Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (22 page)

I shook my head. “I liked it.”

He looked relieved. “So did I, but … but you froze. I thought I’d scared you, or that I was doing it wrong, or that I should have asked your permission before—”

“I would’ve given it,” I said, smiling. “But you’d better not try surprising any other girls like that,” I joked, trying to gain a little time to catch my breath and let my racing heart slow a bit.

“No others,” he said, so serious in that instant that he seemed much older. “You’re the only one.” He was about to gather me into his arms again, but I was quicker. Now I knew what I wanted, and I was the one who led the way. Oh, such a soaring feeling! So sweet, so free, and so wrapped in its own enchantment that we hovered in a moment outside of time.

When our lips parted, he sighed. “I wish that Avallach would sink into the sea. I wish that I could learn the Fair Folk’s magic and find a way to change my father’s mind. I wish”—he kissed me—“I wish this were my home. I wish—
Ow!
Muirín, you pest!”

I had to laugh. The jealous little fox had grown tired of being ignored and so she’d nipped his ankle. He dropped to one knee on the lakeshore to scratch her ears. She was always at his heels these days, refusing to be separated from him. I could
understand the feeling. When he visited the crannog and tied her to a post so he could do his chores, she set up a wretched howl and would not stop unless he went back and took her with him.

“What were you about to wish for?” I asked as he scooped up the intrusive creature.

“That your father were mine. Lord Eochu loves you so dearly, I doubt he could deny you anything.”

“Except the black bull.”

“That was long ago. He treats you almost as an equal. Was it always that way between you?”

I thought hard about what Odran asked. I couldn’t recall a time without my father’s love, even if his protectiveness sometimes made me wish he loved me less and trusted me more. As a child, I’d been in awe of him. To my eyes, he was like the Fair Folk, more than human, capable of riding thunderclouds.

Things were different now. They’d changed since Mother’s enforced retreat created an emptiness in his life that brief visits to her bedside failed to fill. I never knew how much he depended on her always being there for him until the lack of it beat him down the way no enemy’s sword had ever done. My presence couldn’t replace hers, but it could comfort him. He needed that comfort desperately. In the midst of a stronghold teeming with warriors, women, fosterlings, servants, people of every sort and temperament, he was lonely. That was why he sought me out and set me at his side, asking my opinions as a person, not as a girl-child. It was also why he looked so lost on days when I stole off to the crannog.

“He’s always loved me, Odran,” I replied. “Now he’s finally beginning to value me.”

“I could have taught him how to do that much sooner,” Odran said. “Look at all the time he wasted! Do you think he’d let me stay on as his teacher so he doesn’t make more mistakes like that?”

“I wish he would.”

But wishes aren’t wings.

“Father?” I crept up behind him as he stood conferring with Fechin near the horse enclosure.

“Maeve, my spark!” His joy at seeing me was obvious. Fechin smiled as well. “I missed you today. Sneaking off to tryst with your sweetheart?”

I pretended to be cross, the way I always got whenever my parents teased me about boys, but I didn’t waste a breath saying no about what I could no longer honestly deny. “Father, may I speak with you?”

“Why not?”

“Alone.”

He consented. I took his hand and led him to a deserted space in the lee of the ringfort walls. He looked bemused but never uttered a word until I released my grip and said, “Father, if there were something that I needed, really
needed
, for my happiness and you had the power to give it to me, would you?”

That took him aback. “
There’s
a question. Have I denied your wishes so often?”

“Please, I want your answer,” I said stubbornly. “And if it’s yes, then I want your sworn word that you’ll—”

“That I’ll what?” He cut me off. “Promise to grant you something without knowing what it is? My oath is the king’s
word. I don’t give it lightly, not even to you, and I don’t buy swords still in the sack.”

“You make me sound sly as a Gaulish merchant.” I was hurt but kept a proud face. “I only want you to swear to hear me out, to let me tell you what I want and
why
. Let me have my say—my full say, without interruption—as if I were someone whose words you trust.”

Father ran his thumb over one side of his mustache, then the other. “I’ve asked your opinion about matters that are beyond an ordinary girl’s understanding. I’ve told you how much I prize your insights. I’ve poured out gifts to celebrate the moment Master Owain took me aside to tell me that he and Master Niall are pleased to have you take my place here at Samhain. As High King, I must attend the rites at Tara. Any one of these things would be proof of how deeply I trust you. Why don’t you trust
me
enough to say what you’re after frankly, directly, without all this talk of oaths?”

I met his eyes and held them. “I want your word.”

“Very well, you have it. What’s so vital to your happiness that needs my oath to guarantee it a fair hearing?”

I breathed deeply and calmed myself. I didn’t want to sound like a beggar or a spoiled, demanding child. “Let Odran stay.”

Father’s mouth fell open, but he remembered his promise and said nothing.

“Let Odran remain at Cruachan,” I went on. “Not forever, just for a while. You’re the High King. Master Íobar must consent if you tell him it will only delay Odran’s trip to Avallach for a season. I swear to you by my head and my hand and my spirit, nothing in this world would bring me greater happiness.
You have the power to make it so.” I fell silent, awaiting his reaction.

Father’s expression was unreadable. “I always forget how old you are,” he said. “I look at you and my memories show me a little girl, not a young woman in love.”

“When did I say I loved him?” I exclaimed, hoping that if my cheeks turned pink, Father would think it was from the flush of temper. “Before everything else, he’s my friend. We understand each other. Do you know how special something like that is to me?”

“Ah, your friend. I see. Your mother and I often spoke about how you never seemed to have any friends at all, except for Derbriu, so this is very good.” Father smiled faintly. “And there’s no need for me to share you with another just yet, so that’s even better.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Do you promise?” I had to be sure.

