Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (16 page)

“Why not break the pattern by having you go to the crannog once for every two of
my
trips?” he countered.

“
I’m
not the one who has to memorize so much,” I said primly. “
I’m
not smart enough. I’m not going to become a great and mighty druid who can hurl down curses and read the future and sit in judgment. I’m merely a princess. All I have to do is look pretty and be charming and very,
very
sweeeeeeet.” I fluttered my eyelashes and blew kisses at him.

“You have all the charm of Guennola and sharper teeth,” Odran said. I punched him in the arm. “
That
wasn’t sweet at all,” he complained. But he gave in.

O
DRAN SOON LEARNED
the wisdom of doing what I told him. One pebble rolling down a hill can nudge along larger and larger stones until it all becomes a roaring rockslide. Just so, my insistence that he go back to his studies soon brought us a host of benefits.

Master Íobar was pleased, of course. He saw Odran’s compliance as an overdue win for his authority as father, teacher, and druid. Generous in victory, he didn’t seem to mind it when Odran evaded him every few days, as long as he had his full attention and effort on the days they spent together.

Master Íobar’s rage cooled even faster when Odran stopped bringing Muirín and Guennola to his lessons. The druid became positively jovial, no longer berating Odran or banishing him to their chamber every night. If he asked, “Where were you today? I missed you,” and his son’s only answer was a shrug and a smile, Master Íobar returned the smile and let the matter drop.

With peace between our guests, my parents were able to
enjoy food, drink, and companionship at dinner, free from the tension of wondering when the nightly storm would break. Our hall was loud with Devnet’s songs instead of Master Íobar’s ranting. I never saw Mother look more content.

As for me, I was as happy as the lucky mortals who found their way to Tír na nÓg, the isle of eternal youth and beauty in the western sea. Every day that was my turn to visit the crannog was another chance to be with Ea. When I was there, I became like a child who’s been given a piece of honeycomb and deliberately holds off taking the first bite to prolong the treat. I saw to the needs of all the other creatures first, never rushing through my duties to them, until they were all fed, clean, and comfortable. Once that was done, I could give myself completely to Ea.

What went on behind those shining eyes of flame? How did she see me when I fed her, kept her perch clean, talked to her, even sang every one of Devnet’s songs that spoke of birds, flight, freedom? Every time I tended her, I yearned to stroke those glossy feathers but reined myself in. I sensed she wouldn’t like to be touched, though there were times I felt her refusal wasn’t “No” but “Not yet.” I respected her wishes. I loved her; I could wait.

Perhaps someday an enchantment would let us master the many languages of animals. Until we should have that gift, we could only hope for some sign that the creatures we loved understood just how much. I’d seen the spiderweb strands of devotion between Father’s chariot horses and Fechin. Men called them the High King’s steeds, but anyone with eyes knew how things really stood: they were Fechin’s just as surely as he belonged to them. That was how it was between Ea and me.
Odran named her, but only I knew her. I couldn’t hold her in my hands, but I didn’t care as long as I held her to my heart.

On the day Father and Master Íobar went off to attend the Lughnasadh gathering, I reaped the final reward for herding Odran back to his studies. I wasn’t expecting it and it came from an unforeseen source: the featherbrained babble of one of our fosterlings.

The arrangement Odran and I had made for us going to the crannog was disrupted by the royal departure. It would have looked much too suspicious if either of us failed to bid our fathers farewell.

My friend fidgeted dreadfully throughout the whole leave-taking. It was his turn to look after the little ones; he should have set out before dawn. I could almost read his thoughts:
I should be where I’m needed. Why don’t these men go?

I sidled up next to him and pressed my right foot down firmly on his left. I feared that if I didn’t hold him in place somehow, he’d bolt before Father’s party was out of sight. My ploy delayed him long enough to thwart any suspicion when he did vanish, and I was feeling rather proud of how discreetly I’d done it, until later that day.

I was at needlework with Mother and our fosterlings when a shrill, skin-scraping giggle tweaked my attention away from the garment I was sewing. It came from Sabha, a girl who never seemed able to speak without simpering.

“Lady Maeve, I hope
you
won’t try to claim the queen’s bracelet for finding out where Odran goes,” she said. “You’ve got an unfair advantage over the rest of us—you could do it as quick as a kiss.”

Before I could respond to the coy insinuation behind those
words, Mother spoke. “What are you talking about, Sabha?” she asked wearily. The baby was growing at an uncommonly fast rate, wearing out her patience as much as her body.

“Yes, Sabha,
what
?” I gave the too-chatty fosterling a hard stare.

Sabha made a
Who, me?
face and appealed to her companions for support. “Was I the only one who saw how things stand between Lady Maeve and Master Íobar’s son? Because if you ask me, they stand very
close
.” She arched one brow.

Why was there never a rotten apple around when I wanted one? I would have settled for a clod of mud, but the weather had been dry. I had to make do with words: “Who’d ask
you
anything? You blabber just to hear your teeth knock together.”

“Maeve—” Mother cautioned me.

Sabha was not discouraged. “There they were, side by side, so
adorable
! They couldn’t hold hands, of course, but if you’d seen the way Lady Maeve was leaning against her sweetheart, you’d
know
.”

I leaped to my feet. “I
know
you’re a troublemaker, Sabha. You stir things up because you’re as bored with your own dull life as we are.”

“I saw you and the druid’s son too,” Guennola barged in. “You were standing on his foot. You know, it’s a mistake to
force
your sweetheart to stay close to you, Lady Maeve. It makes him want to escape.”

“You know a lot about keeping sweethearts. Too bad you never had one,” I sniped.

