Conor awoke with a start in the dimly lit room, disoriented. After several moments, he recognized the cottage in which he had left Aine, but the events afterward remained fuzzy. How had he gotten here?
He quickly realized he was not alone on the mattress. Aine slept beside him, her body pressed alongside his, her head resting on his bare chest. He caught his breath, allowing himself a moment of pure pleasure at the feel of her beside him and the peaceful expression on her lovely face as she slept.
Where was the pain? By all rights, he should be in agony from the injuries to his arm and head and the overexertion of the last few weeks. The newly stitched wounds itched and stung, but he recognized those sensations as signs of healing. The rest of his body felt as if he had just completed a day’s labor at Ard Dhaimhin, a bearable feeling, pleasant even. How was that possible?
Carefully, he eased himself from beneath Aine’s head. Her eyes fluttered open, and she jerked upright, her face flaming. “Oh! I didn’t realize—”
Conor silenced her apology with his mouth. Her hand slid behind his neck and twined through his tangled hair, and he shivered with an entirely different sort of pleasure.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
Conor jerked away from Aine, and his hand closed on the sword beside him before he recognized the man standing in the doorway. “Eoghan?”
Eoghan shut the door behind himself, doing a poor job of hiding his smile. “It didn’t take you long to recover.”
“Can you blame me?” Conor retorted. Aine blushed an even deeper shade of pink. “What are you doing here?”
Eoghan folded himself into a chair as Conor untangled himself from the blankets. “The trackers passed word back to me. I thought you might need help. Looks like I was too late, though. It took me some time to procure the horses. In a few hours, there won’t be any safe place for you in Seare.”
Conor nodded. “We have to go to Aron. Lisdara was our last option, and it’s under siege.”
“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid.” Eoghan’s expression sobered. “Lisdara has already fallen.”
Aine let out a strangled cry, and Conor put his arm around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “I’d hoped with Diarmuid dead . . .”
“The druid’s dead?” Eoghan asked. “When?”
“Mac Eirhinin killed him last night. Or at least, I assume he killed him. No one could survive a wound like that. But the wards are already broken, and Meallachán’s harp is probably gone.” He stroked Aine’s hair as she pressed her face to his shoulder, gripped by the sorrow of another loss. Eoghan watched them with a wistful look on his face.
“I’m surprised Master Liam let you leave,” Conor said.
“Master Liam doesn’t know.”
Aine lifted her head. “Will you be punished? Surely when he learns you were helping us . . .”
“Perhaps,” Eoghan said, but his expression left no doubt as to what he thought awaited him in Ard Dhaimhin. “It’s three days to Port an Tuaisceart. If you’ve any chance of beating the blockade, we must leave now.”
Conor brushed tears from Aine’s cheek, silently questioning. She nodded. “Give me a few minutes to gather our things.” She pushed herself to her feet and began to fold supplies into the blanket.
Eoghan drew Conor off a few paces and pitched his voice low. “They sent trackers after you. I took care of them, but they’ll send more. We’ll have to make haste.”
“Aine’s a good rider. She can handle the pace.”
“I understand why you moved heaven and earth to come back to her,” Eoghan said, his eyes returning to Aine. “She’s quite a woman.”
“That she is.” Conor clasped Eoghan’s arm firmly. “Thank you. I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
“You have a second chance. Don’t waste it.”
They traveled briskly north, Aine riding behind Conor on a large gelding, Eoghan on a chestnut mare. Aine said little, but from time to time, her arms tightened around his waist, and her body shook with silent sobs. He simply held her hand and locked away his own disturbing memories. He would have time to deal with those later. Right now, she needed his strength.
Eoghan and Conor remained alert for pursuing riders, but none appeared. They could only conclude Glenmallaig’s new commander had decided to cut his losses in the druid’s absence.
That evening, they talked quietly by the fire about the dire situation in which Seare now found itself.
“I wouldn’t yet consider Ard Dhaimhin to be safe,” Conor said. “We presume Diarmuid is gone, but with the wards broken, there would be nothing stopping Fergus from attempting to take the city. He’d have ten thousand men at his disposal. From his perspective, those are good odds.”
“We’ll be ready if he does. The Conclave has been considering the possibility they will have to defend the city. Nothing I said would sway them to send men to Faolán, though it probably wouldn’t have helped. Fergus struck Lisdara more quickly than anyone expected.”
Conor glanced at Aine, who studied her ragged nails with more interest than they warranted. He took her hand, and she squeezed it tightly. “There’s only one thing that might have made a difference, but there’s no telling where the harp is now.”
“I could try—” Aine began.
“No. If I hadn’t left you to pursue the harp, you would have never been in danger. I won’t repeat that mistake.”
Aine didn’t respond. Instead, she excused herself, claiming the need for privacy. When she was out of earshot, Eoghan said, “I know you. You’re not going to give up that easily.”
“How can I? The harp is the key to retaking Seare, and I may be the only person left alive who can use it. I just won’t sacrifice Aine again in the process.” Conor’s voice caught. “I came too close to losing her.”
Eoghan poked at the fire, then fixed him with a solemn look. “What happened at Glenmallaig?”
Conor studied his hands. They were clean now, but he couldn’t forget the sight of them covered in other men’s blood. Nothing could have prepared him for the horror that pressed at the back of his mind like water behind a dam. Every time he opened his mouth, it threatened to rush out of him in a terrifying howl. He steadied his voice and said, “Treasach warned me there was a cost. I just didn’t know how high it would be.”
“It will take time.”
