Chapter Four #2
“Your Highness, I don’t think—”
“Don’t try to convince me otherwise. You’ll learn rather quickly how useless that is.
” She turned to walk down the hall, her golden hair cascading down her back, Murphy trotting behind her.
When Ronan didn’t follow, she called back to him.
“Come now, we must make haste. After all, there’s a difference between fashionably late and just plain rude. ”
***
RONAN WALKED INTO THE ROOM TO SEE THE MEETING HAD already begun. His arrival was greeted with a surprised look from the prince, most likely because the princess followed on his heels.
Princess Clíodhna, to her credit, acted as if it had always been the plan for her to attend this meeting.
While Ronan paused after entering, she kept walking and quickly approached the table in the center of the room.
A man was already sitting at the head, but he stood aside to allow the princess to sit.
Murphy was quick to follow, curling at her feet with his tail tucked under his chin.
If anyone was surprised to see the two additional guests, they didn’t mention it.
The room itself appeared rarely used. There was no dust to be found—that wasn’t a surprise; this was álainndore after all—but the books on the shelves were in pristine condition, the spines showing no signs of having been opened.
The table was newly polished, with no signs of wear, and Ronan could see no scratch marks on the wooden floor beneath them.
The two oversize chairs tucked into the corner looked as though they’d never been sat in and had cushions that were precisely fluffed.
It was exactly as everything else in the álainndoran palace: perfect.
Princess Clíodhna nodded at the older man who had given his seat to her.
His face was stern, but there were soft crinkles around his eyes as he looked at the princess.
If Ronan had to guess, he would assume this was Chief ó Connor.
He had seen the man standing behind the royal family when they arrived.
There were three other warriors in the room with them: Commander Derval, wearing Scáilca’s deep maroon, and two álainndoran men in their kingdom’s colors of green and gold.
The king and queen of álainndore were not in attendance, but Domhnall had warned Ronan that might be the case.
Apparently it was too much effort to attend meetings about their kingdom’s future themselves.
“Princess Clíodhna, we weren’t expecting you,” Domhnall finally said. He looked a bit shaken as he stood at the foot of the table opposite her.
“I’m glad I was able to come, and I apologize for my and Captain ó Faoláin’s delay. You may begin.” Her voice held such confidence that Ronan felt the urge to follow its command.
“I assume the king and queen will not be attending?” Domhnall looked to ó Connor.
“They have other matters to attend to,” the chief replied. “I am here in their stead.”
Domhnall nodded. “I had hoped to discuss with them the potential threat of Tinelann and Ionróir. Several townspeople from our northeastern villages have reported movement near the Diamhair Mountains. This could be Ionróirans, like I mentioned earlier, farther inland than we’ve ever seen.
Or it could be Tinelann themselves, breaking the treaty.
I wished to see if your chief of war, Chief Barra, had heard word of any potential treaty breaches on your side of the Diamhairs. ”
“Chief Barra is dead.”
ó Connor’s solemn words echoed through the room. It was Clíodhna who was the first to break through the shock that had silenced the group.
“How?”
“It’s unclear. His body was found this morning, in an alley in Bailetara.
The king and queen will be ordering an investigation.
Until his cause of death is determined and a suitable replacement is found, I will be discussing this matter with you in his place.
While I might be chief of the coffers, I am a curadh.
My military background ought to still be of use. ” ó Connor said the last a bit wryly.
Ronan hadn’t realized the álainndoran chief—or any of the high-ranking álainndorans, for that matter—had trained at Caisleán Cósta.
The title of curadh was given only to those who had completed the full year of rigorous training there and proved themselves in battle.
It was an honor, one that promised respect.
He had always wondered if he might be able to earn it.
“Of course. And I give you my condolences,” Domhnall said.
There was a pause, and Ronan watched Domhnall calculate the best way to move forward.
Decide what to reveal. “Your situation isn’t unfamiliar to us.
The prior captain of my guard was found dead only four days ago.
