“My talents lie in inflicting wounds, not patching them up, but I appreciate it.” His gaze fell onto the book she was reading. “Catching up on your history lessons?”
She leaned back, pulling the book closer to her chest. “I admit, my military training was lacking as a child. My parents always encouraged me to focus on other things, different battles. But that mindset doesn’t serve me anymore. I need to make up for lost time.”
Her resolve was admirable, but he couldn’t help but notice the flaw in her plan.
“A book won’t help you hold a blade.”
“Sitting around and doing nothing won’t help me either,” she retorted. “Your instinct might be to pick up a sword—mine’s a book.”
Ronan reached for the dagger he kept at his side. “May I?” he asked. When she nodded, he took her hand, gently, and curled his palm around hers, placing her delicate fingers around the pommel. “Thatis how you hold it. The key is to keep your grip strong, but not stiff. You want to be able to control it, not let itmove you.” As he spoke, he moved her arm with his, guiding her through a few basic positions. “A sword will be different, but the principle is the same.”
She looked down for a moment, then handed the dagger back to him.
“What did you come in here for?”
Ronan blinked at her question. He had almost forgotten. “I was planning to do more research into the Diamhair Mountains. Contrary to what you seem to think, my instinct is also to pick up a book.”
She didn’t seem embarrassed by his calling out her assumptions. Instead, there was curiosity in her eyes.
“You’re worried about why Tinelann might be breaking the treaty,” she said. “I questioned the same thing myself. After the meeting, I found myself wondering if travel wasn’t the only reason they might be using the mountains.”
“The seas are calm enough for them to sail. If they needed access to the rest of Inismian, there are less risky routes,” he said.
Clíodhna’s smile now was different from the ones he’d seen before—sincere rather than painted on. “Which means there’s another motive.”
Ronan nodded. “There’s the obvious reason: using the mountain pass, they could send men into our kingdoms discreetly. If they’re careful, they could even establish bases in the cliffs for further military movement.” He walked to one of the bookshelves, searching. “With the Diamhairs’ strategic location, and the treaty ensuring they won’t be disturbed, it’s a smart plan. So long as they don’t get caught.” After finding what he was looking for, he brought the book to Clíodhna.
“I agree. But what if there’s more?” She glanced down at what he held:The Time of the Treibh Anam.When she looked up, her eyes were sparkling. “I’m glad I’m not the only one thinking it! They could be looking for Ríoghain’s Jewel.”
Everyone had heard the stories of the Gifts of the Treibh Anam. The flower, the tree, the harp, the net, and the jewel. They were history and myth, the treasures of the gods. Magical items that shaped Inismian’s past and helped the kingdoms survive. Ríoghain’s Jewel had always been the most desired gift—coveted by those who deserved it the least, as power often is. But it had been lost for centuries.
“Some Draoi believe it’s been hidden in the mountains since Ríoghain came back to Inismian to take it from High King Mael.” Ronan flipped through the pages until he found the chapter.
Clíodhna traced the illustrations on the page. There was the high king of centuries ago, standing proudly on the Hill of Tiarnas. At the center of his crown was a stunning bloodred crystal.
“I remember him from my lessons as a child,” she said. “The gem granted him strength that matched his will, its energy channeled directly from Tír Síoraí. But it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted all the gifts of the Treibh Anam and planned to conquer Inismian to get them.”
“Which is when Ríoghain stepped in,” Ronan finished.
“The text says Ríoghain returned the jewel to ‘the heart of Inismian.’ The Diamhair Mountains. Mael began to search but was killed in an avalanche—most likely Ríoghain’s doing, if I had to guess,” Clíodhna said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ronan replied, smiling.
“If the jewel is there, it makes sense that someone seeking power would hunt for it. And think, it could be tied to the Ionróiran attacks as well. They would only be bold enough to attack Domhnall if they have support from an Inismian kingdom—and King Ardal might be desperate enough to offer it to them in exchange for a distraction.”
“And assistance in getting land and resources from the south.”
“Scáilca would be too strong of a force to take on his own—”
“Which is why he would gladly work with the Ionróirans. He sends them to continue their attacks, potentially robbing the kingdom of an heir and creating instability in Scáilca. Meanwhile, Tinelannians search the mountains for the jewel, and King Ardal plans an attack on Scáilca once it’s deemed weak enough.” The words flowed out of him, their ideas bouncing off each other to reveal the bigger picture.
Clíodhna paused. “Álainndore hasn’t been attacked, but I believe we might have been targeted. Supplies were stolen in our northern villages neighboring the Diamhairs. They may already see us as weak enough to take advantage of.” Her voice was steady, but Ronan could hear the fear behind it.
He chose his words carefully. “They could be preparing for a larger-scale attack and planning to use the Diamhairs to do it. There was a reason, back in Álainndore, that Domhnall wanted to investigate Redhallow. It would be a good village to take if Tinelann was looking to begin expanding past the mountains. It’s less connected to the rest of Álainndore, but close to both Tinelann and the Scáilcan border.”
“So Álainndore is their focus.” She spoke quietly, but it might as well have been a shout.
Álainndore hadn’t seen war for decades, since long before the reign of the current king and queen. Ronan didn’t even know the size of their army. While he had critiqued Domhnall for how he handled the situation with Clíodhna, his perception of her kingdom wasn’t wrong. They were woefully unprepared for war.
