Naamah's Kiss (12 page)

When Cillian came next, he was in a rare state. "There's been a raid!" he informed me, his mood somewhere betwixt jubilant and belligerent. "A Tarbh Cro raiding party wearing the mac Niall's colors. They made off with two dozen head of cattle in broad daylight, taunting us all the while."

"Oh, aye? Listen"

"They reckon the Dalriada have gone soft," he interrupted me. "Studying at the Academy and all. 'Tis true, my father's men were slow to respond"

"Cillian"

"But we mean to go after them!" he finished triumphantly.

I folded my arms. "We?"

He flushed. "Do you not reckon me a proper warrior?"

"I reckon you a lover and a scholar," I said in a soothing tone. "Cillian, don't be daft. Didn't Eamonn mac Grainne and his Skaldic bride found the Academy to give young men wiser and more productive pursuits than cattle-raiding?"

"Aye, but I don't imagine he meant to geld us in the process!" he said sharply. "A man must defend his home and property. Do you not think me capable?" I do.

"You don't seem it."

I sighed. "Is it not a matter for the courts?"

Cillian glowered. "Oh, courts be damned. What do you and your wild kin care for courts? It's just a bit of sport, Moirin. Will you begrudge me the chance to prove myself a man?"

"I wasn't aware it was in need of proving," I said pointedly.

"Look" He took a deep breath. "You don't understand. I have to do this. As my father's son, I cannot let this insult stand. Arguing about it won't change matters. And I fear I can't linger, either. We ride out before dawn. Will you come back to Innisclan with me? Aislinn says you can wait and worry with her."

I made a face at him. "All right, then. I reckon I'd rather endure your mother's disdain than wait and worry on my own."

Cillian kissed me. "That's my girl!"

Although there was ample time on the ride to Innisclan, I didn't tell him about my mother's revelation as I'd intended before he arrived. His head was filled with details of the raid to come, and I didn't want to distract him. Truth be told, I'd no idea what manner of warrior Cillian was. I knew he was trained to wield a sword, and that on the hurling field where the young men played with sticks and a ball, he was one of the most skilled athletes.

But Alba had been at peace for a long while. The Cruarch, Faolan mab Sibeal, was reckoned a wise and sensible fellow, carrying on the legacy of Alais the Wise, our common ancestor. There hadn't been a major dispute on Alban soil in living memory, only foolish skirmishes like this promised to be, between young men with an excess of high spirits and a shortage of common sense.

I didn't care for it, not one bit.

Cillian, however, was in uncommonly good spirits now that I'd agreed to come. He related with relish the tale of how the D'Angeline prince Imriel de la Courcel had won the respect of the folk of Clunderry by staging a cattle-raid against a neighbor who'd given him insult. I was quiet, remembering the slain princess, the green burial mound, and the stone circle that smelled of ancient blood. At length, Cillian noticed my silence and faltered, recalling the way that tale ended and my people's role in it.

"Forgive me," he said with genuine contrition. "I don't suppose that's a tale the Maghuin Dhonn care to remember."

"We do, actually." I'd never told him about the pilgrimage to Clunderry. When it came to it, I was as bad as my mother for keeping secretsbut it had always seemed a private thing. "Many of us gather at Midsummer to remember it that we should never be guilty of such pride and folly again."

"The Hellenes have a word for it. They call it 'hubris.'" He hesitated. "Were they kin of yours ? The magicians ?"

I shrugged. "We are nearly all kin to some degree. One day, I suppose there will be too few of us to continue, else we should grow as inbred as your father's hounds."

"All the more reason to wed me," Cillian commented. "New blood."

I glanced down at my arms encircling his waist, the honey-colored hue of my skin. "That, I think, is not one of my worries."

"True," he agreed. "I'll grant you that one."

On the handful of occasions I'd visited Innisclan after that first time, it had always been quiet and peaceful. Today, it was roiling. The playing field was torn up by young men in wicker chariots dashing around, yelling and waving swords.

"Stone and sea!" I stared. "It's a whole army!"

Cillian laughed. "Nowhere near. 'Tis just a raiding party."

In my head, I knew it to be true. The Dalriada hadn't armed in full force since they helped restore Drustan mab Necthana, my own thrice-times-great-grandfather, to the Cruarch's throneand then crossed the Straits to aid the D'Angelines in beating back the invading Skaldi. Many thousands had fought in that war.

But thousands was only an abstract number. When one is accustomed to solitude, fifty howling lads can seem a great many.

"Go on." Cillian nudged me fondly. "I've got to join this lot. You'll find Aislinn in the great hall."

I dismounted and fled.

I found Aislinn in the laundry, supervising the boiling of linen bed-sheets. "Moirin!" she greeted me warmly. "I'm glad you've come; it means the world to Cillian. Did you try to dissuade him?"

"I did," I admitted.

"So did I, but Father would have none of it." She cast a critical eye over a sheet hung on a rack. "Is that quite dry?"

"Aye, my lady!" a sweating maid gasped.

