Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (4 page)

I had no destination in mind when I set out that morning, caught up as I was in the beauty I saw everywhere. This snowfall was a gift from the Fair Folk, from the gods, a magical spell that transformed familiar places with glittering enchantment. I took deep breaths and released them in great gusts of laughter. I scooped up double handfuls of snow and flung them into the sky, thrilling to feel countless tiny points of icy moisture shower over my upturned face. I walked farther and farther from home, forbidding myself to surrender to the cold. My feet began to tingle and my hands felt raw, but I went on.

I don’t know when the wolf caught my scent or how long it followed me before I realized it was there. The only sounds that weren’t hushed by that day’s wintry stillness were the harsh cries of a flock of crows flying across the pale sky. All I can
remember is a strange prickling at the back of my neck and the abrupt awareness of something intently watching me.

Don’t be such a baby
, I told myself scornfully.
You’re imagining—

Then I saw the beast. It was big-boned but scraggly, one ear badly torn and hanging limp. When it realized I’d spotted it, the wolf snarled, lips lifted to show red gums and a flash of sharp teeth, a fearsome look in its eyes. As it held me with that wild golden gaze, the hackles of its patchy gray pelt rose and it flattened its unwounded ear. I watched the creature pull back into a crouch and wondered if I had any chance at all of escape. The white silence between us stretched to eternity.

A war-shout tore through the air, riding the shaft of a warrior’s spear. The wolf yelped, pierced through the ribs with such force that its body made a long swath across the snow. A pitiful whimper, a few twitches of those huge paws, and it was over.

“Lady Maeve, are you all right?” A tall, rangy young man came loping toward me, black braids slapping against his bare back. Even in this weather, he only wore breeches, something Father’s less seasoned warriors commonly did to toughen themselves. There were no scars marking his body, a sure sign that he hadn’t yet seen battle.

“I— Yes, I am.” I glanced at the wolf’s corpse. Blood matted the gray fur and seeped into the snow. “Thank you.” I spoke no louder than a mouse’s squeak.

“Not a bad throw,” my rescuer said, bracing one foot against the dead animal’s hind leg and yanking his spear free. “I’m glad I woke in time and saw you leave Cruachan. If I hadn’t decided to follow you …” He nodded at the wolf.

“Why did you?” I must have spoken more harshly than I intended. He jerked his head back as though I’d slapped him.

“I meant no harm, Princess. I was intending to make an early start this morning anyhow, to try my luck at hunting.”

Now that I’d had a moment to really look at him, I saw that my rescuer wasn’t one of the men who’d been hounding me. I lowered my eyes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were … were someone else.”

He shrugged. “I’m no one but Kelan, Lady Maeve, and all I want is to see you safely home.”

I was too shaken by my close escape to object. I waited while he skinned the dead wolf, and secretly admired the swift, neat way he did it. He grinned as he slung the pelt over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to tell everyone how I took this trophy.”

I grabbed his arm. “But you can’t tell! Please, you mustn’t do it. If my mother hears what happened, she’ll never let me leave the hall again. She’ll tie me to a post, like a dog. She’ll treat me like an infant!”

“Which is it going to be, my lady, dog or infant?” He chuckled. “Never mind, I’ll keep your secret, I promise.”

Could I believe him? Our warriors loved to boast about their achievements. He didn’t look older than sixteen, yet he’d just killed a wolf with a single spear-cast
and
saved a princess. Would he be able to resist the temptation to brag?

“I hope you’ll do that for me,” I said. “But don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

He laid one hand on the thin bronze torque around his neck. “I, Kelan, give you my oath, sworn on your own father’s gift to me. Will that do?”

I smiled. “I hope the day comes when you can swear an oath on a torque made of gold.”

As Kelan and I walked back together, under the shadow of snow-laden boughs, he asked, “Why was it that you left the house this morning, in weather like this?”

I made a dismissive gesture. “I go out every day, in all weather.”

“So you do. People talk about it constantly. Some of the men are even laying wagers about it.”

“What sort of wagers?” I was on guard.

