Defiance (The Priestess Trilogy) (47 page)

“Have it
your
way then!” Eiladyr made another snowball. Springing from behind his hiding place, he launched his attack at the same time in which
Daire
unleashed his own.
Eiladyr’s triumphant grin faded rather quickly as he found his target had inadvertently changed.

Shiovra
stoo
d in the middle of their battle
, her hands clenched into fists
and her face bright with her vexation. Traces of snow left from the attack
clung to her cloak at her shoulder and side
.
T
aking a deep breath, t
he priestess closed her eyes, her hands
and relaxed her hands
.

Her voice was quiet, but Shiovra’s words worked their way around Eiladyr.

“Heed me, spirits of the wind: gu
sts and howls come to me,” she said. Opening her eyes, she slowly raised her hands up, pausing only a moment, before she quickly dropped them.

A sudden gale ripped across the
village and cut through the cottages
.

Eiladyr heard a rumbling above his head. He looked up in time to see the blanket of snow on the thatch roof slide down directly upon him. His face stung as the snow caked his skin. Sputtering, Eiladyr brushed it off quickly and looked back at the priestess who smirked to herself and walked away.

Glancing at Daire, he found the man had faced a similar attack. Eiladyr decided that Shiovra had won that battle, but the war between he and Daire would continue. “You alive over there?”
he shouted, looking at the man’s back.

Turning, Daire’s
reply was a snowball to
Eiladyr’s
face.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

As celebrations for midwinter began to die down, Shiovra made her way back to the main cottage, weary and spent
. Snow
continued to fall, dancing
in the light given off by the torches lining the well-worn path.
She had nearly reached the cottage door when she heard footsteps approach from behind. Turning, Shiovra found
Daire
and Eiladyr walking
up to her.

“Here,” Daire
said, handing
her
a bundle of folded cloth.

The
wool
cloth was
surprisingly
soft in her hands, as well as light-weight and thin. It was a summer cloak of the Tara clan tartan: a light blue cross-stripped with a darker green-blue.

“A new cloak,” he continued. “
I thought that, since you were so adamant about following through with the promise of alliance with Dún Fiáin, that you would want something a bit more fitting to wear for your return.”

Shiovra
smiled light and nodded, thanking him.

Eiladyr st
epped forward. “I have something
as well.” He handed her a broach which was intricately crafted. “I thought
it would suit the cloak
.”

“Thank you,” the priestess
told him.

He sh
ook his head. “There is no need to
thank me. It is a gift.” G
rinning, Eiladyr stretched. “And now it is time to get back to
the mead
!” He grabbed hold of
Daire
’s arm. “Come on, I do not want
miss all the
good mead
!” Smiling, he drug
Daire
away back
up
the path to the Banqueting Hall.

Shiovra
shook her head and sighed,
looking
down at
Daire
and Eiladyr’s midwinter gifts
.

“
Shiovra
.”

She turned to gree
t
Odhrán
as he approached her from the
doorway
. “
Aye
?” she
questioned
, studying him in the flickering torchlight.
She noticed that he held a folded blanket in his arms. Curious, she asked, “Is something the matter?”

Shaking his head, Odhrán unfolded the blanket and
draped it over her shoulders.
Moving to stand beside her, he remained silent for some time, watching the snowflakes dance in the breeze
. After a long, silence he
told her
, “Nothing is the matter. I merely wanted to give you something, without the prying eyes of others.”

“Oh?

Reaching
into his tunic
,
Odhrán
pulled
forth a small, folded piece of cloth. Taking her hand within his own, he placed the small bundle into it
.

Shiovra
looked down at her hand. She could still feel the gentle warmth of his
touch
.
Unwrapping
the cloth
she found a simple, yet beautiful, necklace. Strung upon a cord of leather was a polished stone in a rich green hue.

“It it my gift to you,” he said, taking if from her hand and moving to step behind her.

She
remained still as his warm fingers brushed against the skin of her neck, pushing her hair aside
.

Odhrán tied the necklace in place, before wrapping his arms around her and trailing kisses along her exposed skin.

Leaning back against him, Shiovra brought a hand to the stone, running her fingertips across the cool, smooth surface. “Thank you for such a lovely gift.” She could feel his smile against her skin.

“Come with me inside,” he breathed.

Her heart jumped in anticipation.

“Come,” Odhrán pressed
. “We are alone and there is so much more I desire to give you.”

Shiovra could feel her heart beat quicken in response. Nodding, she let the Milidh man guide her into the cottage.

Closing the door behind her, Odhrán took her by the hand and led her to his bed. Pulling the curtain aside, he took the cloak and broach from her and gestured to the bed.

Sitting down, Shiovra pulled her shoes from her feet and climbed across the bed. She did not wait long before Odhrán joined her.

Placing himself
between her legs, he kissed her fully
.

The priestess leaned back slowly until she lay on the bed. The heat filling her body was building up uncontrollably quick. And, when his hand pushed up the length of her shift, gliding along the smooth skin of her leg, she moaned softly.
Shiovra
was falling headlong into
unbridled
desire and she no longer cared.