"Well and good." Aislinn tugged it loose. "Come, you can help me cut bandages. When the damage is tallied, I reckon there will be some sore headsand likely worse. It will be a point of pride for them to claim they were tended by the hands of a princess of the Dalriada and one of Alais the Wise's own descendants."

"Will it?" I asked.

"It will," she assured me.

It was good to have something to do. We retired to a quiet salon. Aislinn hummed to herself, shears flashing. I did my best to emulate her, sawing away at the clean fabric in an effort to create even strips. We tidied up the loose threads and coiled them into rolls and laid them in a basket. Her mother was nowhere in evidence, for which I was grateful.

"So," she said after a time.

"So?"

Her grey eyes were keen. "Will you wed my brother?"

I flushed. "Please don't ask that of me."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes, of course!" I'd been all right while we were working in silence, but now the stone walls of the salon began to close in on me. It was hot. I tugged at the bodice of my dressit was the green dress Aislinn had loaned me a year ago, she'd made me a gift of itand struggled for air. "It's just that I'm not meant to live this kind of life."

"So it seems." Aislinn summoned a maidservant to bring a jug of cool water. I drank gratefully. "Moirin please don't take this amiss. I'm not my mother to imagine that you've enchanted Cillian to some dire purpose. It's quite simple. You're a rare and lovely creature and he dotes on you."

I set down my glass of water. "But."

"But he is the son of the Lord of the Dalriada, not a country peasant without a care in the world beyond the next day's meal. Gods forbid, if something were to befall my father, Cillian would be my heir. He cannot run off and live in the woods with youyet while you string him along, he will not look at any other. If you cannot make a life with him here, I wish you'd make a clean break of it."

"My mother said as much," I murmured.

"Your mother sounds like a wise woman," Aislinn said.

I felt betrayed. "You claimed you were glad I came here."

"And so I am," she said steadily. "Today, because I wished to do you the courtesy of saying these things to your face. On the morrow, for Cillian's sake. I do not ask you to spoil his moment of triumph. But will you think on what I've said?"

Little though I liked it, it was fair. "I will."

She kissed my cheek. "Thank you."

There was a great feast that night, platter after platter emerging from the kitchen. The long table was thronged. Uisghe flowed freely, and when the food had been picked over by the ravenous horde, there was music to accompany bloodthirsty songs bawled at the top of the young men's lungs. Lord Tiernan watched it all with an indulgent smile. It was hot and sweltering and awful and I hated every minute of it.

Many of the would-be warriors passed out from drink and began snoring where they lay, Cillian among them. I brushed the auburn hair from his brow and kissed him, preparing to make my escape. I couldn't face the prospect of trying to sleep in the tiny guest-chamber.

"Moirin," he said blearily. "Don't go."

"Only to the stables," I assured him. I'd slept there before. "I'll be here in the morning."

He uttered a faint snore in reply.

The guard on duty let me out without comment. I'd been here a few times by now, and they were accustomed to the witch's daughter's strange ways. Outside, it was cooler by far. I slipped out of the hated pinching slippers and breathed deeply, feeling free and easy in my skin for the first time in many hours.

As always, there was a part of me that longed to fleebut I'd promised Cillian I'd be there. He'd worry if I left, and the worry was a distraction he didn't need. So I made my way to the stables and made myself a bed of loose hay in an empty corner. It was prickly, but fragrant and clean-smelling, and the warm presence of dozens of horses dozing in their stalls was comforting in a way that human presences seldom were.

There, I slept.

I awoke in the dim hours before dawn to considerable commotion and scrambled out of my makeshift nest, dodging horses and men. Despite the night's excesses, the raiding party was assembling.

I found Cillian yawning beside a chariot and conferring with its driver. He gave me a glad, sleepy smile when he saw me, his eyes crinkling and his dimples showing. "There you are. I thought mayhap I dreamed you."

"Ah, no. I promised."

"So you did." He plucked a few stray bits of hay from my hair. "You look a mess. A gorgeous mess. Kiss me for luck?"

I did, pressing myself close to him, ignoring the hoots and envious comments it provoked. "Come back safely, will you?"

"Marry me if I do?" Cillian teased. I didn't answer. He gave my hair a gentle tug, then cupped my chin and kissed me again. He tasted of stale uisghe , and underneath it, his own familiar self. "Ah, Moirin! Don't take it so seriously. I told you, it's just a bit of sport. We'll be back before you know it."

"I pray you are," I murmured, shoving him away. "Go on with you."

They went.

They went in a great thunder of hooves, laughing and boasting and shouting to one another. I suppose it was a fine and glorious sight, all of the glossy horses, proud chariots, and long-limbed young men, but it still seemed foolish to me. I came from a dwindling people, and we cannot afford to risk our lives for sport.

It felt strange to be at Innisclan without Cillian's presence. I declined an invitation from Aislinn to pass the hours learning the fine art of embroidery and decided instead to explore the Academy's library. With all the lads away on a raid, it was quiet and empty. I found a history of the Tiberian occupation of Alba and settled in to read it, noting the differences between it and the stories my mother had told me.