Chapter 11 #2
Niall knew it the instant he rode into the castle yard and saw Fiona's face.
Did another bucket full of mud await him upon some high beam?
Or had she concocted some other prank? At least he had returned early.
She had not had the whole day to plot against him.
And yet something in Fiona's eyes made him wish he were still somewhere far to the east of the castle with only a couple of rabbits trying to outwit him.
Nay, Niall reasoned as he stared down at his sister, no simple bucket of mud could have sparked such a brightness in her ever-present smirk. There was too much triumph in Fiona's dirt-smudged face for any trick so paltry.
"What devilment have you been about, girl?" he demanded, pretending not to notice her expression as he swung a brace of rabbits from his saddle.
"I have been in the garden," she informed him, regarding him with as much satisfaction as if she had managed to hurl a bolt of lightning at his head. "You would scarce believe what Caitlin found there!"
Unless it was a magic cloak that would whisk him leagues away from Castle Daire, Niall had little interest. "Mud?" he inquired with a grimace as he slung the rabbits over his shoulder, intent on readying them for the roasting fire. But Fiona sprang in front of him, blocking his path.
"Some of the plants lived! There will be more to eat!"
He stopped, the eagerness in the girl's face giving him a surprising twinge. "That is good, I suppose."
"Niall, do you not hear me? There will be food again at Daire, enough to keep Mother and me.”
So that was it. Caitlin had found a few stray vegetables, and Fiona had visions of a garden to rival those that fed Conn's whole fortress.
He ground his teeth, knowing he had no choice but to extinguish the girl's hopes as quickly as possible. It was kinder than letting her continue spinning out these impossible dreams. "I am certain the rabbits will enjoy eating the greens once you are gone."
Fiona looked as if he had slapped her, then that hard light sprang back into her eyes.
"I am not going anywhere. You said you cannot leave Mother and me here because we might starve.
Well, you will not have to concern yourself about us any longer!
The garden will be brimming by the time Caitlin is done. "
Niall swore under his breath. Caitlin. Had he not told the infernal woman to stop meddling about the castle?
Now she had filled Fiona's head with more nonsense, as if the girl was not enough trouble on her own!
Damnation, he would make the woman see reason this time or die in the attempt.
She might think she was doing Fiona a kindness, but in reality it was the subtlest form of cruelty imaginable.
It would only make things harder when he had to drag the girl away from Daire.
"Just where is Caitlin?" he growled.
Fiona gave an expansive shrug. "That I cannot tell you."
"Why the devil not?"
"She is gathering more plants for the garden. One of the nuns taught her how."
"Well, summon her immediately so I can put an end to this idiocy once and for all."
"I suppose I could try." Fiona smirked. "Of course, it will take a while longer than you wish. But a champion warrior is schooled in the virtue of patience, is he not?"
If Niall had known he would be returning to Daire to confront a foe as formidable as his little sister, he would have paid a lot more attention to the lessons. "How far could Caitlin be?" He scoffed. "The garden is just around the corner."
"She is not in the garden. I told you, she is gathering plants for it."
Hell with patience, Niall thought. It was only prolonging this torture. "So you said!" He glared into his sister's face. "Now, where is she?"
"Wherever the plants are," Fiona insisted, looking at him as if he had lost his wits. "Somewhere out there." Fiona waved toward the distant hills.
Niall felt as if she had kicked him. "You lie!" He grabbed her by the arm, furious. "This is no game, Fiona, no accursed prank! I ordered her to stay here!"
"You must practice giving commands if you ever hope to lead another army, brother. It seems neither I nor Caitlin care a whit what you say."
Fury welled up in Niall, disbelief mingling with sick dread. "You put her up to this, Fiona! Did you not?"
"You need not get in a rage. I dressed her as a boy and tucked her hair down inside her shirt. Her flock of nuns would scarce recognize her."
"That may not matter a damn, you little fool! Even if, by some miracle, no one sees her, Caitlin knows nothing about Daire land! She could get lost— anything could happen to her!"
