“Of course,” said Hirí. “You have my word.”
If only he could believe her.
The druid nodded the chambermaid off and she scurried back towards the castle. The acid guilt he had felt before now seeped into his heart. It was a fleeting hope and a foolish plan. He should have known both would end in fire.
Blood smeared his palms.
“Promise me,” he said. “Swear on your god.”
“Does she matter so much to you?” asked the priestess. His look left her sighing. “Yes, alright. I swear on our Mistress Moon.”
The promise made him more incensed as the plan’s futility came crashing down. “If you knew what would happen tonight, why let us pretend? You could have saved us all the trouble.”
“I simply wished to know what your hearttrulywanted, and I must say, my darling, I find you conflicted.”
He would not dignify her taunts with response. Instead, he turned sharply and started back across the yard.
“Now, now, don’t be angry,” Hirí called, following. “You should be grateful, instead. After all, Icouldturn you in.”
He scoffed. “And tell the Vaich you nearly lost your pawn? I doubt that very much.”
“How spirited. To think, I had heard you’d taken terribly ill! But here I see such color in your cheeks. And what luck! You simplycannotmiss the feast.”
The druid stopped, facing the priestess in the dark. “Then, you intend to be my gaoler all the same. And your dreams shall be my bars.”
The priestess smiled. “I wish to be your ally.”
He did not want allies. He did not want to have a side in a war that was not his. What he wanted was to return to a world where no one knew his name.
“Let us discuss further upstairs, shall we? You mustn’t attend the party looking so drab.”
Anger bubbled up like bile, and desperately he swallowed it down. “I will be attending no parties.”
“Now, druid. That wasn’t our agreement. Think of the poor old hen…”
He glared.
“You may wish to fight fate, but the fact is you are foretold. Even if I had let you go, do you think you would be free?”
“There are places even arrogant men dare not go.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding. “So you thought the Fáoth would save you? You underestimate their fear. The An’Atherin will burn a path across this world if it means putting down a challenger. The Vaich sees you as a rival, and thus you will be treated so, whether you embody it or not.” Her grin stretched wide. “I prefer the former.”
Chapter fourteen
The Pawn
Ache crept back into the druid’s bones at the sight of the chamber exactly as he had left it not one hour before. The bed was unmade. His draught of meadowsweet sat cold aside it, and the roaring hearth laughed at his torment. His escape had been a failure, and thus he was squeezed back into his jar.
He pulled off his cloak and hung it beside the mantle. He wondered if Halla would be safe; if he could trust the priestess to keep her word. The old woman had more courage than him. That was the worst of his miserable mistake.
He never should have put her in danger.
“At least you have been doted upon,” the priestess said, rifling through his garments. In the short time he had been at Rhyd-hal, the druid had collected an impressive wardrobe—an achievement he rued endlessly.
“I hardly think it intentional,” he said, ignoring the jeering room. “The Vaich seems careless, if not altogether lacking in wit or work.”
“Bold words.” Hirí hummed as she pressed a blue gown against her sylphic form. “One should be cautious to disparage the king. Of course, you can trust me. Though, should the Thrys hear you… it would bechaos.”
