Dornáin claimed he had some maps to look over, but Clía knew he was eying his tent, eager to sleep undisturbed. Left alone by the fire, the two girls simply sat and watched the flames twirl in the winter breeze.
Before the silence could smother them, Niamh spoke.
“Are you happy?” Her voice was low, hesitant. “With how everything has turned out. Are you happy?”
Clía was surprised by the question, but she answered it honestly.
“I hate to think of Sárait unconscious in that infirmary. But other than that? Yes, I think I am.” Niamh’s gaze was pensive. The fire lit her dark brown hair in rays of gold and red, sun and blood. “Are you?”
Niamh’s carefully constructed mask was gone. In its place was a lost girl, looking for solutions in the sparks of a fire. “I don’t know.”
“You have Domhnall, and a future anyone would trade theirlives for,” Clía said carefully. It was the truth—but she also knew just how empty that prize truly was.
Niamh’s shoulders rose with the walls around her. “You’re right.”
Clía cursed herself for shattering their tentative truce. She tried again. “I don’t know if I ever really knew what I wanted. Not until now.”
An empty laugh came from Niamh. “If I recall, you left your life of luxury and wealth to become a warrior, all to convince a man to marry you. You seemed very confident in what you wanted then.”
“That’s not fair—”
“You didn’t love him. I know that much. Perhaps you loved the idea of him. The wealth, the title, the poise. That was all you really wanted. He was your prince come to bring you admiration and the love of the people.” Clía wanted to stop her, tell her how wrong she was, but the words were stuck in her throat. “Tell me,” Niamh said, and leaned closer, “if your parents hadn’t pushed so hard for your marriage, would you still have wanted to marry him?”
Frustration filled the places where she should have held answers. “And you expect me to believe you love him?”
“No. I feel nothing for the prince, but I know what I’m getting into. I know why I want to marry him, and he knows as well. I am not tricking anyone, least of all myself.”
“I’m not a fool.”
“You’re not. You are many things—stubborn, prideful, determined, strangely sincere—but you are no fool. In skill and soul,you’re better than most. I admit, I may not have been the kindest when you first arrived at Caisleán, and I’m sorry for that. I couldn’t risk you getting in the way of my engagement to Domhnall. But I know better now. The question is, do you?” Niamh turned to her. Clía held her gaze, fighting any urge to shrink back.
“I don’t want to marry him. I don’t think I ever did.” She thought the words would feel different on her lips. Heavier, bittersweet. But instead, she felt light. They were a reconciliation of her heart and her lingering fears. She sat up straighter. “He was my friend and my future, and everyone expected it of me. He was all I knew. I didn’t want to disappoint everyone, and perhaps I clung to him tighter than I should have.”
For so long, Domhnall had been the closest thing she knew to love, but it was only content obligation. Her mind drifted to the night before, to tangled limbs and close embraces. Now she knew love, and she couldn’t believe she could ever confuse the two emotions.
Niamh looked back at the fire, seemingly accepting this answer. She took out the food they had packed and began cooking. Enough for two.
“Why are you marrying Domhnall?” Clía asked, before remembering herself. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Niamh sent her a look that seemed to list the various ways she could kill her. Clía quickly glanced toward the forest and the shadows within. No matter the strides they’d made in their friendship tonight, it would be all too easy for Niamh to kill her with no witnesses.
There was a sigh. “As a child, my father always had high hopes for me. I’m the eldest, and my brothers were never as interestedin following Ríoghain’s path. My father would train me every day in swords, bows, daggers—any weapon you can think of. He had always been afraid. He feared someone would try to attack him or hurt him through us. It was my job to protect my mother and brothers when he was away on missions.”
“No wonder you’re so... muscular.” The second the words left her mouth, Clía wished she could hide in a cave. Maybe not come out until all language had been wiped from the world.
But Niamh laughed. It wasn’t mocking or cruel. A genuine, surprised laugh.
This, she thought,is a moment to be spoken of for years to come. Clíodhna Fionnáin made Niamh Morrigan laugh.
“Thanks,” Niamh said. As quiet fell, the warrior focused intently on the fire. “When he passed away, his paranoia spread to my mother. She insisted it wasn’t age or illness, like the doctors said.It was orchestrated, she would tell me.The throne turned against him.He died in his sleep. Peacefully. A death many would covet.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. But I’m a little confused how this relates to Domhnall.”
Niamh sent her a wry look. “Add impatient to that list of traits of yours.” She prodded at the flames with a twig. “My mother is not quiet with her conspiracies. And because of it, the family name my father worked so hard to distinguish is in jeopardy. My brothers’ futures are at risk. Marrying Domhnall would solve that. People would forget my mother’s treasonous whispers, I could ensure my father is remembered as a hero, and I would be remembered as the queen of a great kingdom.”
The warrior woman’s jaw was set, eyes burning as brightlyas the flames before them. Clía had known her strength, her cunning, but now she understood: Niamh was a weapon forged in the hottest flames, first to strike and last to fall.
But the world wasn’t a battlefield, and there was more to life than legacy. “Are you happy with Domhnall? Even if you don’t love him.”
