Impossible to bear.
What were life lessons in the face of this?
Da and his advisors stood by to bid farewell to honored guests. Deathan could see the relief in his father’s eyes.
No one questioned Deathan’s presence, since Rohr had failed to turn up, and it might be argued he represented the house.
In truth, he merely wanted to drink in the sight of Darlei while he could. Brown hair all braided for travel, her grand cloak upon her shoulders. He had run his fingers through that hair. He still carried its fragrance on his skin.
Her pony stood ready, and she had not looked at him even once.
Ah, but he could still feel the softness of her cheek beneath his lips. Wet with her tears.
“Go safely,” Da told King Caerdoc. “And I wish ye all prosperity ahead.”
The king nodded. Urfet stepped forward to help Darlei mount. Deathan reached her first.
“Princess, allow me.”
His hands closed on her waist, beneath the cloak. The last time he would touch her?
She did look at him then, a searing look as bright as the glint of a war shield. A warning.Do not follow me.
She feared for him. Had she so little faith in his abilities? Did she not know that Ardahl MacCormac—the man of whom Coll had sung last night and one of the greatest warriors ever in Ireland—was his ancestor? That he carried the man’s blood?
If ever he would fight for anything, it would be for her.
Yet she rode away from him, already she did, her borrowed pony falling into place behind Urfet and her father, her woman in the wagon behind. She did not look at him again.
Did she weep? He could not tell. But the pain inside him was beyond bearing, and if she felt anything akin to that…
At the last, when the jingling of bridles had near died away, she did look back, one telling glance, swift as pain.
My love.
My love.
Da gave a gusty sigh. “Good riddance to all that. What a trial! I suppose now I shall ha’ to set a swift marriage for yer brother, if only to see things right.”
So Rohr was to get everything he wanted, was he? The blessed firstborn. While Deathan watched his life disappear into the distance.
Hard not to grow bitter. But was that what he was meant to learn through this ordeal?
Nay. He believed he was meant to follow his heart, no matter the cost.
He watched the train out of sight, some part of him hoping for a miracle, that they might turn back at the last moment, that Darlei might persuade her father to let her stay. A mere child’s hope. The air grew bright, folk bustled around pursuing their business, and he could stand there no longer.
He did not truly have to think about what to do. He’d done so for long enough. The heart did not care for objections, nor what the head might argue.
He had only to figure out the way of it. He could not just disappear. People would worry. His ma would.
By all that was holy, it would be hard to leave her. Not as hard as watching Darlei ride away mayhap, but still difficult.
She had forbidden him, had Darlei, from following after her. But he had promised always to find her. No matter where.
Perhaps that was the lesson in all this. That naught, however terrible, could keep them apart. And perhaps it was her lesson, not his, to learn.
His headstrong lass, his wild woman who sought to protect him. Was he not a man? Was he not her man?
