Chapter Thirty-Two
Emer rushed to her sister. Conan already tended the wound to her side, putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding. Taking Alannah’s hand, Emer turned to Conan. “How bad is it?”
“She’ll be fine.” He sounded awfully sure considering how pale his face was, but Emer believed him.
“I’m alright,” Alannah assured her. The grimace that accompanied her words undermined them.
Ossian wandered over to join them, holding what looked like someone’s shirt to his shoulder. Osgar appeared uninjured.
Emer hugged them both, her heart swelling. They’d done it. They’d found her brothers. She didn’t have the words to express the depth of her joy at having them back after all these years.
When she finally loosened her grip on them, Ossian looked at Emer and Alannah. “How did you know where to find us? How did you even know we were captured?”
“The rest of the men came home,” Alannah explained. “You weren’t with them.”
“They’re the ones who figured out everything else,” Emer added, gesturing toward the line of giant warriors that stood around them.
“And who, exactly, are ‘they?’” Ossian demanded, eyeing Broccan warily and glancing at Conan where he tenderly worked on Alannah’s wound.
“Conan and I are to wed,” Alannah told him. “Broccan is Emer’s man.”
Warmth filled Emer’s chest at those words. She very much liked the way that sounded.
“Well he did a pretty poor job of keeping you both safe,” Ossian grumbled in a very Broccan-like manner.
Emer smacked his good arm. “He just saved your life!”
“And almost let both my sisters get killed,” Ossian shot back.
Broccan appeared to take her brother’s outburst remarkably well. “Your sisters are more than capable of handling themselves, as you just saw.”
Emer stared at Broccan in shock.
“Damn right we are,” Alannah added through gritted teeth.
After a round of introductions, her brother’s temper toward the men improved measurably when he realized that nearly everyone who’d rescued him was a prince or related to one.
As they made their way back to Cluain Lis Becc, Emer and Alannah told their brothers about all they’d done in the years since they left, about the Hart’s Rest and their recent adventures with the Fianna.
They learned that Ossian and Osgar had strayed from the battle in search of a friend who ran off wounded. They ended up near the forest and were captured while searching for him.
It was fully dark by the time they returned the king to his rath. Illadan unbound him, and the Fianna stood outside in the dark debating what to do next. The king lost no time retreating to his roundhouse and barring the door. Emer couldn’t really blame him.
“Someone needs to tell Malachy what’s happened,” Cormac began. “Preferably someone he would see as neutral.”
“He wouldn’t believe any of you?” Ossian asked. “He wouldn’t take the word of fellow royals?”
“He might,” Illadan allowed, “but he and Brian are at odds again. He might think we’re trying to trick him.”
“We could send one of the soldiers who carried out his orders,” Broccan suggested. “More than one, even.”
Conan stepped forward, his voice full of possibility as he spoke. “Or we could tell father and Teague instead.”
Silence descended. Emer didn’t know enough of politics to understand why everyone was now quietly contemplating Conan’s suggestion with varying degrees of shock and amusement.
“Are you suggesting using Tethba to start a war?” Broccan asked at last.
“It’s the opportunity Brian’s been waiting for,” Conan told him. “It might finally end the alliance between Connachta and Midhe.”
“It’s brilliant,” Diarmid agreed.
“It also has a high chance of success,” Cormac admitted quietly.
“Can you imagine how father would react to learning that Malachy’s own men have been abducting his warriors and selling them to the Ostmen?
And without Malachy knowing a thing about it?
” Cormac shook his head. “He’d lose all respect for him. ”
“Broccan?” Illadan looked to the man who currently held onto her hand as though she might disappear again.
“If that alliance crumbles, Brian might be able to take the high kingship at last.” Broccan’s observation held a note of awe, of the same potential that Emer had sensed in Conan’s. She didn’t know much about politics, but even Emer knew what it would mean if Brian became the High King of all éire.
It would mean they’d finally have peace.
Shouts sounded from inside the king’s roundhouse. Emer jumped when a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. Broccan pushed her behind him, drawing his sword.
The other Fianna and her siblings drew theirs as well, turning toward the rath.
She’d been so wrapped up in their debate that she hadn’t noticed all the folk who’d gathered around the building.
The door was missing. Men and women alike rushed inside, carrying torches and all manner of makeshift weapons.
“We need to go,” Broccan growled. “The town’s revolting.”
“Against the king?” Emer asked, peeking around Broccan.
“Aye. He’s dishonored them with his betrayal. If they don’t kill him, Malachy will.”
Emer suddenly felt a lot less guilty about holding a blade to the man’s throat. They wasted no time, hastening toward Ath Luain.
The following day, Emer began preparations to hire someone to manage the Hart’s Rest. She couldn’t quite stomach the idea of selling it just yet, but she happily began looking for buyers of Oran’s hostelry.
While she set to getting her things in order to leave with Broccan, he and the other Fianna made their report to Brian and Cahill in Cruachan Aí.
Osgar had gone with Alannah to visit Glasny, but Ossian sat in the common room near the hearth, staring into the flames.
Emer couldn’t imagine all that he’d been through since he left them six years ago.
His captivity in Tethba was only the very end of his military service, and after witnessing that battle, Emer knew he likely carried many scars that weren’t visible.
Setting down the bag she’d been packing, Emer moved to sit beside him. “Is your shoulder feeling better today?”
“Aye.”
“Will you come with us?” she asked, unable to stop herself. “I don’t want to lose you again so soon.”
Ossian turned his dark eyes toward her, mirrors of her own. “There’s nothing left for me in Ath Luain.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Aye,” Ossian tossed her a small smile. “I’ll come with you to Cenn Cora.”
She stood to get back to packing, but Ossian grabbed her hand.
“Are you happy?” he asked. His words, though simple, echoed with great meaning.
Emer squeezed his hand. “I am now.”
And the way things were headed, she would be for many years to come.