him. He found a seat, his conviction growing. “He’s too important to the city, too important to Seare, to be risked. I have to go anyway to erect the shield. I can see the rune, so I imagine I can reproduce it.”

The room remained silent for a moment, and Conor focused on Eoghan’s face so he didn’t have to see the betrayed look in
Aine’s eyes. Finally, Eoghan gave a small nod. “Whom do you propose to leave in command after the fortress is taken?”

“Surely we have a Conclave member of Sliebhanaigh descent who will do nicely. Daigh, perhaps?”

Daigh’s eyebrows rose, but before the man could object, Aine interrupted.

“Then I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“Why not? You need a way to communicate with Ard Dhaimhin
 
—”

“Which you can do from here.”

“
 
—and having a healer on hand is an undeniable advantage
 
—”

“Which I can’t take away from the city.”

She stared at him, eyes glimmering with hurt and anger. She thought he didn’t want her around, which was not remotely the truth.

“Aine,” he said evenly. “You must think of our child.”

Heads whipped toward them, shock on Daigh’s and Eoghan’s faces.

“You’re expecting?” Eoghan asked, his voice rough. Aine nodded.

“Congratulations,” Daigh said. “Conor’s right. We’ll be traveling on foot for weeks. You would put yourself and us at risk.”

“What say you, Eoghan?” Conor asked. “The final decision is yours.”

“I don’t like it. I feel like I’m shirking my duty.”

“What says Comdiu on the matter?”

Eoghan sighed. “Nothing specific. But I have been asking Him whether this endeavor is the right one. Not if I must go.”

“This is what must happen,” Conor said. “You know it as well as I do.”

Eoghan at last nodded his agreement, and Aine stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go rest now.”

The men rose with her and she escaped the room, leaving an echo of silence in her absence. Or maybe it just felt that way to Conor, knowing she was hurt and angry.

When they were all seated again, Eoghan looked to Conor. “What of Lady Morrigan? Does she stay as well?”

“Aye, she stays. I don’t trust her yet, and I don’t want to be responsible for her safety. If we’re to be successful, I need experienced, disciplined men. I need to be assured of their reliability.”

It took several hours to choose the members of the parties, a dozen each to be led by Conor and Daigh. It took nearly as long to make the list of supplies and weapons they would bring with them, balancing the need for self-sufficiency with the desire to travel light and fast. All the while, Conor wondered how furious Aine would be when he returned to their chamber.

But when he at last entered the room, she seemed merely sad. Perched on her chair with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a book open on her lap, she watched him undress in silence.

Conor waited until he could no longer stand the quiet. “This is the way it must be, Aine.”

“Must it? Or is this just your way of proving you’re capable of more than the administrative tasks to which you’ve been reduced?”

Her quiet words pierced to his heart, even knowing she’d likely picked the unacknowledged thought from his mind. He knelt by the chair and buried his head in her side, breathing deeply her familiar scent of sage and lavender and mint. After a moment, she softened and combed her fingers through his hair in acceptance of his unspoken apology.

“I love only you, Conor,” she murmured. “I’m loyal to you. What must I do to prove it?”

“Nothing, love. I’m sorry. Forgive me for being cruel.”

“Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry for not telling you about the rune. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know. I blame Eoghan, not you.”

She pulled away from him, her face creased into a frown. “Conor, whatever is between you and Eoghan has to end. The two of you are responsible for the well-being of this city, of this kingdom. Our enemy would like nothing more than to have you divided and ineffectual.”

He straightened and took a seat on the bed, embarrassed to be scolded by his wife like a child. “He does not make it easy.”

“Nor do you make it easy for him. You once had a family. Now you have a wife and child. Do you think you’re the only one who feels envy? This cannot be about the three of us. If it were, you would not be leaving me again on a mission from which you might not return.”

“Aine
 
—”

“I know why you must go. Just don’t act as if you and Eoghan are the only ones who make sacrifices.”

Conor set aside the book and drew her to her feet, then pulled her into his arms. “There are times when I think Seare might benefit from a High Queen instead.”

Her expression softened and a smile quivered on her lips. “Since that’s not going to happen, Seare will have to muddle through with you two.”

“Comdiu help us,” he murmured.

“He always does.” She stretched up and planted a light kiss on his lips, her way of telling him that for the moment at least, all was forgiven.

Eoghan didn’t wait for morning to knock on Morrigan’s door. With more time came more of a chance she would hear the news
on her own, and he wanted to see her reaction. Still, the men on guard looked at his arrival with curiosity. He ignored them.

Morrigan, however, seemed completely unsurprised. “I wondered how long it would take for you to come see me. Would you like to come inside?”

Eoghan stepped through the door, but he left it cracked open. He would not be the one responsible for discarding the last tatters of her respectability. He didn’t wait for her question. “You’re not going to Ard Bealach.”

“I don’t understand. I’m the only one who has been there. I’d think you’d want my memory of the layout.”

“We don’t need your memory of the layout. Conor is more than capable of leading this mission on his own.”

Dismay surfaced in her expression. “Conor is going to lead the assault?”

“Is there some reason why you’re concerned for him?”

“Of course there is. Whatever you might think of me, I’m not completely heartless. Nor am I foolish enough to think this mission is without its risks. I don’t want to see him get hurt. Especially not with a pregnant wife.”

Now he was taken off guard. “How on earth did you know that?”

“Women know these things.” She pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “Where men look for the obvious, women look for the nuance.”

“Nuance is certainly not a problem for you, my lady. But considering you like so well to style yourself as a man, perhaps you could state the obvious.”

“Fine. I will. Conor was not raised as a warrior, and you most certainly were. He’s going to get himself killed.”

“And what makes you so certain of that? If you’re truly worried about his safety, you should come clean now.”

“I have told you everything I know.” She spread her hands wide. “But it would be foolish to think that after I leave, they wouldn’t be looking for some sort of attack and laying traps. Isn’t that what you would do if someone who was privy to sensitive information disappeared mysteriously?”

She was right; it was exactly what they would do. “What information do you have that could be so damaging?”

“I’ve told you already. Their numbers. Their training. The fact they hold Master Meallachán.”

“All of which could be common knowledge.”

“I think you overestimate the interest of the people in the region. They’re busy trying not to starve. They don’t care who’s taken over the fortress.”

Eoghan cast a quizzical look at her.

“Where do you think Keondric’s forces have gotten their supplies? They’ve stolen
 
—excuse me,
commandeered
 
—them from the surrounding villages. The livestock, the autumn harvests, everything.”

“Be that as it may, I can assure you that Conor is most certainly capable of taking care of himself.”

“I shall take your word on it. Just take mine. Don’t underestimate what you might face at Ard Bealach.”

Eoghan gave her a terse nod and then moved toward the door. Perhaps her concern for Conor was real, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she had told them everything she knew.