One day. She’d had one day of bliss before her rash decisions came crashing down around her. In the end, just like with her father, she hadn’t been enough.
Once she was well away from that part of the keep, Niamh broke into a run. She ran past her mother and Máire, whose heads whipped to follow her. She ran past Catrin, sitting morosely before the hearth in the feasting hall. She ran straight to the infirmary, finally empty of patients, crawled onto one of the pallets, and cried.
How could she have been so foolish? How could she have believed he could still love her, really love her, once he’d learned that she was broken?
By the time all her tears had come and gone, and she lay curled up on the pallet with Morrígan beside her, Niamh realized that her mother had been right. Dallan wasn’t like her father. He was worse.
Instead of telling her to her face that she wasn’t enough, he’d gone and told his friends.
Chapter Thirty
Sometime nearing midnight,Cormac and one of the keep’s guardsmen appeared to relieve Dallan and Diarmid from their posts. Between spending the night before with Niamh and staying up half this night on guard, Dallan barely made it to his bed before he collapsed. He woke shortly after dawn to the news that Brian had just arrived with his entourage and had called a meeting in the solar.
He found the king deep in discussion with Cormac. They stood in the center of the room, Cormac nearly a head taller than the grey-haired warrior king, whom Dallan had come to respect over the past months. He could hardly believe he was leaving Brian and the Fianna.
Walking over to join them near the small hearth, Dallan intended to beg a private word with Brian prior to the meeting, to tell him of all that had transpired. Instead, Diarmid, Catrin, and Brona filed into the room. It seemed his news would have to wait.
The disgraced queen sat in silence as they once more repeated Catrin’s story and relayed to Brian the details of the meeting yesterday.
“Is that the truth of it?” Brian demanded of Brona when all had been told.
“All but the barbarian’s crimes, aye. He still set Thurles ablaze, murdered innocent villagers, killed my husband.”
“Men have started wars over smaller slights than that you paid Aodh,” Brian growled, as angry as Dallan had ever seen him. “We’re lucky he only took one hostage. Do you realize how much danger you’ve placed this kingdom in? He was less than a day’s march from Caiseal! You invited him without permission, you broke the sacred vows of hospitality, you began the battle that destroyed your holding, and you betrothed your daughter to one of my enemies without my involvement. A just man would have you pay with your life for such treachery.”
The color slowly drained from Brona’s face as Brian laid her crimes out plainly. And, to Dallan’s thinking, the king had the right of it. The woman had endangered more than just her daughter with her scheming.
But Dallan knew that Brian, though just, was also tender-hearted. As much as he tried to hide it, the king ended feuds with marriages and hostages as often as possible to avoid unnecessary loss of life. He’d deny it with all the vigor left to him and he’d boast of all the foreigners he’d slaughtered, but he couldn’t hide it from those who knew him best.
And, by some odd twist of fate, Dallan now counted himself among those close to the king.
“However,” Brian continued, cutting the thick silence like a boat through still waters, “Your daughters have saved you.”
“What?” Brona croaked, her hoarse voice filled with surprise. “How?”
“Catrin, at great personal risk, admitted to warning Aodh of your ill intent against him. She, at least, behaved as a host ought and enabled him to escape with his life.”
Brona swallowed, eyes wide, as she frowned at Catrin. She pursed her lips, and Dallan decided she might be literally biting her tongue to keep from getting herself into more trouble.
“And then there’s Cara, who sacrificed herself to save what remained of the family you destroyed,” Brian continued. “I willnot reward your daughters’ honor and selflessness with your death. Instead, you will live out the rest of your days at the monastery of Cill Dara.”
“Thank you,” Brona managed, her tone icy.
Dallan waited with great curiosity for the end of Brian’s speech. He and Diarmid had debated who might be made king of Thurles, but no one really knew what he intended. Dallan caught Diarmid’s gaze as Brian started speaking again.
“Now, then,” the king declared, “we arrive to the matter at hand. I am here to establish new leadership in Thurles. After giving it great thought. I believe we can create an opportunity from this misstep. Provided Cara yet lives and my Fianna can retrieve her, she will be queen of Thurles.
“I have threatened Sitric of Dyflin with a betrothal to strengthen our alliance for months. Cara will go to Dyflin to marry him, and he will gain Thurles among his assets. Finally, Catrin,” the king turned to speak to her directly, “you will act as steward of Thurles whenever your sister is absent.”
It was a brilliant solution, Dallan realized, though he knew Diarmid would be as shocked as he was by the appointment of the two princesses as queen and steward of Thurles. Dallan would wager Brian’s previous marriage to his aunt, Gormla, may have something to do with his willingness to name a queen over a king. That Gormla had survived marriages to two of the nine kings of Ireland, and a possible affair with a third, and now helped her son Sitric rule Dyflin was a testament to the strength of women. She and Brian had both had too much fire in them to last, but Dallan knew the king still respected her.
Dallan hung back, standing near the door as everyone filed out. He shut it after Cormac left, making a mental note to find him and say farewell before he left for Laigin.
“It concerns me that you’re frowning,” Brian said, sitting in the nearest chair.
Dallan joined him, taking a seat in the chair opposite. “I don’t want to leave.”
“But you are.” It wasn’t a question.
