“Now that we’re all here, let’s get this over with. We have much to do, and no time to waste,” Illadan declared, stepping to the center of the group, next to the flames. “Conan and Cormac are tracking Aodh’s men to ensure they stay the course north. We don’t trust him to make a full retreat, and we will pursue him back to his own territory.
“Broccan, Conan, Finn, Ardál, and I will lead two-thirds of Brian’s hosting northward in pursuit of Aodh and to rescue Lady Cara. Cormac, Diarmid, and Dallan will remain here to ensure one of Aodh’s allies doesn’t follow with a second attack on Thurles. Brona will manage the holding, excepting the fortifications and guardsmen. Is everyone in agreement?”
“How will you recover my daughter without endangering her further?” Brona asked, her voice wavering.
Broccan, the leader of Brian’s army and one of the three leaders of the Fianna, turned to face her fully. “It depends entirely on the manner in which she is being held when we come upon her. But you have my word we will do nothing to endangerher further. She will be returned to you safely, should she yet live.”
Brona swallowed hard at that statement but kept her composure. A commendable feat for anyone after all she’d been through this day.
Illadan looked to the men he’d named to pursue Aodh, instructing them to ready to leave before the next bell. Then he looked at Dallan. “Get yourself to the infirmary. Finn, help him before you go.”
“I’m perfectly able to get myself to the infirmary without a nursemaid,” Dallan muttered.
“Aye,” Illadan agreed, “but I’ve no guarantee you’ll stay there and wait for the healer to be found. You’re more stubborn than I, and that’s a notable accomplishment.”
“He’s not wrong,” Finn added unhelpfully, shoving his good shoulder toward the exit. “It’s near the chapel.”
They walked across a fine stone courtyard, passing the stables and the chapel before reaching a building much like the hall. Inside, two dozen men and women lay in varying states of injury, from minor flesh wounds to missing limbs. The rusty smell of blood and the noxious scent of festering flesh filled Dallan’s lungs. Fighting back the urge to gag, he quickly backed out of the room.
“You have to stay and see the healer,” Finn reminded him.
“I’ll wait out here,” he declared, sliding down the side of the building until he sat on a pile of wood.
Finn frowned but didn’t argue with him. “I’m coming back here to check on you before I go, and your sorry arse had better be here or you’ll need more than a healer.”
Dallan chuckled at Finn’s idle threat. “What? I’ll need a priest?”
“Don’t make me do it. It’ll upset Eva.”
“Fine, fine,” Dallan waved him away. “I swear I’ll behave.”
Finn turned, leaving Dallan alone with his thoughts. Thoughts he’d been trying not to acknowledge, that brought back feelings and memories he’d prefer to leave in the past.
But it seemed his past had finally caught up with him. As though the very thought summoned her, Niamh appeared in the courtyard, walking straight toward him. But she hadn’t noticed him, not yet. She carried a satchel over her shoulder and a pile of linens in one arm. Her eyes held a faraway look he didn’t care to wonder about. She stopped abruptly when she finally realized he sat in front of the building.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, unable to hide his frustration at seeing her again. “I know you aren’t here to check on me, since that would require you tofeelsomething toward me.”
A flash of hurt crossed her face, and he nearly regretted his words. Nearly. If she hadn’t ripped his heart out a few years back, he might have some pity for her. At present he couldn’t muster anything other than anger.
Shifting the pile of linens, she looked at his shoulder. Not meeting his gaze. “I’m the healer.”
Dallan blew out a frustrated breath. “Of course you are.”
Chapter Eight
She deserved that.And more. Niamh knew how deeply she’d hurt him. Part of her wanted to reach out to him, to find a way to make it up to him. But she knew exactly where that would lead, and it would only hurt them both.
If he knew her secret, he might actually forgive her. Which was why she hadn’t told it to him that night so long ago, in another life filled with happiness and hope. A life with possibilities. The last thing she wanted to give either of them was hope. She’d learned at a young age that hope was a dream that never came true.
So, instead of reacting to his venom, she let it seep into her. It was the least she could do, after all.
Swallowing the pain his words caused, she looked at the ground, not ready to face his anger. “I’ll need to tend to the most injured first,” she told him quietly. “I’ll be out shortly to see to your shoulder.”
His silence followed her into the putrid infirmary.
The priests had all been killed. To what end, Niamh didn’t try to determine. Had they lived, many of these wounded would have already begun healing before her arrival. She’d often worked with Father Tomás and Father Sean, both skilled healers in their own rights. Their loss was beyond words.
Now all the injured fell to her. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, Niamh wandered through the room purposefully, taking mental note of the extent of each person’s injuries. Tadhg,who’d taken a blow to the thigh, was most in need of her attention. Rolling up her sleeves and calling for men to hold him down, she set to her most unpleasant task.