“That will be enough.” Mother raised her hand. “Sabha, I’d know if my daughter had a sweetheart.” One of Mother’s ladies snickered, but a glare of queenly anger silenced her. “However,
since you think Maeve’s guaranteed to win the prize …” She took the gold bracelet from her wrist and tossed it on top of the sewing in my lap. “And there’s an end to it.” A chorus of protests rose up around her, but Mother had spoken.

That evening, I waited for Odran just inside the ringfort gateway. I was so eager to give him the good news that I didn’t care if I was acting exactly like a lovesick girl. When I saw him coming, it was all I could do to keep from running down the path to meet him.

“Odran, look!” I showed him the bracelet. “See what Mother gave me!”

“It’s lovely, Maeve,” he said, regarding my prize doubtfully. Guennola gave me the same inquisitive, uncertain look from her perch on his shoulder. “Is this some special day for you?”

“It’s special for us both.” I linked my arm through his, being careful to do it in a way that wouldn’t alarm or irk the stoat. Guennola and I weren’t friends, but my relationship with her precious Odran had forced her into a guarded truce with me. “This bracelet is your freedom.” I told him how Mother had called off her she-hounds, though when it came to explaining why …

“Since you and your father stopped fighting every night, there’s no more need to hunt you down, but someone had to get the prize she offered. If she’d given it to one of the other girls, the rest of them would have argued about it.” And that was mostly true.

“Is it so?” Odran was visibly relieved. “I don’t have to be wary of pursuers anymore?”

“Well, you might not want to relax your alertness
too
much, but the chief danger is past,” I said jauntily.

“Maeve, do you know the best part?” His blue eyes shone with joy. “Your mother’s put an end to the hunt and my father’s away. We can stop playing hide-and-seek. We can go to the crannog together until he returns!”

Why couldn’t I be as happy as Odran with our shared days in that half-ruined house over the lake? Something prevented me—the poignant knowledge that it couldn’t last. Lughnasadh would end, our fathers would come back, and we’d have to renew our old ruse to deceive Master Íobar. That was bad, but it was nothing next to what else we’d have to face.

Too soon the light would fade, the days would shorten, the crops would be harvested, the cattle herds thinned, and Samhain would come. Odran would depart for Tara, and from there travel on to Avallach. He would take his healing lore with him. I’d picked up some of it from watching him and from the instructions he gave me for tending our creatures, but it wasn’t enough. If I were left on my own, any small wild beasts who fell victim to injury or illness would have a sorry fate. I feared that I didn’t have the knowledge necessary to help them.

That was what I told myself whenever the thought of his leave-taking stole my joy. I wasn’t ready yet to admit why else I felt so miserable at the thought of a future without him. And how did he feel, knowing that in a brief time we would be parted? I yearned to know, but I didn’t dare to ask.

My haunted thoughts distracted me. Not even Ea’s bold, beautiful presence could lift my spirits. Once I became so caught up in them that I began stroking her feathers, until she clashed her beak at me.
Treat me like a puppy, will you? Pay me the attention I deserve or pay the price!
she told me with her fiery
eyes.
And count yourself lucky that I chose to give you a warning, not a bite
.

I heeded Ea, but absentmindedness trickled into the way I cared for the other animals. I scrubbed the same spot on the floor until all the stoat’s smell and half the wood were gone. I fed one squirrel her breakfast and promptly fed her the other squirrel’s breakfast too, while he chattered angrily at me from his nest. I went down to the lake to fetch water and came back with a bucket full of minnows and weeds.

Odran noticed. A blind man would have noticed. The two of us were looking after the hedgehog—he examining its lame paw, I setting a fresh ring of brambles around its clay house—when he spoke up. “Maeve, that’s the tenth time you’ve pricked your fingers and the third time you’ve knocked over that pot. If you break it, the little creature won’t have any place to shelter tonight. I know you’re not clumsy, so where’s your mind wandering? This isn’t how you took care of our animals when you were alone with them.”

“What’s wrong with the way I take care of—” I bit back my objection in mid-breath. I knew I’d fallen short. “I’m not happy, Odran.”

“Yes, I can tell.” He wasn’t mocking me for saying something so obvious. “What’s wrong? What have I done to make you feel that way?”

“Being you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to be a druid. You’re going to Avallach. You’re going to leave me, and I can’t—” I was on the point of saying too much when a twinge of pain made me gasp and wince. I
turned over my palms and saw that they were bleeding from my mishandling of the brambles. Before I could cast my eyes around for water and a cloth, Odran was cleaning my hurts.

“I don’t want to go, Maeve,” he said softly as he smeared a beeswax salve over the scratches. His hands were warm and strong, but he had a tender touch. “I wish your father hadn’t been joking when he suggested I stay here to study with Master Niall and Master Owain. I’d say yes to that in a heartbeat.”

“And if you stayed, I … I could study too,” I said. “You’d learn the druid’s way from them, and I’d learn the healer’s way from you. Then, if I found a wounded creature, I’d know what to do without needing you to tell me.”

“I’d like it better if you always needed me, Maeve.” His pale face turned bright red and he quickly bent his head over my injured hands. I was glad; it meant he couldn’t see how those simple words had flustered me as well.

When he looked up again, he tried pretending he’d said nothing. “If you want to become a healer, I’ll teach you what I can, but the best way to learn is by working on your own with the animals. If I’m here with you, you become my shadow. There’s only one way to get around that.”

He was going to say,
“Let’s come here separately again.”
I knew it. I feared it.

No!
I cried out inside.
I don’t want to give up these precious days of being with you
. Before he could suggest that, I exclaimed, “I have it! Instead of us sharing the care of all the animals, let’s each be sole caregivers for individual ones.”

Odran considered this. “That’s a good idea, better than mine. I’ll take the ones that frighten you, and you—”