Dallan stepped forward, raising his hand to signal for silence. “I willingly accept the judgment of treason and its consequences,” Dallan announced, hardly believing he’d just uttered those words. “And you will witness the respect your king has for you in his acceptance of your will and cease undermining him, lest you, also, become oath breakers.”
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur as they decided on his method of execution for the morn. Morda caught him aloneonce everyone had dispersed, more distraught than Dallan had ever seen him.
“What are you thinking?” he demanded. “We could have found another way! Surely, we could have convinced them.”
Dallan wished it were so, but he knew there was no other way. “I won’t be the reason you lose your life or your kingdom.”
“And I won’t be the reason my favorite nephew dies tomorrow. Come, Fachtna has agreed to a private meeting.”
Several minutes later, Dallan, Morda, and Fachtna sat in the solar at Nás, glaring at one another.
“I know what you want,” Fachtna taunted.
“A resolution wherein our nephew doesn’t die?” Morda growled. “Aye, and it’s what you should want as well. He’s your family, and you and I both know you’re only going after him in an attempt to weaken me.”
Fachtna sat back, his face hard as he turned to Dallan. “I’m sorry you’ve been caught in the midst of this, boy, but it’s what needs doing. Morda, you know I should be your second. Kinship always passes between brothers before generations. It may not be law, but it’s tradition.”
“If I made you my second, you’d murder me and crown yourself before marching our people to slaughter at the hands of Mumhain,” Morda replied, his voice unnervingly calm.
“I could kill you right now and take the throne,” Fachtna retorted, “but I would likely lose much of the support I’ve worked for from the council. The same is true if I were to kill you as your second.”
Dallan didn’t like that they’d somehow passed over the issue of his execution and were now speaking solely of murdering one another. He cleared his throat, interrupting Morda. “What can we do to convince you to stay the execution?”
Fachtna shook his head. “The council has spoken, and I do believe you’ve overstepped your oaths. If Morda goes back onthe sentence now, he’ll only seem weaker. And, as you observed, many of the councilors already see how weak he has grown since Dyflin.”
Morda’s face reddened, his lips thinning. Dallan imagined the king was even now contemplating Fachtna’s death over such a bold statement.
“Peace and weakness are not one and the same,” Morda ground out. “A peaceable man, who does not draw his sword at every slight, is far stronger than one who gives into such base behavior.”
“Alright, peaceable man,” Fachtna sneered. “Name me as second, swear to declare war on Brian at the first opportunity, banish this oath breaker from Laigin, and make arrangements to retire to Armagh. Then, perhaps I will see if I can sway the council from execution.”
Dallan scoffed aloud. “Ironic, don’t you think, that you call me oath breaker when you plot to break your oath of truce to Brian?”
“Spoken like his hound,” Fachtna spat.
“That’s an insult, not an answer,” Dallan said.
Dallan could see Morda’s frustration as he watched his kingdom slip from his hands. A year ago, before the defeat at Dyflin, Morda could have simply overturned Fachtna’s demands and the council would have supported him in doing so. But now, they were as likely to turn on him and seize the kingdom for themselves as to stand behind him, perhaps more so. He couldn’t risk it, or he’d be risking war.
“Here are my terms,” Fachtna began. “If Dallan is executed, and Morda allows the council to choose his second, I swear Morda will come to no harm.”
“Unacceptable,” Morda snarled, his patience clearly waning.
“Here areourterms,” Dallan declared, casting a quick glance at Morda before staring down Fachtna. “If I am executed, youwill cease vying for the throne and undermining Morda’s rule. You will never become his second, and no harm will come to him. The council will choose his second, so long as it is not you. They will be made aware of this bargain, and if it is broken they are within rights to punish you with your own execution. You will get to make a spectacle of me, as you clearly desire. You will get to win this ridiculous power struggle by doing so. And you will not have Brian’s hound within your kingdom, advising your king.”
Morda’s face fell, his eyes grim. Fachtna looked from his brother to Dallan before nodding.
“Agreed.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
She was losingher mind. Absolutely, undoubtedly, going crazy. Even as she rode into the courtyard at Nás, Niamh couldn’t believe she’d done such a thing. Thanks to Brian’s intense campaigning over the past decade, travel within the kingdom was relatively safe, even for a woman on her own.
Máire and her mother had made Niamh promise to send for them if everything went well on her arrival, and they would come join her in Nás. Until then, they would remain in Thurles and salvage what they could from the wreckage of their cottage.
Swallowing her doubts, she dismounted, handing her horse to the groom and wandering toward the building he’d told her was the hall.
This was her chance, she reminded herself. She could stay instead of walking away again. She could choose Dallan, a future with the man she’d always loved. This time, she wasn’t running away.