He shrugged. “Wagers over why no one sees you inside the ringfort from dawn to dusk. Most of them bet that you’re meeting a lad. Some say he’s a peasant, some that he’s one of our own, and a few claim you’ve enchanted a prince of the Fair Folk, no less. The highest stakes are riding on the lucky fellow’s name, though if you ask me, it’s just so they can hunt him down and give him the beating of his life.”

“Then I’m glad there’s no such person. Why would they want to do such a mean, stupid thing?”

“Ah, simple enough—because they’re all in love with you, Princess.”

My cheeks flamed. “That’s ridiculous!”

“No, it’s real enough. You’re the High King’s daughter, the one he’s favored over all the rest since the day you showed that you were brave as any boy—braver!”

“The black bull …,” I muttered.

Kelan nodded. “I was there among the other fosterling boys when Lord Eochu honored you for it, twenty cows to your sisters’ ten. Our warriors and highborn guests talked about it
for days afterward, and the news spread across all Èriu when the visiting nobles went home. That gift marked you forever as someone special, and now your father’s added to the tales surrounding you by keeping you home as his treasure. Everyone says the man who gets you gets Connacht. It’s easy to fall in love with a girl who brings her husband a kingdom.” He laughed.

I wasn’t amused. The wolf pelt draped over Kelan’s shoulder mocked me. Was that what I’d become? A trophy to be taken, a prize, a reward more precious than any golden torque? “So that’s why they stare at me all the time,” I said, half to myself.

“They want you to notice them. Our fellows believe they’re so irresistible that if you take a liking to one of them, your doting father will honor your preference before the highborn of other kingdoms begin making their offers. The first sign of interest you show to any man, he’ll leap on it like a starving dog on a meaty bone.” His lips twisted. “And the others will likely leap on
him
. You’ve spared them all plenty of bruises and broken heads by the way you always flee anything in breeches.”

I wanted to protest, to say I wasn’t running away like a coward.
But that’s exactly what I’ve been doing
, I thought, though I hated to admit a truth that made me despise myself.

“If that’s how it is, you’d better not walk me back all the way, Kelan,” I said softly. “The other men will see us together. They’ll think I’m favoring you, and then—”

“I’m safe, Lady Maeve. My comrades know I’d never have a horse in this race. My sweetheart, Bláithín, would kill me. For one of your mother’s serving girls, she’s got pride worthy of a queen.” His mirth rang out through the icy air.

I wished my heart were as light as his.
Why am I caught in this snare?
I thought, my jaw set.
Why am I letting our men
—anyone—
make me feel so uncomfortable in my own home that I have to run away? When Father comes back, I’ll tell him everything and he’ll put a stop to—

Will he?
The afterthought took me by surprise. I remembered something my sister Clothru had said on the day that a gift of twenty cows set me apart from my sisters forever: “Father will flatter his strongest allies by
awarding
the rest of us to them, but he’ll want to hold on to you as his pet bargaining token.”

That
is
how Father sees me, isn’t it?
I realized as I tramped through the snow, head bent, eyes on the ground.
I’m a gift to be given, like those cows. What I want doesn’t matter, no more than when I wanted Dubh. Father spoke as though he were going to give me the black bull, but he never did, and I had to swallow that. His choices are the only ones that count, the way he decides which warrior will have the hero’s portion when we feast
. I clenched my fists at my sides.
That’s what I am to him: the hero’s portion. And what can I do about that?

Kelan and I emerged from the trees into the open fields. I lifted my gaze and saw Cruachan, dominating the land, massive in the sunlight. Now that I knew how things truly stood for me inside those walls, my home looked like a holding pen where cattle were confined while their fates were decided for them. My spirit felt as heavy as my sodden shoes.

Suddenly, a shrill cry slashed across the brilliance of the winter sky. The fierce, commanding call tore my eyes from the ringfort to where a solitary bird hovered effortlessly in the heavens, its elegantly shaped wings sharply outlined against the blue. It was too far away for me to see its color or markings, especially
with the sun in my eyes, but when it suddenly plunged earthward, I knew it was a bird of prey. Somewhere among the fields, a mouse or some other unlucky small creature had just lost its life to that bird’s talons. I waited patiently and after a while saw the bird rise up again, soaring free.

