"I was lookin' for ye," Eoin said, but Maeve could hear from his voice that this wasn't the entire truth. From the sympathetic look he gave her over his father's shoulder, she realized that Eoin had come here for her sake. "Come, Father. The petitioners are waitin' for ye."
Kyle nodded. He turned to Maeve and leaned over to whisper in her ear once more. "Dinnae get comfortable," he told her. "Eoin willnae always be here tae save ye."
When both men left and the doors were closed behind her, all of Maeve's fear and panic spilled out into tears and panicked, quickened breathing. The world seemed to blur around her, and her lungs refused to hold air. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out when she tried. Feeling dizzy, she stumbled toward her dresser and looked in the mirror, desperate to see something that showed her she was still herself.
To her horror, it was not her own face but Breana's that stared back at her, wide-eyed and pale, fear and pain shining through.
"Maeve," Breana's voice echoed from the mirror. "How could ye leave me here, Maeve? How could ye let them have me?"
Now Maeve truly began to scream.
* * *
Bolting awake, it took a few moments for Maeve to remember where she was. Sweat soaked her pillow and her face was wet with tears from the horrible memory that had turned into a deep nightmare. She'd been hiding out in her room for two days now, talking to nobody but Ferda and Patty, avoiding the rest of the camp, but in her dreams there had been no solace from her anxiety — only horror and fear.
How long would she allow herself to stay here, trapped in the stress of her own mind? She needed to push herself. She needed to go back to training and face Cailean, or go to the council and try to convince them to act and save her sister, even if Cailean would not agree. She needed to go out and tell the truth to everyone in the camp about her history, and make sure the whole world knew who she was and what she had to offer. She couldn't hide anymore.
What was Cailean doing now? Did he hate her for the words she'd thrown in his face? Did he think she had crossed a line by trying to force him to live up to his past? Had she really had any right to do such a thing? Anxiety swirled in her stomach at the thought.
Maeve looked to the side of her bed and saw a little tray of food there. Patty had brought her breakfast, it seemed, and she felt a rush of gratitude toward her friend at that. She lifted the tray and ate her food, though the dryness of her mouth made it taste like ash. She had no appetite, no hope, and she wondered if everything would ever be all right again.
But she couldn't stay here forever. Breana needed her. Also, she'd begged to stay in this camp and promised that she'd fight as powerfully as any other warrior. She couldn't simply allow herself to hide away. Not when she'd been so harsh to Cailean about doing the same thing.
Cautiously, she got out of bed, washed and dressed, and slowly exited the hut. She intended to head right to the war room and find the councilmen, but to her surprise, someone was waiting right outside the door.
"Cailean," she said, making the word half a question in itself. He was in his full warrior's clothing, holding something in his hands wrapped tightly in a thick blanket. "I…"
"What do ye think ye're doin' here?" Cailean demanded. "Ye've missed two practice days now. Ye said ye wanted tae stay because ye wanted tae fight, how are ye gonnae do that while ye're hidin' out in yer room?"
"I… I…" Maeve had never stammered this way when talking to someone before, but her last memory of spending time with Cailean was making her feel tongue-tied. The anger and frustration he'd clearly felt had stuck with her this whole time. "I didnae think that ye'd want tae see me, nae after…"
Cailean shook his head and held out the bundle in his hands. Maeve took it from him, uncertain, and slowly unwrapped the covering. As the blanket material fell away, she saw the glint of stunningly crafted metal in the sunlight and her breath caught in her throat. She finished unwrapping the sword after a moment and simply stared at it.
"Well?" Cailean prompted.
Placing the covering on the ground, Maeve held the sword,hersword, in her right hand. It felt perfectly well-balanced as she swished it through the air, more like an extension of her arm than a tool separate from her. It was a long, thin blade, similar to a needle, and the pommel was carefully crafted from twisted metal and a shining blue gem in the middle. It was an extra unnecessary touch, but it added an individual kind of beauty to it that went straight to Maeve's heart. She'd never owned anything so stunning.
"I love it," she said. "It's the most beautiful weapon I've ever seen."
"I didnae get it tae be pretty," Cailean told her. "I got it tae be effective. Come with me."
Maeve didn't question him, following where he led without a word, though she was surprised when he walked in the opposite direction from the training field and back toward the river spot where they'd argued two days before. It was his secret place, she knew that, and the idea that he would be taking her there now threw her off. Did he have more to say to her? Was he going to scold her further for not attending training? But if that was the case, why had he given her the sword first? It didn't make sense no matter how she looked at it.
When they were back at the spot, hidden amongst the trees, Cailean turned to face her again. He reached for his belt, and a second later he'd drawn his own sword. "Now," he said. "Show me what ye've learned."
"What? Here?" Maeve started to protest, but before she could continue her objection, Cailean was rushing toward her, his sword raised for battle. Instinctively, she dodged out of his way, weaving beneath the blow, and raised her own sword to parry his. "What are ye doin'?"
"I told ye," Cailean grunted, swinging around to attack again. "I didnae get ye that sword tae be pretty."
Maeve threw herself into the fight, at first reacting only defensively, dodging and weaving and parrying, but soon her temper began to rise, and she pushed forward with attacks of her own. "What is this?" she demanded, her breath coming hard and heavy as they spun amongst the branches of the nearby trees, the sound of the river music to their deadly dance. "Are ye angry? Is that it?"
Cailean let out a snort. "Angry?" he repeated, but instead of answering, he redoubled his attack. Maeve narrowed her eyes and met him with equal ferocity, and the fight grew more and more intense, the clashing of their swords echoing around them. "I'm nae angry, Maeve," he said eventually, though their spar did not stop.
Tension sizzled in the air, and Maeve found herself drawn to him even as she spun away from him. His gray eyes focused on her with a burning heat she didn't understand, and she was reminded of the sun itself, too intense to look at directly and yet life-giving in its very essence. She moved forward, pushing an attack, but cried out as he tripped her and she sprawled to the ground. She was on her feet again in an instant, her sword pointed out.
"How does it feel tae lose tae a coward?" Cailean taunted, a sparkle in his eyes now.
"I never said ye were a coward," Maeve protested. She swung her sword high, feinting to the left, then ducked and weaved until the point was at his chest. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized she had scored a hit. "And I'm nae losin'."
