Chapter 5 #3
"With Cathal's prophecy ringing in his ears, Conn told your father that he would send you away from Glenfluirse, someplace where you would be raised with love.
He vowed to Fintan and Grainne that when you were of an age for marriage, he would bring you back to his fortress, put you under his protection.
Make certain the prophecy could never be fulfilled.
You were a helpless babe. No matter how closely your parents watched over you, I am certain they understood what danger you were in, that someone might kill you out of fear of the prophecy.
Fintan trusted in the promise of his chieftain.
To save your life, your parents let you go.
I am certain the bracelet you wear was a gift of love from them both. "
Caitlin touched the circle of gold that was suddenly infinitely precious. "And when my father died and was no more use to your chieftain, Conn sent you to kill me."
Set forth in Caitlin's forthright voice, Conn's actions made Niall uncomfortable. As if he had peeked behind a mask and glimpsed some deformity he did not wish to see. Nay, Conn had no other choice, Niall told himself, but even that did not erase the ugliness of what Conn had done.
"Caitlin, I know it... must be difficult to hear. The reasons why—"
"I have been wondering why all my life. Now I know. Even before I was born, I was damned."
"Nay! It was a prophecy. Druids can be wrong."
"The sisters would say that. But what would you say, Niall? What do you believe?"
He could not meet her gaze.
"You were willing to kill me while I slept. I saw it in your face. You did not want to do it, Niall, but you would have."
He stared down at his hands—hands that would be stained with Caitlin's blood were it not for a snapped twig, such a fragile twist of fate.
It seemed she was quiet forever, no sound breaching the silence between them but the rain.
He saw her fingers tighten in the folds of her leine.
"Strange. Reverend Mother always said I had a destiny to fulfill.
I could tell she thought it was something wonderful, romantic.
Some great gift to the world. I am certain she never imagined I would bring death and destruction to innocent people. "
Awkward, rough-edged warrior that he was, Niall could not bear the desolation in those features he had seen flushed with joy. "Caitlin, life forces are like the ocean. They can change course in a heartbeat. Perhaps the doom Cathal foretold is gone."
"But what if it is not? If what the druid predicted is true..." She bit her lip, and Niall saw her eyes glisten. " Perhaps Conn was right. The only way to be certain to stop this curse is my death."
"Caitlin, you owe these people nothing. You do not even know them!"
"But someone does. Someone loves them. They are fathers and mothers, children, sisters, brothers. Families like I have never had. If I were to die, who would mourn me?"
"The abbess!" And I would. The realization struck him.
"Since I have left Saint Mary's, I can never enter the cloister again. The abbess will never know what happened to me, anyway." She turned great, tragic eyes to his, the blue depths holding both terror and a courage deeper than any he had ever seen. "If you... fulfilled your duty—"
His gut twisted. “Have you lost your wits?"
Tears streamed from her eyes. "How can I risk being the reason for the death of so many?"
The woman was all but giving him permission to kill her!
Was arguing for her own death! Yet in all his wretched, embattled years, Niall had never known anyone who loved life more.
He clenched his fists, knowing that if Caitlin died, it would be as if the light drained out of the sun.
The world would be a far darker place. More like the one Niall had known before he had taken her to look at the sea.
"You cannot ask this of me!" he snapped. "I will not do it."
She glared at him, full of hurt and fear, anger and resignation. "Then what are we going to do?"
"Find a way to stop this prediction—foil whatever doom the druid foretold."
She gave a broken laugh. "How, Niall? Have you your own kind of magic?"
Frustration burned through him. "I do not know how we will defeat it. I only know I have to find some way." He stopped, cursed low.
"And while you are attempting to work this miracle, where do we go?
What do we do? Your king wants me dead. Fears the disaster I might bring down upon his people.
He will not quietly sit by, waiting by his hearth-fire for your return.
As soon as he guesses something has gone awry, he will send others to hunt me. "
It was true. In his mind, Niall could see the hard faces of the warriors who would ride out for their chieftain. Yet it was such a delicate matter—one misstep could cost Conn his kingdom. Surely, he would not be hasty to act. That need for caution might buy them precious time.
"We will find a place to hide you until I can think," Niall began.
"And just where would this place be? I cannot go back to the abbey.
In his wrath, God alone knows what Conn might do to them.
This is Conn's kingdom. It would mean death to anyone who helped me.
Even if there were someone brave enough, generous enough, to hide me, how could I bring such trouble down upon their heads?
And you will be no better off once Conn learns the truth.
You will be hunted as fiercely as I am."
Every word she said was true. He had lived a lifetime in the shadow of the sword, but always knowing an army stood behind him. This would be far different. He would be one man, alone. Only his body and his sword arm between Caitlin and certain death.
Niall stiffened, hating the sense of futility that surged through him as he struggled to find some way to shield Caitlin.
He froze, the answer piercing him swift as a well-placed arrow and thrice as painful.
Nay, he thought, something shamefully like panic burning through him. I cannot go back there!
But if he did not, Caitlin would die. He would stay only long enough to gather provisions for their flight across Ireland. He would find safe haven for Fintan's daughter somewhere...
But even those thoughts could not keep his blood from running cold.
This was madness. He was a warrior, trained to laugh in the face of death, scorn the pain of the most lethal wounds.
His throat tightened. "There is one place in Ireland Conn would never think to search once he knows I have helped you escape. A place called Castle Daire."
"But it must belong to somebody. I cannot put them in danger."
He raised his gaze to hers. "The castle belonged to my father. It now belongs to me."
Blue eyes searched his, far too intuitive for comfort. He felt as if she were running fingers over his spirit.
"Niall," she said softly. "Surely Conn would search there. It stands to reason—"
"I swore a blood oath I would never return to it."
She touched his arm, almost timidly. "But in allowing me to live, you have already broken an oath. Your oath of loyalty to your chieftain, the most important one any warrior swears in all his life. Conn will know that."
"Aye, but Conn will also know what is waiting for me at Castle Daire."
"Memories?"
Images swirled inside his head. Gray stone rearing skyward, the courtyard churning with mounted warriors. His father bound, dragged astride a horse. Shame. Horrific, suffocating shame. And the screams—his mother's screams. His sister's.
Rage surged through him, the rage of the boy he had been, disillusioned, watching his world crumble about him.
Rage at the twisted cruelty of the fates that left him no choice but to return to the scene of his worst nightmares.
How could he explain to this woman, so shaken, so vulnerable?
How could he let anyone glimpse the dark corners of his soul?
Perhaps Christian angels did mete out judgment, Niall thought, staring out into the storm. They had condemned him to hide Caitlin in his very own hell.