“As his surviving sisters’ brother.”
“Aye. But these are no’ ordinary times, and I need ye at my side. Soon—very soon—I will have to go and deal wi’ Brihan. Charge him for turning against me.”
“A dangerous mission.”
“Aye, so. And I will need ye with me, Ardahl.”
Ah, by all the gods!What would Liadan say if he went from her for such a perilous course, perchance not to return?
“My chief, my fealty is yours, as is my sword.” Conall’s sword. Liadan still had his.
“Good man. Ordinarily I would take Dornach. He does no’ want to admit it, but he is no’ fit. I will tell him he is needed here to keep a strong defense. ’Tis all too true, given what happened last time.”
Ardahl said nothing. He wondered what Fearghal could possibly say to Brihan, who had already turned his cloak and sided with Dacha. Whether Fearghal could trust the man if he got the assurances he wanted. If Brihan would speak only lies.
And what he could say to Liadan, when the time came.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Though Liadan didher best to keep busy all that day, it did not help her state of mind. Her longing for Ardahl and her tendency to relive all they’d shared remained alive within her. She swept the hut out again, shook out the blankets from her parents’ bed—not before inhaling from them the last of Ardahl’s scent—and fought the desire to walk past the training field, where he worked.
Like some green girl.
She was no longer a girl but a woman. He had made her so.
Maeve came home around noon, mentioned the hard fight she and others of the women had staged to save Seona’s babe, and went off at once to sleep. Left alone, Liadan fell prey to her thoughts once again.
Relentless thoughts and desires.
She had supposed—hoped—that having Ardahl once would be the cure. Would render her satisfied. But she would need to have him again. Once touched, constantly desired.
Whether that would happen—whether she would ever again lie in his arms—she could not say. It did not seem likely. They had so few opportunities to be alone. And the future—
Well, try as she might, she could not quite see a future for them.
At last, unable to bear the hut any longer, she went out. The sun had emerged, and a stiff wind chased the lingering clouds eastward.
Welcome as the sunlight was, it exposed the widespread ruination of the settlement. The great hall, no more than a pile of charred timbers. The dwellings that had once clustered around it, likewise. The armory, the pony sheds—thanks be to Brigid that whatever ponies not away with the chariots had been in the field that night, and so saved.
Other structures half ruined in the second attack, roofs collapsed, belongings strewn far and wide.
Some women worked at sorting through those belongings while children wailed and pulled at their skirts. Anger reigned here, and despair.
Across the way, near the spring, Liadan spied Flanna in company with Lasair. When Flanna saw Liadan approaching, she turned her face away.
“Sister?” Liadan beseeched her.
“I do no’ wish to speak wi’ ye.” Ready tears began to flow from Flanna’s eyes.
“We need to speak, do ye no’ think? To heal this misunderstanding that lies between us.”
“’Tis no misunderstanding. Ye left Mam alone. To die.”
“I did not know—”
“Abandoned her, a woman who was ill, on her own. Wi’ no protection.”
“’Tis because she was ill that I went. ’Twas but a few steps.”
