Niamh’s stomach dropped. She knew what was coming. She knew the right thing to do. “Never see him again. I know.”
“The opposite, actually.”
Niamh looked up at her mother, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You have been so quiet, so sad, since that day all those years ago. Why not give yourself the chance for a better life? Why not tell him your secret and let him decide? I know you still love him.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Youcan,” her mother pressed, “and I think youshould. Not for him, for you. The worst that could happen is he agrees with you and you remain unmarried, but at least you’d know for certain. You could move on with your life.”
“The worst that could happen is he tells me it matters not, that he doesn’t want children, and the fact that I can’t have any doesn’t change how he feels. Because then I would marry him. And when he realized I meant it, that I wasn’t imagining it or misunderstanding my condition, when hefinallyunderstood he would never have any heirs to his kingdom, he would leave me.”
Her mother pulled her into her arms, squeezing her shoulders in a tight hug. “Dallan is a better man than your father,” she whispered. “I don’t think he would leave.”
Niamh pulled away to face her mother. “Then he would take a second wife, as Alva’s husband will if she doesn’t conceive soon. Or his family would declaim the marriage for lack of heirs. There is no good ending.”
Her mother patted her hand gently then stood, a frown creasing the lines on her face. “It’s your mistake to make. But you know my thinking on the matter. Now get some rest.”
Niamh pulled Morrígan to lay on her chest, petting her soft, tickly fur. For most of her life, she’d taken the advice her mother offered. But this? It was ridiculous.
Of course, she wished she could just tell Dallan everything, marry him, and live happily together.
But Niamh knew life wasn’t really like the ballads sung by the bards. Allowing herself to believe otherwise was a certain path to a shattered heart.
Her father had more than proven that.
Chapter Thirteen
The following morn,Dallan inhaled his oat bread and hard cheese, grabbing a handful of smoked salmon and two apples as he stood, preparing to rush to the infirmary. Cormac’s hard stare and Diarmid’s mocking smile stopped him in his tracks.
“What?” he demanded.
Cormac shook his head, apparently choosing not to comment, and turned back to his own meal.
Diarmid nodded toward the pair of apples. “Off to proclaim your love, are you? Won’t that enchanting healer know what apples symbolize?”
“Shall I bring her your bread instead, then?” Dallan growled in response. He’d learned his lesson the last time he’d proclaimed his love to that particular healer. It wasn’t an experience he cared to repeat anytime soon.
Diarmid sat back from his meal, crossing his arms and regarding Dallan thoughtfully. “What’s with you and this woman? You’re behaving strangely.”
Cormac looked back up.
Dallan shifted his weight as the two brothers inspected him closer than he liked. “I need to get to the infirmary. Are you ladies done yet?”
“You haven’t shown any interest in a woman the entire time I’ve known you,” Cormac observed at last, ignoring Dallan’s impatience.
“I heard a rumor,” Diarmid began with a confident smirk, “that you already knew Niamh. From long ago.”
Dallan did his best not to react, to keep his face unreadable. He knew he’d failed when Diarmid’s smirk grew to a haughty grin and Cormac’s eyes narrowed.
“Sit.” Cormac ordered.
“But—”
“I’m your commander.” The subtle smile forming to match his brother’s signaled to Dallan that his commander was about to abuse his power.
Dallan glared at him as he returned to his seat next to Diarmid.
