Chapter Twenty-Four
The eight Fianna warriors and their horses filled the entirety of the courtyard inside the rath’s palisade. Broccan’s right hand slid reassuringly over the destrier’s muzzle. His left hand held Emer’s in a vise.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” Emer told Broccan for the hundredth time since she woke in his arms. “No heroics.”
He frowned at her, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a warm kiss against it. “I was about to tell you the same.”
Emer snorted at his ridiculous statement. “Yes, because you know me and my dangerous life. I’m not the one charging into battle.”
“If all goes well, there shouldn’t be a battle. If Aodh has your brothers, we should be able to negotiate. Is that not the point of hostages?”
“I suppose,” Emer allowed. But it felt too risky to let herself believe there wouldn’t be any danger. If she expected him to return and he didn’t, it would only hurt all the more. “Still,” she pressed. “Be careful.”
“I expect the same of you,” he said again, his brows creasing.
Emer ran gentle fingers over them, smoothing his worries. “I’ll be just fine. Really. You’ve no need to worry. Alannah and I have been on our own for years and years without trouble.”
Broccan’s throat worked. He leaned closer, his head lowering. “So had Teamair and Mella.”
Emer’s fingers cupped his face. It all made sense now. “I’ll be here when you get back,” she promised. “And I’ll be careful while you’re gone.”
“Binn Ghulbain is two days’ ride northwest,” he told her. “You can’t miss it when you’re close. It rises like a fortress from the plains.” Broccan let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to come back and learn you were in trouble and didn’t ask for help. Send someone, and I will come.”
Emer shook her head. “There won’t be a need.
” The poor warrior was so scarred by that loss that he saw it everywhere.
“It was horrible, and I’m sorry that you endured such a thing.
But we’re not at war here. It’s a celebration, bringing folk together.
We’re deep in the heart of Cahill’s territory.
The kings all have a truce for the moment.
The Finn Gall are content with their plunder. I’m safe here.”
His gray eyes studied her face, as though he memorized every feature. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered.
“You won’t.”
“Don’t worry, Broccan. I’ll take good care of her.” Alannah and Conan joined them, grinning like a pair of fools.
Broccan’s frown remained unwavering. “And you know where we’ll be?”
Alannah nodded. “Conan gave me directions.”
A deep ache bloomed in Emer’s chest. There it was again—everyone speaking of her like a child, like she couldn’t possibly get by without a keeper.
More and more of late, she noticed it in the way everyone spoke of her.
And more and more, it dug into her skin like a thorn.
Was she really that great of a burden to them?
For years, she’d thought it was simply that they loved her, that showing concern for her welfare was an extension of deep caring.
But no one was saying these things to Alannah, who was in the exact same situation as Emer.
It seemed that even though Conan loved her sister, he didn’t think she needed minding.
Emer swallowed the mess of feelings clogging her throat.
This was no time to fall apart. Broccan was leaving, he was going into danger, and he was doing it for her.
She needed to farewell him properly—with a smile that he could carry with him until he returned.
Filling her heart with all the love she felt for him, Emer’s lips stretched wide.
Broccan pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair and squeezing the air out of her lungs. The familiar scent of him sent a mixture of longing and fear crashing through her. As the rest of the Fianna mounted up, Broccan found her lips, taking his sweet time kissing her.
It ended far too soon, leaving Emer standing beside Alannah, watching them ride into the distance.
Even when Alannah had left with the men over a fortnight ago, Emer hadn’t felt such worry.
Perhaps it was because this time, she knew they traveled deep into the heart of enemy territory—a far more dangerous mission.
Or perhaps, it was because half of her heart would be missing if he didn’t come back.
“I really wish I could go with them,” Alannah sighed. “It’s not fair that they get to have all the fun.”
Emer knew that wasn’t a jab at her. She knew Alannah would never purposefully insult her or insinuate that Emer was the reason she was missing out or that being at the fair with Emer wasn’t enjoyable.
She knew that Conan wouldn’t bring Alannah anyway simply because of the danger.
But none of that stopped the comment from cutting deeper than it should have.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard being left behind. ”
Alannah turned, her face falling. “I know you do. At least we’re in this together. Let’s go distract ourselves with shopping.”
That was the best idea Emer had heard. “I believe you mentioned something about a dagger.”
They shopped most of the morning for Alannah’s dagger.
She insisted on finding every blacksmith and weapons merchant at the fair before making her choice.
Emer knew nothing about swords or daggers or fighting, but she liked the look of the one Alannah eventually purchased.
The hilt was bronze and shaped like a deer, the blade was sharp, and that was about all she made of it.
By some miracle—or perhaps her sister’s kindness and planning—Emer had enough coin left to purchase wheat flour, an entire bowl of cinnamon, and small jars to restock her cloves, pepper, and mastic.
She even managed to haggle down the price of saffron threads so that she had enough to make a fine midwinter feast when the time came.
She loved using the sunset orange coloring when winter was at its darkest, and the delicate flavor always lifted her dishes.
Arms loaded with treasures and their coin purses emptied with efficiency, they crossed the central field in the sea of tents, headed for the rath. A squeal of pure delight sounded from a red-and-white tent to their right, bringing both women to a sudden stop.
The source of the sound was a young girl with pale-brown hair, standing beside a couple inside the small tent.
Like the girl, they both had long brown hair, woven into tidy braids, their skin tanned in a manner that told Emer they worked out in the fields or in a fishing boat.
The man looked older than the woman, but both were at least ten years older than Alannah.
The girl couldn’t have been much more than ten.
Clutched in her skinny arms was a large doll made of cloth.
Emer knew it couldn’t be a coincidence. It had to be one of those signs that she and Broccan had discussed. She couldn’t wait to tell him about it when he finally returned.
“Hello, there,” she greeted the girl. “I’m Emer. I couldn’t help but notice you’re quite happy with that doll. Did you get her here?”
The girl, who would be of an age with Broccan’s late daughter, nodded enthusiastically, unable to hold still. “I love her. My parents just bought her for me for my birthday.”
“That’s a wonderful gift,” Emer told her. Broccan worried that Mella would have been too old for dolls. He’d be glad to hear otherwise, and she’d found the place to buy them, too. “I have a friend who’d like one as well. Could you help me choose a good one?”
“Of course!” Her brown eyes took in Emer’s full arms. “Could you even carry one?”
“Gráinne!” the dark-haired woman behind her scolded. “Manners.”
Gráinne’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“It’s quite alright,” Emer assured them. “I didn’t plan to purchase it today, just to have it picked out.”
“Well, then you’d better pick more than one,” Gráinne replied. “In case someone else buys her first.”
“Wise advice,” Alannah jumped in.
By the time the bell rang for dinner, Gráinne and her parents had helped Emer find three dolls that she felt any girl her age would adore.
“I don’t know how I can thank you for your assistance,” she told them when they had to part ways and return to the rath.
“Come with us to the horse race tomorrow!” Gráinne replied without a moment’s hesitation. “My uncle is racing and he’s going to win.”
“You should come,” her father insisted.
Emer turned to Alannah, who nodded.
“We’d love to,” Emer answered. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”