Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (24 page)

“True. When he’s done up like that, I can’t think of him as just a man. You can say no to a man.”

“Thank the gods I’ve got nothing he could want.”

“Not even that girl of yours?” They both guffawed.

The meal progressed. Plates were piled high with slices of venison. Bowls were filled with stew from the cauldrons. Chunks of honeycomb oozed liquid gold in the firelight. Mead and beer flowed. I heard Devnet pluck a few tentative notes from the strings of his harp, waiting for the right moment to begin his songs.

A servant brought me the duck Master Íobar had promised. The roasted skin gleamed with luscious fat, making my mouth water. I set my knife to carving it, offering the first piece to Odran.

He held up both hands. “No, no, you should taste it before I do. It’s my father’s gift to you. He’d slap the ears off my skull if he saw me accept that.” He indicated the juicy, steaming leg I was trying to serve him.

“But I don’t want to eat the whole thing by myself,” I protested. “Master Íobar said he hoped we’d share this.”

“Well …” Odran still looked dubious. “All right, but maybe I should wait until the king’s been served.”

“Wait? Doesn’t he have—” I glanced to where Master Íobar was sitting with Father. The only foods before them were the usual fare. The second duck was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh no. Someone’s made an awful mistake,” I said for Odran’s ears exclusively. “When there’s a special dish, the king must have it before anyone else, and then it’s his turn to offer some to his most honored guest. If Father sees that I’ve been given this”—I gestured at the duck with a sweep of its own roasted leg—“he’ll punish the servant who brought it to me ahead of him, the one who failed to present the dish to him first, and the cook who neglected to give them the proper instructions!”

“Do you think the penalty will be severe?”

“Probably. Father’s not a brute, but this is a matter of maintaining the king’s dignity. If he lets one offense slip by without a strong rebuke, someone might take it as a sign that he’s growing too weak to defend his rule as High King.”

“This is why I’m glad I was never destined to become a warrior. They fight about the strangest things.”

“I know.” I thought of my friend Kelan and endured the painful memory of how he’d died in a quarrel over a piece of roasted boar. “I don’t want anyone to suffer because of this stupid duck.”

“How can we prevent it?”

I sought the answer frantically. Father and Master Íobar were deep in conversation. Neither one was looking in our direction. I’d have to act fast, before they did. For a moment, I wished I were gifted with the Fair Folk’s magic so that I could cast a spell of concealment over the bird. Since that wasn’t going to happen, I did the next best thing: I cast my skirt over it. Placing the platter on the floor, I lifted the hem of my dress and shoved the duck back between my feet, out of sight.

“Lady Maeve? Why did you do that?” The voice of one of
the men who’d been discussing Master Íobar’s striking garb made me realize that my work had its witnesses, even if Father and the druid had seen nothing.

“It … I … You see …” I faltered over half a dozen explanations, none of which would have convinced a newborn hedgehog.

“The princess’s action is a favor to my father,” Odran said, giving the man a cool, challenging look worthy of Master Íobar himself. “Would you like me to tell him that you’ve taken an interest in his personal business?”

The man paled slightly. “No, no, never mind. I was just curious, but it doesn’t concern me.” He shifted his position so that his back was to us.

I leaned close to Odran. “Don’t tell me you weren’t born to be a warrior,” I whispered. “You just faced down one of Father’s best fighters, and you didn’t even have to bare a blade.”

“Who needs a blade? My father’s a better weapon,” Odran replied wryly. “He scares people.”

“I’ve noticed.” I was thinking about my own father and how Master Íobar terrified a man of so much strength and authority. Once again I saw his hangdog face and heard the shame in his voice as he told me,
“So. It seems that I can disappoint you after all.”

“It’s because of his calling,” Odran went on. “People revere the druids, but there’s always a thread of fear running through their respect.”

Master Íobar could scare people even if he were a cowherd
, I thought.
Thank the gods our Master Owain and Master Niall are different
.

At that moment, I spied one of our head cook’s assistants
approaching Father’s bench carrying a large platter. I recognized the shape of a roasted bird and saw Master Íobar rise to meet the servant before she could set down her burden. It was obvious that the druid was going to turn a simple presentation of food into a striking event.