” Ronan straightened his back as several eyes drifted toward him.
He had already known what had happened to his predecessor, and about the inconclusive investigation that occurred after.
However, hearing it again was a sobering reminder of how he’d come into his position. And the danger of it.
Domhnall continued. “I feel these deaths only emphasize the importance of what I am about to propose. If Tinelann and Ionróir are working together, it wouldn’t surprise me if their reach could extend to our own homes.
Tinelann breaking the treaty and Ionróirans advancing inland affects both of our kingdoms. We need to gather intel to decide how to move forward from here and what preparations will need to be made.
And if rumors about enemies in the Diamhair Mountains are true, then no matter who the enemy is, we should prepare for the possibility of war. ”
There was silence as everyone let his words sink in. A true war, beyond small invasions by a foreign continent, hadn’t been seen in Inismian in decades. Peace between the five kingdoms—álainndore, Scáilca, Tinelann, Liricnoc, and Oileánster—had been kept through the Diamhair Treaty.
But if Tinelann was crossing into the mountains, violating the very rule the treaty was named for, war might be unavoidable. And if they were working with Ionróir? It could be catastrophic.
The Ionróiran’s had practice in battle; they had been attacking Scáilcan coasts for decades now.
As a coastal power that relied on their naval dominance, they were limited by the whims of the sea and how many warriors they could fit on the boats they sailed from Mhór Rhoinn to Inismian.
Tinelann could supply them the foothold they would need to overwhelm the other four kingdoms.
Domhnall continued, palms resting against the table as he leaned forward.
“Chief ó Connor, with King Tighearnán and Queen Eithne’s permission, I would like to propose Commander Derval lead a small group of warriors to the town of Redhallow.
It’s the nearest álainndoran settlement to the base of the mountains and an ideal location to scout for activity. What do you say?”
Ronan glanced at Clíodhna, who Domhnall had neatly cut out of the conversation. She didn’t appear upset, by his words or the imminent danger. Her face remained calm, her posture that of someone having a casual conversation over tea.
ó Connor shook his head tightly. “No.”
Domhnall stood up. The chiefs in Scáilca had never denied their prince. His hold on his warriors was tight, built on hard-won respect and loyalty. But he had none of that here.
He might have, had he not broken his engagement, Ronan thought. Of course, he couldn’t say this.
The older chief stood tall, his tone final. “I understand your concerns, and I applaud your dedication in suggesting this mission, but the king and queen do not wish to get involved in these affairs.”
Domhnall glared at the chief. “They would have to do nothing but grant permission.”
“That would then be involving them, and thus álainndore, in your war. It is too much of a risk,” ó Connor stated.
“The risk would be worthwhile for them, given the stakes. álainndore has avoided Ionróiran attacks thus far, but what if they are traveling inland? What if they begin attacking the eastern coast? Your kingdom won’t be safe forever.”
ó Connor stared down at the prince, unaffected by his words. “If that happens, then we will reconsider. Not a moment sooner.”
It was then that Ronan spoke. “By then, it would be too late.”
The chief didn’t acknowledge Ronan, looking only at Domhnall. “I have given you my answer. If that is all, I must take my leave.”
He turned to walk away, but Domhnall called after him. “I want an audience with the king and queen.”
“As I said before, they do not wish to involve themselves.” ó Connor offered a serene smile, reminding Ronan that the man was born and raised in álainndore, same as Clíodhna. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Your Highness.”
Frustration rose in Ronan. ó Connor walked out of the room, leaving everyone standing foolishly beside the table, and Ronan wanted to follow him. To yell and demand that he listen. But he stayed where he was.
The princess watched ó Connor with an unreadable look on her face. Ronan waited for her to speak. She outranked the chief; she could overrule his decision if she wished. If she cared about her kingdom, she would.
Remaining silent, she rose from the table and followed ó Connor out the door.
Perhaps this was her idea of a petty punishment for Domhnall’s betrayal. Only now, all of them would have to pay the price.