He couldn’t decide if she was about to run him through with her sword or burst into tears. What was worse, he couldn’t decide which would upset him more.
“Then you can keep your word under someone else’s roof. You’re no longer welcome here.” She spun on her heels, reaching for the door.
“Alannah.” Illadan moved quickly, pressing the door closed. “I realize that we have hurt you, and I’m sorry for it. But I must request that no one else learn our true identities. Do I have your word?”
She glared past Illadan and straight into Conan’s soul. “Aye. I’ll never speak a word about you.”
Every muscle in Conan’s body screamed to follow her, to tell her everything, to make her understand that he’d never wanted any of this. Instead his feet rooted into the hard-packed earth and he watched her disappear into the hall.
“I know you’re plotting my demise,” Teague began, his hand still resting on Conan’s tense shoulder, “but it was an accident. Perhaps when I discover what happened to her brothers, you can use that bit of news to get her speaking with you again.”
As much as he wanted to blame it all on Teague, Conan knew it wasn’t entirely his brother’s fault. “She’s been questioning our story from the moment we arrived,” Conan growled, shrugging out from Teague’s hand. “I’ve lied to her every day we’ve been here. I don’t think even that will be enough to fix it.”
And it shouldn’t be. He deserved every ounce of her disdain, her disappointment. He betrayed her.
And he deserved every single consequence of that.
“Let’s get our things and go pay our old friend Oran a visit,” Illadan ordered, his voice tight as he strode around the hostelry toward their cottage.
Teague followed them. “I will cover all your expenses. Lodging, food, ale. Buy yourselves new swords for all I care.”
Conan didn’t have the energy to even argue with Teague. He packed his few belongings, lifting his bag and strapping on his sword. A clattering drew his attention to the floor at his feet.
The dagger he’d commissioned for Alannah. The one he’d planned to give her as a parting gift, to remember him and to help her defend herself once he was gone. He picked it up, running his fingers along the gilded hilt and finely honed blade. He’d always known that eventually they would leave. He would return to Mumhain and Alannah would stay here with her sister.He hadn’t dared to imagine she might come with him if he asked. And yet, somehow, he never felt that they would part.
He laid the dagger on his bedroll, knowing one of them would find it when they came to sweep the cottage out. Then he followed the men out of The Hart’s Rest.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Conan didn’t remembermuch of the walk through Ath Luain, but he couldn’t help but pay attention once they arrived at Oran’s guesting house. When he broke free from his haze, he found himself standing inside a hostelry that couldn’t be more different from The Hart’s Rest.
Built in the newer fashion, the rectangular common area was filled to bursting with trestle tables, benches, and chairs, all positioned around a central hearth. A pair of doors flanked the entrance, no doubt leading to the rooms for rent. In spite of the heat from the blazing fire, Conan felt the need to shiver as he took in the room. It should’ve been cozy—small and well-lit and warm—yet something about it unsettled him. Perhaps it was the yelling.
“You must be joking,” Oran spat. “Why would I give you rooms when you’ve taken that whore’s side every time?”
Conan sprang to life. He lunged for Oran, but Dallan and Finn caught each of his arms before he could knock the bastard out.
Oran laughed, a sound that made the bile rise from Conan’s gut. “And why would I let someone stay here who wishes me harm? I don’t think so.”
“You can let them stay here, or you can lose your hostelry,” Teague threatened, taking charge of the conversation. “Those are your only options.”
Oran’s face reddened. “Who do you think you are, threatening my business? I’ll report you for—”
“I am Teague O’Conor, son of Cahill and Prince of Connachta, and you will do as I command. These men are staying here, and they won’t be any trouble.”
The bastard’s mouth fell open, though his eyes still held onto his fury. He floundered momentarily. “This way,” he muttered.
Oran led them through the door to the right, which connected to a hallway with five more doors, two on each side of the hall and one on the end. He opened the door on the end and stepped inside so they could follow.
“You’ll all have to share this one. I don’t have any more.”
“I highly doubt that,” Conan snapped, “but we’ll share it all the same.”
“Excellent!” Teague pulled a handful of coins from a pouch at his waist. “I’m certain this will cover it.”
Oran’s mood changed instantly. His face lit, a greasy smile spreading across his lips. “Aye, that it will.”
“That will be all.” Teague dismissed him, hurrying him out the door and closing it. “I apologize again for the inconvenience I’ve caused. Does this in any way change your plans?”
