The Sword and the Song (9 page)

The week that preceded Conor’s departure
from Ard Bealach sped by in a blur, during which Aine was lucky to capture a handful of minutes with her husband. Conor rose long before she did and crawled into bed hours after she went to sleep. There was work to be done in the village below, of course: endless rounds of patients to be seen and the regular decoctions and salves to be made. She also spent hours at the workbench, putting together a kit of every possible remedy Conor and his party might need. Just because she wasn’t permitted to come along didn’t mean she would send them into the dark reaches of the Sliebhanaigh mountains unprepared.

When she wasn’t in the healer’s cottage, she was reading through Shanna’s journals
 
—a slow process, considering the queen’s tiny, old-fashioned handwriting.

“You’re working too hard,” Conor murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind as she read. It was late on the night before his departure, and she had almost given up on his appearing to spend their last few hours together.

She twisted around and kissed him in greeting. “Not as hard as you. Have you left the Ceannaire’s study in the past two days?”

“Two? Three? I’ve lost count.” He moved around her to perch on the bed and nodded toward her book. “Anything yet?”

“The same. I feel we’re missing a volume somewhere. She refers to a pervasive darkness on the land and the troubles that came out of it, but she doesn’t give any details.”

“That’s interesting. We know that Daimhin took power because he solved a problem, and we know it had something to do with the wards.”

“Perhaps I haven’t gotten there yet. I thought this was from the early years of his reign, but Carraigmór hasn’t even been built yet.” Aine sat back in her chair. “Does it strike you as peculiar that the last time the runes were discovered, it was when the High King was needed to face down a massive threat?”

Conor’s brow furrowed. “You think Comdiu purposely brings the runes back to attention when they’re needed by the High King?”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Where did they go for the last five hundred years? Aye, they’ve been on the throne all this time, but no one alive knows what they mean. Meallachán has carried them on his harp, but we’re not sure if he was actually aware of what they could do individually.”

“That’s why we need to ask Meallachán. For all we know, that’s why he’s being held in the first place.” Their eyes met, and Aine could see him putting together the pieces without even touching his mind. “We need to know as much as we can about the events of Daimhin’s kingship.”

“I’ll keep reading, and I’ll keep you apprised of what I find.” Aine paused. “Conor, what if Meallachán really doesn’t know anything? What if he, like you, just happened to be born with a gift and access to an object of power?”

“Then we’ve simply done what I’ve been trying to accomplish. Once we secure Ard Bealach and the passes, we have a
direct conduit to bring men into Sliebhan, as well as a base of operations for expansion.”

Aine stared at her husband, understanding dawning along with a glimmer of admiration. “This was never about Meallachán for you. You just knew they needed a legitimate reason to break them out of their apathy.”

Conor said nothing, but if she weren’t mistaken, he looked a little smug. Could he be that calculated, to hide his intentions even from her? His gentle spirit and kind nature sometimes made it difficult to remember that he had been educated as a prince, with all the understandings of political machinations and strategy that entailed.

Just like Morrigan.

“What do you think your sister’s game is?” Aine asked suddenly.

“I don’t know. That’s what I need you to find out. We have to know why you can’t read her and why she’s really here. You may be able to gain her confidence more easily than I could.”

“Not likely. She already knows I suspect her.”

“And if I know Morrigan at all, she’ll still think she can get the best of you. I used to play King and Conqueror with her. For all her feminine trappings, she was the most audacious strategist I’ve ever seen.”

“You were matched, then?”

“Evenly, if differently. I always tried to win while preserving every piece I could. You never know what you might need until the end.”

“And Morrigan?”

“She would risk anything. Down to her last piece.”

It shouldn’t have surprised Aine that her sleep was disturbed in the days before the departure. However confident Conor was in
the selection of his companions and the soundness of his plan, she couldn’t forget that he could very well be walking into a trap. Perhaps that explained the sensation of watching eyes and grasping hands that clawed at her in her sleep. Clearly, her helpless feelings in her waking hours carried over to her resting ones as well.

Worse yet was when Aine learned that what she assumed to be a short trek on horseback was actually weeks on foot, with only ponies to carry their belongings.

“The Clanless don’t have access to riding horses,” Conor explained. “For our disguise to be convincing, we must travel exactly as they would.”

“Then perhaps you should have picked a closer fortress to besiege.”

“Sadly, we’re fresh out of nearby fortresses. But we’ll be in enemy territory for only a short time.”

“That’s a comfort.” Aine took Conor’s hand and held it to her abdomen, the swell of which was beginning to grow more pronounced. “You do realize you may miss the birth of your child.”

From the startled look on Conor’s face, he’d not considered that possibility. “I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening.”

“If only everything were within your power.” Five months seemed like a long time, but it wasn’t. Not really. The thought of Conor’s being gone when she gave birth made her shiver with fear
 
—not because of the actual birth, as there were midwives in the village and she had attended dozens of births herself, but the idea of becoming a mother alone, without his quiet, reassuring presence. She would be responsible for a new life, one she was bringing into a nation at war, where their very survival was horribly uncertain. A tear slid down her cheek.