Fiona's bravado faded just a little. "She will mark her path."
"Will she? She has lived her whole life in an abbey, scarce left the grounds. Just how will she know what to do?"
Fiona swallowed hard. "She is not a fool, no matter what you might think!"
"Nay. But she is far away from everything she has ever known. And you sent her out into the wilds without a moment's pause just to defy me. If anything happens to her, it will be on your head!" Niall swung up on his horse. "Which way did she go?"
"That way." Fiona pointed west. She caught the horse's rein. "I will go, too. I did not—not think—"
"Go in the direction of Killian's old holdings. I will search along the stream." Niall urged his horse west, praying to a God he only half believed was real. How the devil was he going to find her?
He could not guess how long he rode, knew only that the thread of panic raveling in his gut unnerved him.
He felt so helpless as his narrowed eyes searched the horizon.
At first, all he could do was try to guess what path she might take— one the most lush with growing things, the plants she was seeking.
Aye, and the path most pleasing to the eye.
She had been drawn to the beauty of the sea as if led by a silver ribbon.
Niall still felt a pang at the image that sprang to his mind, a raven-tressed water sprite racing toward the waves, her joy in the moment so complete that she had not realized the danger that lurked there until it was too late.
This land had once been so rich and verdant it seemed to cradle one in the palm of its hand. But Niall's travels across Daire had shown the countryside now wore a far different face. Destruction. A land grown so wild it could be unforgiving.
Worse still, he did not even dare to call her name.
It was far too dangerous. And the farther he rode, the more clearly he remembered that this land was full of dips and hollows, copses of trees and tiny hidden glens, a wealth of places he had hidden in as a boy.
A situation made all the more difficult because Caitlin would be trying to keep out of sight.
If not for tracking skills learned in years of raiding, he would have had no hope of finding her at all. It seemed she moved like a fairy, leaving little sign she had passed. Even broken twigs and crushed bits of grass might have been left by some wild creature passing by.
But the footprint in the mud at the stream bank—that he was almost certain was hers. And the trail that began nearby of cloth sacks, carefully dampened and tucked in the shade, their burden of green things that had not wilted, gave Niall the first hope that he might actually find her.
He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of one hand as his gaze swept another green hillock.
Strange. In the days he had roamed the countryside of his childhood he had not once ridden these western lands.
He had stayed away on purpose, this part of the estate the most beautiful of all, his father's favorite.
This was the place where memories clung, thick as the spiderwebs that had spanned the Sea Chamber where Caitlin had slept. And all Niall wanted was to forget.
Yet the farther he rode, the more it seemed the land itself was playing a cruel jest more disturbing than any Fiona could have concocted. Caitlin was traveling the path he had taken so many times before as a child balanced astride his father's mighty ghost-gray stallion.
Nay, part of him pleaded, do not go on. But painful as it was, his memory plunged forward, memories dangling ripe as fruits over his head.
Laughter, sunshine, the clean sweep of wind in his face.
A glade so enchanted it seemed to hold magic of its own.
A magic his family had reveled in. He could see it all, feel it all, taste it all, as if it had been yesterday.
Fiona, toddling about the berry bushes, insisting on picking the fruit herself. Grabbing the bright, juicy berries and crushing them tight in her little fists so they could not escape. Pleasure changing to puzzlement as she stared into her palm, trying to figure out where her treasure had gone.
Her little pink tongue licking off the streams of juice and pulp that remained. Then her fierce determination as she charged after another berry.
His mother, her eyes shining with pleasure and love, a flower crown upon her hair.
The fairy queen, she was, destined to preside over the mock battle to come.
But most painful and precious of all the memories was the gift his father had given him.
Niall could remember how tight he had clutched it in his small, grubby hands.
The memories clutched at his chest until he wanted to shove them away, wanted to hold them forever. But he would never know which he would have chosen.
At that instant, Niall heard a rustle among the trees, glimpsed the slightest flash of movement. Caitlin. Relief surged through him, banishing all but the hollow ache of loss from moments before as he peered down at her.