How beautiful
, I thought, my admiration mixed with piercing splinters of envy. Devnet sang of an ancient princess of Connacht, Caer Ibormeith, who lived every other year of her life as a swan until the god Aengus chose her. Instead of turning her into a human, he changed himself into a swan and they flew off together. His action had always puzzled me, but on that winter day, in that moment of seeing the raptor’s flight, all at once I knew that Aengus had chosen wisely.

“A kestrel,” Kelan said, shading his eyes. “They’re fierce little things—good hunters, especially that one, finding prey when the cold weather drives small creatures deep into their nests. Clever bird. Clever and stubborn.”

I scarcely heard him. My eyes were too filled with the kestrel’s grace, its strength, its freedom. The sight of it broke the spell of gloom and resignation that had settled over my heart. In that moment I knew that what I desired—what I was
born
to do—was to claim those wings for my own. I spread my arms and imagined that it was already so. I was no longer Father’s bargaining token, destined to await the day he
told
me what my life would have to be. Only cattle are driven; kestrels fly free.

I embraced my dream. I didn’t know exactly how I’d manage to fulfill it—to choose, hold, and defend my fate, to tell my father, High King of all Èriu, no. But I would; I
would
. I would learn. I would find a way. The wild kestrel was gone from sight,
but its image had become a part of me, a sign as sure as any bard’s vision.

I touched the gold torque circling my neck and silently made a binding promise: someday I would have my wings.

That wolf’s pelt became Kelan’s badge of honor. He flaunted it before all the men, both the green boys and the seasoned fighters. He told the tale so many times over dinner that his companions complained he was trying to turn himself into a bard. If Devnet had been there to hear him instead of with Father, he might have had a sarcastic thing or two to say about that.

No matter how often Kelan added details to his recital, my part in the story stayed hidden. He never mentioned my name, though sometimes he’d wink at me when no one else was looking. He kept his word and my secret.

One morning I awoke to find a blue cloak covering my feet. It was trimmed with a thick collar of gray wolf fur. My cry of surprise and delight fetched Mother so quickly that I suspected she’d been lurking just outside my doorway.

“Do you like it? Be sure to thank Kelan. He asked me if one of my ladies could make that for you. It’s not every lad who’d sacrifice his precious trophy to make a little lass happy. If I didn’t know how bound he is to my girl Bláithín, I’d say he was in love with you,” she teased.

“He’s not.”

I wrapped my new cloak around me and buried my nose in the fur. Was it an illusion or did the wolf’s pelt still hold the clean, cold smell of that snowy day? The scent conjured visions of my kestrel, wings wide, eyes fixed on its desire.

“Well, I suppose he’s just another of those men who think they’ll get your father’s favor by being nice to you. You’d better be aware of that, Maeve, and not be misled by false kindness.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said dutifully. I didn’t feel I needed to tell her that I already knew the difference between a false kindness and a true friend like Kelan.

My run-in with the wolf didn’t stop my rambling ways; it just made me stay more alert to my surroundings. I wore the furred cloak as a talisman, a charm to keep me safe wherever I went. I’d made one great change in what sent me wandering: Now I left the ringfort solely because it was my choice, for my pleasure. I was no longer running away. I refused to let anyone, fosterling or warrior, drive me from my home. Whenever I felt men’s eyes on me, I met their stares with the full force of my gaze. It was impossible to mistake it for flirtation. When I did it, I stepped into the feathered skin of the kestrel, small but bold, and looked at them as if they were my lawful prey, free to live or doomed to die by
my
decision.

Yes, do stare at me, you mouse! Do it if you dare. You won’t like the consequences
.

The effect was all I could have wanted: Even the most seasoned warriors recoiled when my fearless eyes struck them—they weren’t expecting a challenge from a girl just out of childhood. While the shock of it still lingered, I softened my expression and greeted them politely, but with the same distant courtesy Mother used when telling her servants what she wanted them to do.

Poor men, I confused them badly. It was wonderful. I’d broken their spears, spoiled their hunt, and freed myself from
fearing their attention. Mother was happier too. Ever since I’d reclaimed the right to live without harassment, I no longer had to dodge my lessons in order to dodge my “admirers.” Best of all, I’d fixed things without having to wait for Father to come home and do it for me.