“Oh, good! The second duck’s being served,” I murmured. “Now we can eat ours.” I bent over to drag it out from under my hem while Master Íobar motioned for silence in the great house.

“My lord Eochu, the goddess Áine’s moon has changed faces many times since you first welcomed my son and me to Cruachan. May you be blessed for your hospitality. Truly your reputation for having an open hand is as well deserved as your fame in battle.” He went on to enumerate all of the ways that Father had shown himself to be the perfect host as well as the perfect king. Íobar was eloquent, warm, and gracious.

His words were also as ever-flowing as a river. There seemed to be no end to them. While he spoke, no one moved. Who would dare risk insulting the druid by inattention? All other talk was suspended. Devnet set his harp aside. No cup was raised; no morsel of food was eaten. It was a good thing that the woman carrying the king’s duck had muscular arms and stamina born of long days hauling cook pots and stirring cauldrons or she would have dropped it.

Odran slumped against me. “I’m starving,” he whispered. Our duck lay in plain sight at my feet. He gazed at it with longing.

“Starving? Starving? How can you be starving, greedy guts?” I hissed back. “You ate enough of the venison to build a fawn in your stomach.”

“But I haven’t had any duck and I loooooove it,” he said plaintively.

“Eat, then,” I muttered. “Help yourself. Take that leg I cut for you.”

“Yes, but if my father sees me eating while he’s speaking—”

“Then he’ll see me eating too, and serve him right for not telling us all to go on enjoying our food. We’d appreciate his speech much more if that were so.” I stooped to pick up the duck leg, tore off a piece of the succulent flesh with my teeth, and chewed blissfully. Odran’s eyes shone with envy, but he didn’t stir to take a piece of duck for himself. It annoyed me beyond all reason.

Is he that frightened of Master Íobar?
I thought peevishly.
And so is Father! Has either of them seen proof that he can cast a curse that
works
? They’re men! They’re supposed to be brave! Why do I have to show them how it’s done?

“Oh, here,” I growled impatiently, and crammed a chunk of meat into Odran’s mouth just as Master Íobar said:

“… whose beautiful daughter, Lady Maeve, has shown me that the greater good for us all will not come from bringing my son to Avallach, but from leaving him to pursue his studies here. Lady Maeve, you have my thanks.”

Everyone turned to look at me.

“Rrrrfff?” I responded, wide-eyed, my mouth full of roast duck, my greasy fingers caught between Odran’s lips.

Feared as he was, Master Íobar was not feared enough to hold back the roar of laughter that now filled our hall. All he could do was wait for it to die away. Father tried to restore order but was hampered by the fact that he was hoarse from his
own loud mirth. The only three people who didn’t join in the helpless glee were Master Íobar, Odran, and me.

“Did I hear right?” Odran asked. “Did he say I’m to stay?” I bobbed my head. “So that’s what you meant about it being a lucky time for otters. You knew about this; you made it happen for me. Oh, Maeve!” He clutched my hand.

If I made it happen, I may have ruined it too
, I thought.
What if Master Íobar believes these people are laughing at him, not me? If he changes his mind and takes Odran to Avallach to avenge the insult, I can’t stop him, and Father … would Father even try?

The last chuckles and titters in the great house faded, replaced by an uneasy silence. Unless I had no skill for reading faces, everyone I saw had realized that their outburst might have consequences if Master Íobar took it badly. Our mightiest warriors looked as nervous as boys caught stealing apples, our highborn guests shared their unease, and even Master Owain and Master Niall looked uncomfortable.

Only Devnet remained untroubled, smiling his drowsy smile.

Is Master Íobar so high-ranked or so formidable that even his fellow druids fear him?
I wondered.
Which side would they take if it came down to Father’s authority set against Master Íobar’s? Would they stand with their king against his curses or hide in silence?
I didn’t like the possibilities.

Father stood up, coughed a few times, and began to express his regret for what had happened, but Master Íobar would not let him apologize.

