“What are you talking about?”
“You’re in love.” He sat down in his velvet chair. Steepled his fingers. “I thought it must be Bridei’s princeling. But now I wonder whether it isn’t someone else. Somethingelse. I don’t know whether to congratulate you. Or pity you.”
My lip curled, renewed loathing creeping through my veins. “I don’t want your congratulations. And I don’t need your pity.”
Cathair shrugged. “Just be careful. A heart is powerful magic.”
My pulse dropped out. I turned. “What did you say?”
“In the old stories, a willing heart can do almost anything. Steal magic. Create new worlds. Save doomed men.”
I stared at him and wondered how much he knew. Had his witch-birds been spying? Had his fell book been whispering to him as he slept?
“But you only have one heart.” His eyes on mine were sharp. “So you’ll have to decide which of them you want to save. Choose wisely, lest there be no one left to saveyou.”
For that, I had no ready response. Eventually, Cathair picked up his glass of wine to toast me across the dim throne room.
“Goodbye, Fia. I’d say,May the gods go with you. But I think we both know you must walk alone.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Icouldn’t get back to Dún Darragh fast enough. But I’d ridden Finan hard—he needed rest. And so did I. I’d barely slept the night before, nor much the last month. So I choked down my half ration of stringy beef and barley gruel, then lay down on the narrow bed in my old dusty chambers.
But sleep proved elusive. At first, I told myself it was the noises of the castle keeping me awake—the banging of shutters and the clank of armored horses and the shouting of guards. But as night wore on and the noises diminished, it proved to be my own noisy head keeping me awake.
I tangled in the rough sheets, voices drifting through my mind like ghosts.
Only I know how to love someone like you. And no one will ever love you more than I do.
You will always have a piece of my heart.
Even loving parents make tools of their children.
I didn’t think I had anywhere left to fall. And yet—I’ve already fallen.
You will never hate me more than I hate myself.
I was glad for dawn. I jogged out into the courtyard, calling for Finan as blue touched the horizon. I mounted. Seagulls and ravens circled high above, shards of black and white against a brightening sky. Their jagged cries echoed in my ears as the huge gates groaned in the palisade.
But the guards weren’t opening the gates for me. They were opening them for their high queen.
Eithne Uí Mainnín rode at the head of her fianna, which trailed, battle worn, behind her. Although her figure was hidden beneath chain mail, and a helm in need of polishing concealed her shining hair, she still managed to look both elegant and powerful upon her warhorse. Within moments, the bailey echoed with the ringing of shod hooves. Fénnidi dismounted, Mother in their midst, shouting orders to the guards and grooms and courtiers pouring out of the fort.
No one so much as glanced in my direction. A cowardly instinct needled me, and I almost reined Finan past the milling fianna. Toward the gate. Toward Dún Darragh. Toward Roslea. Toward Tír na nÓg.
But then I hardened my spine with knotty wood and swung out of my saddle, looping Finan’s reins around my hand.
I was made of pitted stone and twisted vines and wasted time. I was not made to fear queens. Or mothers.
Divested of horse and shield and helm, Eithne passed a few paces in front of me, already deep in conversation with one of her advisors. The fort and her duties would soon swallow her up. Convention dictated I wait to speak to her until tonight’s feast, like the rest of her fawning supplicants. But I was running out of time. I had to speak to her now. Or never.
I pitched my voice to be heard above the hubbub. “Mother.”
For a moment, I didn’t think she had heard me. But she paused, frowned. Her eyes slid over Finan’s imposing bulk, registering familiarity. Then she saw me.
“Fia.” Surprise swept across her features, followed by an unreadable expression. Was it…disappointment? She closed the distancebetween us. She wasn’t as imposing as I remembered. I’d never realized before—she was barely taller than I. “This is unexpected.”
“Cathair said he sent one of his birds.”
