Niamh glanced down at the gold band she wore on her middle finger, her chest tightening at the memories that came with it.
Niamh’s bastard of a father had abandoned them after she refused Dallan’s proposal six years ago. Apparently, he’d been considering leaving them before, but when he thought he might gain a connection to royalty through Niamh he had stuck around just long enough to watch her dreams crumble to dust.
Then, he’d left them. Because her mother had never conceived another child, and he had begun to worry over heirs and inheritance and lineage once his merchant empire had grown enough for those things to matter. Niamh knew it wasn’treallyher fault, as he’d planned to leave long before that, but she couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for her mother’s pain.
Niamh may be doomed to a life without love, but at least she wouldn’t be forced to constantly face her own inadequacy with a disappointed husband. Her only regret was that she’d waited so long to leave him. If she hadn’t gotten so carried away, she knew she wouldn’t have hurt him as badly.
But that was her own burden to carry.
By now he probably had an entire brood of children, just as bold as their father. The thought that someone else had given them to him only deepened the ache in her heart.
But today was not about Niamh’s mistakes. Today, she needed to help Alva shoulder her own burden. Unlike Niamh, Alva still had her monthly bleeding. Her body simply needed some coaxing to help her along. She picked up the pitcher and vials she had made up for Alva, setting them on the table between them.
“Apply this primrose oil to your wrists, temples, throat, and hips each morn and each night,” she instructed, pointing to each container as she spoke. “I’ve made a tincture of milk thistle and raspberry leaves that you should take each day. Just pour a little out and drink it, but not too much. You can add honey if it helps the taste. Finally, this is an infusion of cinnamon bark andorange peel. Drink a cup every day. I’ll have more when you run out.”
Niamh may not be able to fix her own body, but she would do everything in her power to help other women fix theirs.
Alva thanked her profusely, heading home with an armful of hope.
Grabbing a willow basket from one of the hooks on the wall, Niamh donned her woolen cloak. “I’m going to pick some elderberries from the keep,” she told her mother and Máire. “I’ll be back this evening.”
Just before she shut the door behind her, Morrígan shot out into the road, pouncing on an unsuspecting bug before turning to wait for Niamh. “Well, isn’t that nice,” she said to the cat as they walked up the hill to the keep. “I’d love some company.”
Several hours later, Niamh laid in the grass beneath the grove of elderberry trees, staring at the cloudless blue sky. Morrígan had long since fallen asleep in the sunshine, her unladylike snores barely audible over the cheerful birdsong.
The elderberry harvest this year held great promise. A grove of twenty-odd trees sat right beside the keep, planted for this purpose many years earlier. Hundreds of berry clusters decorated the mantles of green leaves worn by each of the trees. She would be able to make enough syrup to last through the winter, and hopefully keep most of the folk from serious illness. Niamh had observed that if taken often during the cold season, elderberry syrup helped keep folk healthy. Once they developed a cough or a fever, however, the syrup alone wasn’t enough to return them to health. She’d need many other herbs for that, and she’d only just begun stocking up for the long winter months.
Sitting up to return to her little cottage, an unwelcome chill sent shivers down Niamh’s spine.
Something felt wrong.
Looking around, it took her several moments to finally realize what had changed.
The birds had stopped singing. Deafening silence surrounded her, interrupted occasionally by sounds from the keep nearby.
Niamh stood, gathering her basket of elderberries, and looking to the sky for signs of a storm. But there were none. It was as beautiful a day as you could dream.
Morrígan woke from her slumber, sitting up quickly, her ears perked and listening. Then she took off into the forest.
Niamh’s skin tingled, as though her body sensed something her mind had yet to grasp. It wasn’t unusual for Morrígan to spend days at a time exploring and hunting in the forest near Thurles, and her sudden disappearance wouldn’t normally have given Niamh pause.
This time, however, Morrígan hadn’t gone in search of something. She had fled. And when her warrior kitten went running, Niamh knew trouble wasn’t far behind.
She hadn’t gone ten paces when the bells in the church started ringing. Looking up at the guard tower nearest her along the keep’s palisade, Niamh watched as the men rushed toward the front gate, shouting frantically.
Then the first screams rose up the hillside from the village below. Followed by smoke.
Niamh’s heart pounded. They were under attack. Dropping her basket of elderberries, she ran down the hill, making for her cottage.
And her family.
Chapter Five
Caiseal, Kingdom of Mumhain, Éire
Dallan knew themeeting would be called long before he stood in the corner of the king’s solar. As he sparred with Finn, the only man he trusted with both his life and his sister, some of the other men spotted smoke on the horizon.
The eight men who had only just sworn their oaths as Fianna, an elite group of warriors in the service of King Brian Boru, turned aside from their training to investigate the smoke. In the field just outside the fortress at Caiseal, they stood in a line on the grassy hilltop.
