One of the greatest certainties, aye—that life was uncertain.
Late in the afternoon, Maeve arrived. Ardahl’s mother wore a look on her face that all too closely matched what lay in Liadan’s heart.
She scratched humbly at the doorframe and stood.
“Mistress MacCormac, come in.”
“I do no’ wish to intrude.” Only Maeve’s gaze moved past Liadan into the hut. “Is Ardahl no’ here?”
“Still at the training. He should be home soon, though I do no’ doubt—I do no’ doubt they train extra hard and long this day.”
“It is true, then—they go to fight?”
“Aye. Were ye no’ at the spring for Chief Fearghal’s meeting?”
The woman shook her head. “I merely heard after. They leave in the morn?”
“Before first light.”
“I hoped to see him.”
She surely must. “Come, wait within.”
“I dare no’. Your mother—she has lost her son.”
“Both o’ ye have.” Pray to all the gods this woman would not, in truth. Liadan would make an offering to Brigid at nightfall. To Lugh with the sunrise.
Before Maeve could make up her mind to stay or go, a soft step sounded behind her. Liadan whirled to see Ardahl, his weapons on his shoulder.
“Mam?”
He quickly laid his weapons aside, handing the shield to Liadan, and his mother fell into his arms.
Liadan ducked back inside, taking the shield with her, affording them what privacy she could. Tears filled her eyes.
When Ardahl came in moments later, looking weary and grim, Liadan performed a swift inspection. No new injuries shecould see, other than grazed knuckles. His hair had worked its way out of its plait and his skin shone from his exertions.
“Ye’ve worked hard,” she observed, saying nothing of the agonized scene with his mother. She handed him a pot of soap and a cloth, at the same time taking the rest of his weapons. He liked to go and wash as soon as he reached home.
With a nod, he went back out. He took a goodly while, likely struggling to get hold of his emotions as much as wash. Striving to seem as strong as he thought he should.
She told him as soon as he came in, “Sit and eat.”
Only one night—one very short night—lay between them and parting. All day long, her need for him had been an open wound.
Let me have this. Only this.
With Flanna gone off and Mam lying as she tended to do on Conall’s bed, they were as good as alone.
“What is the word?” she asked as he sat down.
“Naught of change. We muster at the training field before dawn.”
She took it like a blow. All day long, she’d hoped the plan might alter. That one of the druids would cast his stones, declare the signs said they should not make the venture.
“I see.” Her hands shook when she gave him his bread.
“If we can put an end to the fighting, set Dacha in his place, ’twill be all to the good.”