Odhrán pressed his body against hers, his hands roaming every inch of her within his grasp.
“Shiovra,” he breathed heatedly.

She only clung to him in turn.

His hands moved quickly, unlacing his breeches before he pushed into her and set a fast, passion filled pace.

Shiovra
met each
demanding
thrust with her own, her nails raking against his back.
And, when he met his release, her body trembled and pulsed with her own. She held onto him long after, breath slowly calming as their body remained joined.

Odhrán caught up her hand, running
kisses along her palm and wrist before reluctantly lifting his body from hers. Pulling his breeches back into place with one hand, he trailed the fingers of his other down her cheek. “This is only the beginning, love.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Ceallach Neáll stood beside the hearth, watching Réalta Dubh as she paced back and forth. Dubheasa sat quietly at a low table along with Anlon and her son, Kieran. Ceallach’s ice-blue eyes shifted across the fire to meet Réalta’s. “With winter fully upon us, Tara will remain safe from both
Gráinne
and
Ailill
,” he said, deep voice even. “Come warm
er
times will bring worry.” Ceallach’s eyes flickered to Anlon. “One of our enemies may be dead, but another has become even more dangerous,” he continued. “
Gráinne
continues to step further and further into madness. I believe that
Méav
herself
would no longer be able to
control of her own daughter.”

“Do you believe I will be safe here?” Anlon queried.

Réalta nodded. “Aye,” she assured
him. “My sister will focus
more
upon her desire for Tara
than your
betrayal
. Besides, as of yet, she remains unaware that you served as
the eyes of the High
Chieftains
.”

He nodded, face remaining unsure.

Réalta turned to Ceallach. “What of the union?” she questioned.

Anlon glanced over at them, curious.

“
Come Beltaine Shiovra will journey to Dún Fiáin and wed the
chieftain’s
son…” Ceallach paused, his eyes narrowing on the fire. “There are other problems:
Odhrán. He is becoming very dangerous to us.”

She frowned. “
How so
?”

Ceallach
met her gaze. “The Stone of Destiny has spoken for him.”

Mild astonishment
crossed her face. “
It has chosen Odhrán?”

The Fomorii man nodded.

“How is that a danger?” questioned Réalta. “Though Milidh, I believe that he would lead Tara well. His tactics in battle alone would benefit the clan.”

“He
defied the calling of the stone,
”
Ceallach told her bluntly.

Surprise crossed the woman’s face, quickly to be replaced with anger.
“Defied it?” she bit out harshly. “He would leave Tara without a chieftain?”

“Aye.”
Ceallach fell silent as he watched the woman resume her pacing.

“What will become of us if he continues to refuse the stones calling?” Réalta murmured.

“The tides have changed once more,” Dubheasa said, rising to her feet. “Time flows like a river, endlessly changing, shifting. Once more, the flow has changed…”

Ceallach turned to the Neimidh woman. Her words were spoken oddly, as if they were not her own, but those of another.

Réalta narrowed her eyes upon Dubheasa. “What do you speak of?” she asked.

The woman’s empty
gaze shifted to Réalta.
“I speak of an end to an era,” Dubheasa said.
“Eras have come and gone many times
from Éire and so t
ime shifts once more…”

Frowning, Réalta
took a step towards the other woman, reaching a hand out.
“Dubheasa?”

The Neimidh woman
smiled distantly. “
You must accept what cannot be changed,” she continued. “You must understands what is to come and accept that another era is coming to an end.”

“I do not understand…”
murmured Réalta
.

Dubheasa
began to waver, swaying slightly.

Kieran leapt to his feet and caught his mother before she could
fell
to the ground. “Mother?” he cried out in concern
, shaking her lightly
. “Mother?”

Réalta knelt beside Dubheasa
, bringing her hand before the woman’s mouth and releasing a sigh of relief
. “She breathes,” she murmured, eyes caref
ully searching over the woman as a
small frown creased her brow. “What came over her?” she whispered in thought. Her eyes settled on the Neimidh woman’s face. “Dubheasa…”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Mahon stood before the Stone of Destiny, face calm yet uncertain. Reaching up, he touched the cold stone, letting his fingers linger. He did not protest in the lack of response from the stone. As he did not protest that, when it called out to Odhrán, the Milidh
man
had refused. Mahon found himself exhaling as he was once again reminded of her own responsibilities to Tara. Groaning, Mahon dropped his hand.

“Winter will pass quickly,” Earnán said, stepping up. “Come Beltaine, all of Éire will flock to the stone and a chieftain will be found.”

Mahon remained silent. He knew a chieftain would not be found, for one had already been deemed by the stone. He
had thought Earnán knew as much, but if Ceallach had chosen not to tell him, then there must be a reason as to why.

“You should search for a wife, Mahon,” the older man continued. “The clan of Tara grows smaller, and you are not getting younger.” He smiled and gave Mahon a pat on the shoulder. “Come now, there is a warm meal waiting for us.”