He kissed my brow. “You have the king’s word.”

He’d said,
I’ll see what I can do
. My father was Lord Eochu, High King of Èriu. His enemies’ heads framed our doorway. He led the greatest warriors in Connacht. His word commanded kings. What
couldn’t
he do?

Master Íobar would give his consent at once. Odran would stay. I knew it must be so. I had the king’s word.

I held on to that smug feeling for five days before it began to slip away. I didn’t expect to be told that I’d gotten my wish immediately, but I did think I’d hear
something
. Five days, and not a hint about Odran’s fate. Five days, and nothing to suggest that Father had succeeded, or that he was giving Master Íobar
time to think it over, or even that he’d spoken to the druid at all.

To add to my uncertainty, Father no longer acted eager for my companionship. I didn’t need to elude him in order to go to the crannog; he avoided me. Dinner was the one time of day we had to be in each other’s company, but it was easy for him to keep me at arm’s length then too. Once again Cruachan was besieged by highborn guests, the kings and warriors who were traveling to Tara. I couldn’t object if he honored a different one every night by giving the guest my place beside him.

I only wish he hadn’t also rewarded an additional pair of visitors with the two places flanking me. Odran’s fate was on my mind, leaving me no patience for their tiresome flattery and flirtation. I forced myself to tolerate it anyway. If I gave our guests a curt answer or accidental insult, it would destroy the harmony of our home, buy trouble for the High King, and cause strife that would hurt Mother’s condition.

I finally decided that if answers wouldn’t come to me, I’d hunt them down. I sought Father out while he was overseeing the preservation of meat for the winter. He was so fanatical about deciding which of the newly slaughtered animals should be salted and which should be smoked that Mother used to poke fun at him for it, claiming he’d make a better cook than a king.

He didn’t look happy to see me. “What brings you here, daughter?” he asked. “If you came to help, this is no task for you.” He made a sweeping gesture, including the team of bare-chested men whose arms and torsos were spattered with blood from the carcasses they were shifting. “You might as well go back to the house.”

Why is he trying so hard to send me away?
“I will, as soon as I have your answer. You know what I mean.”

His face closed and hardened. “We’ll speak of it later. There’s no time for that nonsense now.”

Nonsense?
“How much time does it take to say yes or no?”

He loosed a barking laugh. “Did you hear that, men?” he asked, turning to the workers. “Have any of you known a girl to be satisfied with yes or no? Even when they’re told what they want to hear, they nag a man with ‘What do you mean by yes?’ and ‘Are you sure you intended to say no? Tell me
why
and
how
you decided, and
who
swayed your mind, and if the moon weeps drops of cheese! Why don’t you speak? I only want a
simple
answer.’ ” They all relished his shallow joke.

“Then why won’t you give me one?” I said just loud enough for Father to hear. “I’ve already been given your promise.”

Father’s hand dropped onto my shoulder like a stone. Every hint of love had vanished from his eyes. “Go home, Maeve.” He didn’t raise his voice or tighten his fingers, but his entire being radiated threat. “Now.”

I held myself steady, even when the pulse fluttering at the base of my throat was beating out a rapid
runrunrunrunRUN!
With a slight bob of my head, I walked off as slowly and serenely as I could. I would not let him know he’d made me so suddenly afraid.

The doorway to the great house was in sight when Father caught up to me. This time there was tenderness in the hand that clasped my arm and gently turned me around. “I’m sorry, child,” he said. “I couldn’t speak in front of those men about the business between us, and I do want to be frank with you.”

“But you don’t,” I responded quietly. “Five days—no, now
it’s
six
since you promised to speak with Master Íobar—and you’ve done everything you can to flee from me. Why, Father? Is it because he told you no?”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, my spark.”

He was hurting; I saw it in his face. I hugged him as hard as I could. “You can never do that, Father.”

His arms closed around me. “Thank you for your faith, dear one. It warms me better than the sun.”

“How can you disappoint me when this isn’t over?” I said brightly. “Have you ever won a battle after only one spear-cast? Next time, tell Master Íobar you want him to stay as well, to hold a post of honor in the High King’s household. He’d snap at
that
like a hungry salmon. Sweeten everything with gifts—gold, silver, cattle. I’ll contribute half my herd if he’ll—”

“Maeve, stop. There will be no second asking. Master Íobar has spoken. Odran will go to Avallach.”

“Father, if you
tell
him—”

“I’m telling
you
now, let it drop! I can’t stand against the will of a druid.”

“But you’re the king, king of Connacht, High King of Èriu!”

“And he is a man who can speak to the gods! He reads their desires and commands our sacrifices. If he turns his word against me, calls me accursed, it would give my enemies an excuse to rebel and attack. He could bring an end to everything I’ve built for us. Maeve, he has the power to curse us down to the marrow of our
children’s
bones!”

He looked into my face and smiled sadly at what he saw there. “So. It seems that I can disappoint you after all.”

I let Odran go alone to the crannog the next day. I’d looked forward to giving him good news, but now that I saw how matters stood between Father and Master Íobar, there was no chance of that. Failure felt raw and agonizing, like the mark of boiling water spilled over my skin.

I found three of Mother’s ladies and two of the fosterlings weaving together and took a place among them. A servant fetched me a loom and one of the women guided my work as I sent the shuttle back and forth, creating a vivid checkered pattern on the cloth. When it was finished, she inspected it and was satisfied.

“You should apply yourself to such things more often, Lady Maeve. But I suppose that since you’ve been sharing Lord Eochu’s tasks, you now think women’s work is beneath you.”