“And what happens when Aine realizes what I’m capable of? Right now, she’s just relieved to be alive, but in time . . . she’ll never look at me the same again.”
“You do her a disservice,” Eoghan said. “She loves you, Conor, truly. I think she’s far wiser than you give her credit for. Would you do it any differently, knowing the cost?”
Foliage crunched underfoot as Aine returned, looking small and vulnerable in her borrowed clothing. His love for her struck him like a blow to the chest, painful in its intensity.
“No. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Their third day on the road stretched into night, and they entered Port an Tuaisceart as the sky lightened to gray. The sleepy village on the Faolanaigh border was little more than an inlet for the fishing boats and coastal skiffs that brought supplies to Faolán’s northern coast, but Eoghan seemed remarkably assured they would find what they were seeking.
They left the horses and followed Eoghan down to the harbor. Seabirds called overhead as they circled in search of food, and a few fishermen stood on the docks, loading their nets onto the boats for the day’s work. A single-masted cog, out of place in the tiny port, floated at anchor a few hundred yards offshore, its draft too deep for the shallow harbor. When they neared the dock, Conor could just make out the name Resolute and a pair of familiar shield knots emblazoned on the side.
A rowboat separated from the ship and glided toward the docks, carrying two men. Eoghan caught the rope they tossed up to him and fastened it securely before offering a hand to the older of the two. Despite his graying hair, the man still possessed a strong body and a particular quality of movement that bespoke Fíréin training. Conor then understood Eoghan had done far more than arrange a few horses to bring them from the forest.
“Brother Eoghan, I presume?” the man said.
“Captain Ui Brollacháin. I wasn’t sure you had gotten my message.”
“Barely,” he replied. “But one doesn’t refuse a favor of the Ceannaire himself.”
Conor’s heart beat faster as he comprehended the significance. Eoghan shot him a bleak smile before he turned back to the captain. “This is Brother Conor and Lady Aine. They’ll be your passengers.”
Ui Brollacháin bowed to Aine and offered his hand to Conor. “Welcome. We’d best be getting to the ship. We’ll be chancing the blockades as it is.” He bowed to Eoghan. “Give my regards to Master Liam.”
Eoghan nodded. Conor waited until the captain climbed back into the boat before he spoke. “You shouldn’t have risked so much. You know the penalty for such a thing. You could come with us.”
“No. If I leave, all those who helped me will pay because I engaged them under false pretenses. I knew the price when I started out.”
Conor blinked back tears. He’d thought after all that had happened, he’d be immune to the effect of yet another sacrifice. He gripped Eoghan’s arm and then clapped him into an embrace. “Thank you, my friend. I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m fully expecting your firstborn son to be named after me,” Eoghan said with a grin.
Conor laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “You can count on it.”
Eoghan turned to Aine and bowed. “My lady. Conor is truly a fortunate man.”
“Thank you, Eoghan.” Aine put her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “You are a true friend. We won’t forget this.”
Eoghan disentangled himself, looking moved by her spontaneous thanks. “Go now, you two. Your ship awaits.”
Conor took Aine’s pack and helped her into the rowboat. Eoghan loosened the tether and tossed the rope back down. As they rowed away from the dock, Conor lifted a hand in farewell and saw his friend’s answering wave.
Once aboard the Resolute, they found an out-of-the-way spot at the rail, and Conor held Aine protectively in front of him while the crewmen drew the sail up the mast and hauled in the anchor. As the ship sailed from port under its billowing canvas, he strained for one last glimpse of Eoghan, standing with the two horses near the dock.
“What will happen to him when he returns to Ard Dhaimhin?” Aine asked.
“Fíréin discipline is harsh. If he’s lucky, flogging.”
“If not?”
Conor hesitated. “Execution.”
Aine stifled a cry. Tears slid down her face, and Conor could not keep his own from welling in his eyes again.
“So many sacrifices,” she whispered. “How many people died so we could live?”
They stood at the rail until the ship picked up speed and began to track northeast toward Aron, the shoreline fading into an expanse of green-blue.
“What will Lady Macha say when I show up with you in Forrais unannounced?” Conor asked.
“She won’t be able to say anything when I introduce you as my husband.” Aine turned toward him expectantly.
“Aine . . .” Conor began, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips.
“Do you love me?”
“Of course I do. I’ve never loved anyone else. But—”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, Conor. I don’t know if we will have a tomorrow. But I don’t want to live in fear any longer.”
He looked into her eyes and saw the truth. She had known all along. Known he would have to leave again, known this time he might not return. Still, she wanted to be his wife. His heart swelled. He took her face in his hands and kissed her until she was breathless and laughing.
“I’ll find the captain,” he said with a smile.
They said their vows on deck at sunset before Comdiu and the sea, with a dozen amused crewmen as their witnesses. Conor barely heard the words through his surge of joy when the captain joined their hands and declared them husband and wife. He could not even find the words for prayer, but he knew Comdiu would understand his gratitude for bringing them together on this path, despite all the heartaches and sacrifices they had endured along the way.
Aine smiled as Conor bent to seal their union with a kiss. The crew whistled and stomped the deck in approval, and she laughed as he led her to the low-slung passenger cabin beneath the forecastle that would be their bridal chamber.
Still, Conor could not help looking back at the ominous storm clouds gathering on the horizon. He felt a brief pang of unease, a warning their troubles could not be escaped so easily. Then he put his worries aside. If he had learned a single lesson from all that had happened, it was that Comdiu was faithful. Whatever their future path held, they did not walk it alone.