Chapter Nineteen
Two days later, Conan and Alannah walked up the worn path to The Hart’s Rest. Alannah couldn’t decide if she were grateful or disappointed that Conan hadn’t tried any sort of intimacy after that kiss.
On the one hand, she felt as though a current pushed her ever towards him, demanding that she give into her growing feelings for him.
On the other, however, Alannah knew full well that there could be nothing between them except however many nights they shared together before he left.
And, more and more, it was the leaving that was the problem.
For the longer he stayed and the more moments they passed together, the more Alannah realized that this man could break her heart if she let him.
They arrived during the evening meal. Alannah threw open the doors, which felt smaller after having visited the splendid Rath Cruachan, to find all the comforts of home.
Emer ferried platters laden with food among the six tables, stuffed to bursting with diners.
Finn and Ardál played a soft tune. Illadan and Dallan stood by either door, keeping watch as Alannah had requested.
Illadan was the closest and Alannah walked straight to him, determined to defend Conan.
When they approached, Illadan glared at Conan, his dark countenance promising a serious discussion. “You have some explaining to do.”
“He does not,” Alannah positioned herself between the two giants. “I would have been killed had he not disobeyed you, so I will thank you for use of your man and ask that he not be punished for saving my life.”
“I caught up to her when she’d just left Cruachan Aí,” Conan explained. “I found her just in time to accompany her on the journey back.”
Illadan’s features relaxed. “I see,” he drawled, still glaring at Conan. “Perhaps your punishment can be mitigated, then.”
“What will you have him do?” Alannah had hoped to erase any censure entirely, but lessening it would have to suffice.
“He’ll be saving you the trouble of minding the horse stalls until we leave,” Illadan declared. “But should he choose to continue disobeying direct orders, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to punish him accordingly.”
“He won’t,” Alannah hurried, answering on Conan’s behalf. It was her own fault he’d come so close to such a punishment, and she’d not be the reason he fell out of favor with Illadan.
She still found it odd how military they seemed to be for a group of bards, but she supposed if they’d all trained for years and served together, it was easier to maintain old habits than grow too lax.
Illadan nodded, still frowning. “How did your journey go? Did you speak with the king?”
“He wasn’t in Cruachan Aí, but I spoke with his son, Teague. He was very kind and understanding, and he promised to bring men here and investigate the fire.”
“He’s coming here himself?”
Alannah couldn’t suppress a smile. “Aye, he said he wanted to survey the damage and order repairs. He even let me stay in the rath overnight.”
Illadan didn’t look nearly as happy as she’d expected for such good news. “Excellent,” he muttered.
*
Conan watched Alannah hurry to Emer, embracing her sister in an enthusiastic hug. Once she was out of earshot, he turned to Illadan.
“I’m sorry I disobeyed orders.”
Illadan sighed, the typical, put-upon sound that accompanied most of his interactions with the Fianna.
“You’re a good man, a good warrior, a loyal friend.
” He pitched his voice low, ensuring they wouldn’t be overheard.
“I’m concerned that you’re becoming too involved personally with this mission to remain professional. ”
Conan swallowed hard. Had he not been thinking something similar over the past two days? The closer he grew to Alannah, the guiltier he felt over all the things he hid from her.
His identity.
His true reason for visiting Ath Luain.
That he’d been the one to attack the bridge, and that he intended to do so again.
That he was doing all of these things, knowing full well how important the bridge was to her.
“Your silence does naught to ease my concerns,” Illadan continued. “What else do you know of their plans?”
A pang of guilt struck Conan’s chest once more, but he answered as Illadan commanded. “She’s going to put together a watch for the causeway. Teague will contribute men, and will repair any damages. He intends to come to the hostelry in a day or two.”
Illadan’s brow furrowed deeper. “That’s going to be a problem. We’ll need to discuss that tonight.” He laid a heavy hand on Conan’s shoulder. “Get us on the watch. We’ll take as many nights as needed.”
Conan nodded, looking down at his feet. His loyalty was to Brian and the Fianna, yet he couldn’t help but feel that he betrayed Alannah—which was ridiculous, because they weren’t even lovers. And for good reason, clearly.
“Are you ready?” Alannah asked, joining him and Illadan by the front doors of the hostelry. “I want to get to Glasny’s before it gets too wild.”
“What’s at Glasny’s?” Illadan asked.
“We’re recruiting men to watch the bridge until Teague’s reinforcements arrive,” Conan explained.
Illadan turned to Alannah. “We will take as many nights on the watch as you need.”
“Thank you.” She beamed at them both.
Glasny’s alehouse was on the far side of the causeway, along the eastern bank of the Sionnain.
A large rectangular stone building with a thatched roof, Conan wouldn’t have known it was anything other than a house if Alannah hadn’t led them there.
Slats of wood covered with thatch pitched toward the road from the roof, creating a sheltered outdoor space with tables and extra seating.
Conan wondered how often it saw use in a town as small as Ath Luain.
Would the entire town need to turn out to fill the tables?
Inside, warm light from a central hearth illuminated an open room with tables in every shape and size, chairs and benches as mismatched as the rest of it.
About a dozen men and women milled about, carrying drinks, playing at knucklebones, or sitting at tables laughing.
Behind a counter to the right of the door, a middle-aged man with a burly build and peppered beard filled empty cups.
When the man caught sight of Alannah, his face came to life.
“Finally taking me up on that drink?” he shouted, waving them over and filling two cups with ale. He passed one to each of them as they took up positions by the counter.
“Still here on business, Glasny,” Alannah laughed, sliding her cup back across the smooth wooden surface. “We’re setting a watch at the causeway until the prince can get here.”
Conan took a long drink of the ale, mild and sweet with less warmth than he expected. It wasn’t bad, though he wondered if it were cut with water to inhibit patrons from getting too deep into their cups.
“Who’s he?” Glasny glowered at Conan, ignoring Alannah’s request for watchmen. “I’ve not seen you before.”
“He’s alright,” she assured him. “He’s one of the bards staying with us. They’ve been playing every few nights.”
Glasny perked up at that, arms crossing across his barrel of a chest. “You’ve been hiding away bards? How is it they’ve not yet played at my alehouse?”
“Help us man the causeway, and we’ll play any night you’d like,” Conan offered, taking another drink of ale.
Glasny’s beard lifted into a hairy smile. “Aye. You’ve got yourself a bargain.” He took a step away from them, facing the room at large and shouting. “The next four men to volunteer as guards at the bridge get free drinks tonight!”
The room behind them sprang to life as men hustled to claim their spots.
Alannah beamed. “Thank you, Glasny.”
“Happy to help.” He turned to Conan. “I believe you owe me a performance.”
“That I do,” Conan agreed. “That I do.”