Conor slipped an arm around her shoulder and buried his face in her hair. “I love you, Aine. And I love our child. Being here or there will not affect that.”

Aine swiped the tear away. “I’m sorry. The baby makes me terribly emotional. I’m told it gets worse before it gets better.”

“I wish I could stay. I wish it were safe for you to be with me. But the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back. And by that time, perhaps you will have learned how the sword and the runes and the kingship all fit together.”

“With Comdiu’s provision, I will have. To think I believed we wouldn’t be parted again.”

Conor flinched, and she knew he was remembering his promise not to leave her side again. It was cruel to act as if he were letting her down when he was merely doing his duty.

“Enough of this talk,” she said. “Let’s go to bed. It’s an early day tomorrow.”

The next morning, she rose early to help Conor prepare for departure, even though he didn’t need assistance. The actions
 
—adjusting the buckles on his sword baldric, handing him the blades that went into sheaths on various parts of his person, draping him in the furs that were part of the traveler disguise
 
—all felt like a mystical barrier against the dangers to come. She knew it was pure superstition, yet the accompanying prayers in her heart were anything but.
Comdiu protect him. Let him prevail against his enemies. Let him come back to me safely.

Let my child have the chance to know his father.

Only when she removed the rune charm, the ivory one he had given her before he left to join the Fíréin brotherhood years ago, did her composure break. She chewed her bottom lip to keep her tears from flowing and draped it over his head, then tucked it beneath his tunic.

“None of this, now.” Conor brushed away the single escaped
teardrop on its descent down her face. He kissed her deeply, a reassurance, a promise. “We will be successful. And I will be back in plenty of time to see the birth of our child.”

Aine smiled as he caught her around the waist and gave her a little spin, the playfulness of the gesture at odds with her dark thoughts. She trusted Comdiu to watch over Conor, to protect this endeavor, but the little nagging fears still nibbled away at her faith. Each time they parted, she wondered if they’d used up all their allotted reunions.

“I can’t delay any longer,” he said finally, regret heavy in his voice. “Contact me each night, and I’ll update you on our position. You can have Eoghan mark it on the map so the leadership knows our progress.”

“Of course.” She put on a cheerful attitude and let him take her hand as they proceeded to the clearing below Carraigmór. The party had staged themselves at the bottom of the steps beside four pack ponies loaded with food, supplies, and wicker cages containing gray and white rock doves to be housed in Ard Bealach’s dovecotes.

Warriors milled around the horses, dressed similarly to Conor and fully armed with sling staves, swords, and bows. Some Aine recognized as being from the ranks of older and more experienced brothers. Others looked barely old enough to shave. They all, however, shared the confident quality of men born and reared in Ard Dhaimhin, at once fearless and cautious. Aine felt a twinge of appreciation in her chest and realized that somewhere over the course of the past two months, living and working alongside Ard Dhaimhin’s brothers, she’d come to care about them.

“You ready?”

Eoghan’s deep voice behind them startled her, but he was directing his question to Conor, who simply nodded. “As ready
as we can be. I will be contacting Aine regularly as we go, and we’ll send back a dove as soon as we’ve taken the fortress.”

Conor’s certainty that they would be successful unknotted the tension in her stomach by a degree. He wasn’t given to bravado. If he thought they would succeed, she believed him.

“You’ve the coin that we set aside for you?” Eoghan asked.

“Aye, though I don’t expect to need it.”

Eoghan had insisted that Conor take a good amount of gold from Ard Dhaimhin’s coffers for bribes and quiet purchases. Aine had been horrified at the hoard of gold and silver, considering the city’s dire struggles, until Conor reminded her that the true problem was the scarcity of supplies.

Conor drew Eoghan off a few paces, and from the speculative glance that Eoghan cast in her direction, she knew she was the topic of conversation. She barely resisted the urge to pick out the details from Conor’s mind.

“You asked him to watch over me, didn’t you?” she murmured when he came back.

He slipped his arms around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head, heedless of their audience. “Of course I did. No matter how I feel toward him at the moment, he will see that you’re safe. Promise me you won’t work yourself too hard. Not just for you, but for the baby.”

“I promise I will not do anything to harm our child,” Aine said. From the look on his face, it wasn’t the assurance he wanted. She sighed. “Conor, the needs of the city are great. I can’t simply lock myself inside Carraigmór until you return. But I promise I will not do anything foolish. That will have to be enough.”

“It will have to be,” he said with a hint of humor. “Let it never be said you don’t have a mind of your own.” He kissed her then, sweetly and much too briefly for her liking, and then shouldered his staff. “Contact me tonight. Don’t forget.”

“How could I?” she shot back, plastering on a teasing smile that she didn’t feel. “Go with Comdiu, my love.”

He bowed his head as if to receive the blessing and then clasped forearms with Riordan and Eoghan one more time before taking his place at the front of the group. He raised his voice loud enough to be heard through the clearing and raised a hand. “Forward.”

Aine’s heart rose into her throat as she watched her husband walk away, her eyes locked onto his familiar figure until he disappeared into the small sea of warriors. The crowd around her began to dissipate, but she didn’t turn away until the last man was merely a speck on the edge of her vision, swallowed by the trees and structures of the village.