“It was my fault for interrupting Lady Maeve’s dinner,” he said, waving a hand so sparkling with rings it looked as though he were juggling live coals. “How happy I am to see her
relishing my gift! Lord Eochu, you will pardon me for having seen to it that your lovely daughter was served ahead of you. It is my poor way of paying tribute to her countless merits. If I have offended you by doing this, name my penalty.” The submissive words flowed from his tongue easily, but his eyes added,
If you dare
.

“Master Íobar, say no more about it. When you honor my daughter, you honor me,” Father replied. He sounded relieved by the way matters had played out. “Now let’s have some of this fine duck before it grows cold.”

“As you say, Lord Eochu. I hope you will find it to your taste.” Master Íobar motioned imperiously for the servant to set down the platter for Father. Was I the only one who disliked the way that the druid was giving orders to our people?

“The duck will taste better if you have the first portion, Master Íobar,” Father said cordially. “It’s good for friends and allies to eat from the same dish.”

“It’s better when husbands and wives do the same.” The druid’s smile stretched wide, and his glittering black eyes fastened onto Odran and me. Every gaze in the great house followed his. “Even if the marriage bond still lies in their future. See how prettily she feeds my son the best tidbits with her own hands. She makes no secret of her feelings for him. Be careful, Odran! You’ve been given a treasure. Every man here is jealous of you tonight.”

Was there truth in the notion that the druids were masters of magic? Did they control the weather, the seasons, the fortunes of living things, and even time itself? I could believe it, for Master Íobar’s words caused the flow of all actions around me to slow to a crawl. I watched Father’s expression go through
painful changes from serenity to shock as the thing we’d once joked about became reality. I felt his astonishment spread out from him to encompass everyone there.

Our highborn guests, the men who’d seen me as their hero’s portion, now sat glowering as Master Íobar whisked it from under their noses. Why didn’t they speak out? Were they like Father, dreading his power too deeply? If so, that didn’t keep them from muttering. My ears caught scraps of their outrage.

They loathed Master Íobar for his blatant ploy to advance himself through his son. With one breath they scorned Father for not destroying the presumptuous druid, yet with another they agreed that if Master Íobar intimidated the High King so badly, none of them would hazard challenging him. They called my father weak as self-righteously as if they didn’t share his weakness.

They murmured, “If our king’s that gutless, let the princess have the druid’s boy and let that stripling have Connacht. Then let’s see how long he holds on to what his father won for him. His head will fall to the first man who finds an excuse to challenge him. Maiden or widow, Lady Maeve will still be a sweet prize.”

The rumble of their anger rose. I looked at Odran and saw him staring at his father, astounded by what that man had sprung upon us. His face was stiff and white with shock, only his lips trembling over what he didn’t dare to say.

I dared.

I rose to my feet. “Odran is safe from any man’s envy, Master Íobar. You have no worries. We are not betrothed.”

My brashness caused a fresh stir. I had done what none of the grown men present had the nerve to do. Father looked
ready to leap forward and rush me away, out of the hall, out of the house, out of the ringfort—to carry me as far as necessary to shield me from paying the cost of contradicting Master Íobar publicly.

The druid was unfazed. His benign look remained in place. “You’re right, Princess,” he said. “You and Odran are not formally pledged. Not yet, but we can seal the bond tomorrow and celebrate it properly the day after, before your father and I leave for Tara. Then he and I will have those happy memories to ease our journey.”

“I’m sorry to deprive you of that pleasure.” I held my ground, but inside I was shaking so badly I imagined I heard my bones clattering together. “There will be no bond and no betrothal. Odran and I will not marry.”

What are you doing?
a panicky voice shrieked through my mind.
Shut your stupid mouth before you lose everything. Let Master Íobar have this betrothal, if that’s the price for keeping Odran here
.

That price is too high
. I banished the idea of surrender.
Odran is dear to me
—the pulse at the base of my throat fluttered as I recalled how easy it was to lose myself when we kissed—
very dear, but that’s why I can’t let this happen. If we marry, if we’re even betrothed, it will be an unforgettable insult to every warrior and king who ever saw himself as my husband. They’ll kill Odran and rise up against Father, thinking he’s too weak to be High King. Whether or not he wins against them, our people will suffer. I am Connacht’s princess. I won’t let that come to pass
.