Chapter Twenty-Six
If looks could kill, Conan would’ve been dead two minutes ago, though it was difficult to say whether it was Alannah’s glare or Illadan’s that would’ve done him in. That was how long had passed since he’d told Alannah the truth. It was also how long it had been since anyone spoke.
Across the table, Illadan sat so still that Conan wondered if he’d stopped breathing entirely. Alannah had gone the other direction, shaking like a cloud about to burst with rain.
Conan had considered filling the silence with an explanation, but at the end of the day, he’d lied to her. If she wanted to know why, he’d explain. If not, she deserved the honor of the full truth. To Conan’s surprise, Illadan cracked first.
“Outside.” Illadan ground out finally. “All of you. Now.”
The men stood, including Teague. Conan wanted nothing more than to give his older brother a good walloping, but he couldn’t risk anyone inside the hall seeing a commoner punch a prince in the face without punishment.
“You as well, I’m afraid,” Illadan said to Alannah, more gently but no less stern.
She looked ready to argue, but Conan knew that wouldn’t go over well with Illadan right now.
“Please,” Conan pleaded. “There is more you must know.”
As they trudged in silence out the back door of the hall, a leaden weight settled in Conan’s chest. He’d never wanted to lie to Alannah, but what choice had he had? It wasn’t as though he could betray his oath to Brian, betray his closest friends. Yet it tore at him all the same.
The moment Illadan shut the door, Conan jumped at Teague, shoving him hard. “I can’t believe you! We give you one job, one, simple way to prove yourself and you—”
“I know! I know,” Teague held his hands out. He didn’t even shove Conan back. “The fault lies entirely with me.”
“Speaking of lies.” Alannah stepped between them, finger pointed at his chest, eyes on fire. “I knew you weren’t bards!”
Finn stepped forward. “I am actually a bard by training, though I wasn’t accepted as an apprentice.”
“Who are you?” Alannah speared them as one, breathing hard. “I’m apparently too trusting, but I’m no fool. You’ve all been lying. Who are you?”
“I’m Teague’s younger brother,” Conan answered her honestly.
“Is Conan your true name?”
“Aye,” he assured her. More than anything he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew it would only make matters worse. “We gave your our true names, but not our titles.”
She took a wobbly step back. “Titles?”
“Illadan is the nephew of Brian Boru, son of his brother Mahon, and therefore a prince of Mumhain. Dallan used to be the heir apparent to the throne of Laigin. Ardál is the son of Brian’s huntsman.
And Finn is as he says, a highly accomplished bard who should’ve trained with the masters, though he is also one of the best swordsmen I’ve met. ”
Conan watched Alannah’s face change as she digested it all. He could hardly hear anyone breathe, let alone move. “Why are there two princes hiding in my inn?”
“We are oathsworn to Brian, King of Mumhain,” Conan began.
Illadan stepped forward, but Conan held a hand out to stop him.
“Brian came to visit Cahill in peace. He brought us in case things got out of hand, but we were to keep attention away from ourselves.”
“By performing in front of the entire town?”
Dallan took up in his defense. “The best place to hide is where folks least expect it. In this case, in plain sight.”
“How could you?” Her voice cracked, breaking like his resolve had only minutes earlier. “How could you lie to me? Why didn’t you trust me?” The words sounded so small that they hurt him all the more.
“I didn’t want my father to know I was here.
” It was the truth, but only just. Damn it all, why did he have to climb through this twisted web?
He was not the sort of man who answered lies with lies.
“Remember how I told you I didn’t speak with him?
” He swallowed hard, his throat tightening.
“That was the truth. I don’t want to see him. Ever.”
“I trusted you.” Her narrow nose flared, her lips rolling in on themselves. “I never should have trusted you.”
Conan’s heart sped as panic settled in his chest. “Alannah, please. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I swore an oath. I must keep my word.”
He couldn’t decide if she was about to run him through with her sword or burst into tears. What was worse, he couldn’t decide which would upset him more.
“Then you can keep your word under someone else’s roof. You’re no longer welcome here.” She spun on her heels, reaching for the door.
“Alannah.” Illadan moved quickly, pressing the door closed. “I realize that we have hurt you, and I’m sorry for it. But I must request that no one else learn our true identities. Do I have your word?”
She glared past Illadan and straight into Conan’s soul. “Aye. I’ll never speak a word about you.”
Every muscle in Conan’s body screamed to follow her, to tell her everything, to make her understand that he’d never wanted any of this. Instead his feet rooted into the hard-packed earth and he watched her disappear into the hall.
“I know you’re plotting my demise,” Teague began, his hand still resting on Conan’s tense shoulder, “but it was an accident. Perhaps when I discover what happened to her brothers, you can use that bit of news to get her speaking with you again.”
As much as he wanted to blame it all on Teague, Conan knew it wasn’t entirely his brother’s fault.
“She’s been questioning our story from the moment we arrived,” Conan growled, shrugging out from Teague’s hand.
“I’ve lied to her every day we’ve been here.
I don’t think even that will be enough to fix it. ”
And it shouldn’t be. He deserved every ounce of her disdain, her disappointment. He betrayed her.
And he deserved every single consequence of that.
“Let’s get our things and go pay our old friend Oran a visit,” Illadan ordered, his voice tight as he strode around the hostelry toward their cottage.
Teague followed them. “I will cover all your expenses. Lodging, food, ale. Buy yourselves new swords for all I care.”
Conan didn’t have the energy to even argue with Teague. He packed his few belongings, lifting his bag and strapping on his sword. A clattering drew his attention to the floor at his feet.
The dagger he’d commissioned for Alannah.
The one he’d planned to give her as a parting gift, to remember him and to help her defend herself once he was gone.
He picked it up, running his fingers along the gilded hilt and finely honed blade.
He’d always known that eventually they would leave.
He would return to Mumhain and Alannah would stay here with her sister.
He hadn’t dared to imagine she might come with him if he asked.
And yet, somehow, he never felt that they would part.
He laid the dagger on his bedroll, knowing one of them would find it when they came to sweep the cottage out. Then he followed the men out of The Hart’s Rest.