Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
He must have seen the bittersweet feelings threatening to rise, because his fingers brushed hers. Even after last night, the small touch sent a shock through her.
Before they could talk more, Dornáin and MacCraith arrived, and everyone shifted into motion.
ó Dálaigh was quick to remind them of the day of traveling they had ahead of them.
It would be a brief journey, with time allocated for making camp at night.
Something Clía was grateful for. She might have grown in physical strength and combat skills, but she would rather surrender to Tinelann than ride on a horse overnight in a Scáilcan winter.
They rode in a single-file line, with Dornáin leading and ó Dálaigh trailing behind. The three rookies were placed in the middle. Niamh, with the innate ability to know what would bother Clía most, positioned herself between Clía and Ronan.
Scáilca looked so different from when she arrived in the summer.
Where green used to cling to trees, spindly branches remained.
Pale arms reached out from the forest surrounding them.
There were no happy birdsong or scurrying animals in bushes.
The music of nature had gone quiet, replaced with the murmurs of the wind.
ó Dálaigh had them travel through the day, with no breaks for meals—rations would be eaten while riding.
Clía had been expecting the same travel regimen as their trip to the Ghostwood, but she could begrudgingly admit that the difference made sense.
The Ghostwood quest had been merely a game to Kordislaen.
The sun began to dip below the horizon when ó Dálaigh told them they would be stopping for the night.
There were no landmarks or villages to signify where they were, but ó Dálaigh seemed confident this was where they needed to be.
Their group split, as half went to scout and secure the area, leaving Clía with Niamh and Dornáin to make camp.
She found herself grateful for her classes with Draoi Griffin, where he spent time going over how to properly prepare a camp for missions like this.
Including setting up the ridiculous tent that was currently besting her.
Unfortunately, knowing how to do something and succeeding at it were two different skills.
As she tangled with the ropes, Niamh approached. “May I?” she asked, motioning for the rope that was currently holding Clía prisoner.
“Please.”
She uncoiled it from around Clía’s hand, freeing her. Together, they set up the first tent and moved on to the next. “These are a lot more challenging to put together than it seems.”
Niamh was handing her an olive branch. A truce. “I see that now. Thank you.”
Niamh just nodded.
They worked in silence, passing each other ropes and helping hold down the folds and poles. When the three tents were set up, they breathed a shared sigh of relief before moving on to the fire.
Dornáin collected the wood. He knew the area around here better than either of them.
Niamh stacked the logs, and Clía added dead grass and leaves in the gaps.
It was a one-person job, but neither of them left.
They listened for each other’s silent commands, a quiet but swift team.
After the fire was blazing, they helped Dornáin with the remaining duties until there was nothing left but to wait for the rest of their group.
Dornáin claimed he had some maps to look over, but Clía knew he was eying his tent, eager to sleep undisturbed. Left alone by the fire, the two girls simply sat and watched the flames twirl in the winter breeze.
Before the silence could smother them, Niamh spoke.
“Are you happy?” Her voice was low, hesitant. “With how everything has turned out. Are you happy?”
Clía was surprised by the question, but she answered it honestly.
“I hate to think of Sárait unconscious in that infirmary. But other than that? Yes, I think I am.” Niamh’s gaze was pensive. The fire lit her dark brown hair in rays of gold and red, sun and blood. “Are you?”
Niamh’s carefully constructed mask was gone. In its place was a lost girl, looking for solutions in the sparks of a fire. “I don’t know.”
“You have Domhnall, and a future anyone would trade their lives for,” Clía said carefully. It was the truth—but she also knew just how empty that prize truly was.
Niamh’s shoulders rose with the walls around her. “You’re right.”
Clía cursed herself for shattering their tentative truce. She tried again. “I don’t know if I ever really knew what I wanted. Not until now.”
An empty laugh came from Niamh. “If I recall, you left your life of luxury and wealth to become a warrior, all to convince a man to marry you. You seemed very confident in what you wanted then.”
“That’s not fair—”
“You didn’t love him. I know that much. Perhaps you loved the idea of him.
The wealth, the title, the poise. That was all you really wanted.
He was your prince come to bring you admiration and the love of the people.
” Clía wanted to stop her, tell her how wrong she was, but the words were stuck in her throat.
“Tell me,” Niamh said, and leaned closer, “if your parents hadn’t pushed so hard for your marriage, would you still have wanted to marry him? ”
Frustration filled the places where she should have held answers. “And you expect me to believe you love him?”
“No. I feel nothing for the prince, but I know what I’m getting into. I know why I want to marry him, and he knows as well. I am not tricking anyone, least of all myself.”
“I’m not a fool.”
“You’re not. You are many things—stubborn, prideful, determined, strangely sincere—but you are no fool.
In skill and soul, you’re better than most. I admit, I may not have been the kindest when you first arrived at Caisleán, and I’m sorry for that.
I couldn’t risk you getting in the way of my engagement to Domhnall.
But I know better now. The question is, do you?
” Niamh turned to her. Clía held her gaze, fighting any urge to shrink back.
“I don’t want to marry him. I don’t think I ever did.
” She thought the words would feel different on her lips.
Heavier, bittersweet. But instead, she felt light.
They were a reconciliation of her heart and her lingering fears.
She sat up straighter. “He was my friend and my future, and everyone expected it of me. He was all I knew. I didn’t want to disappoint everyone, and perhaps I clung to him tighter than I should have. ”
For so long, Domhnall had been the closest thing she knew to love, but it was only content obligation. Her mind drifted to the night before, to tangled limbs and close embraces. Now she knew love, and she couldn’t believe she could ever confuse the two emotions.
Niamh looked back at the fire, seemingly accepting this answer. She took out the food they had packed and began cooking. Enough for two.
“Why are you marrying Domhnall?” Clía asked, before remembering herself. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Niamh sent her a look that seemed to list the various ways she could kill her. Clía quickly glanced toward the forest and the shadows within. No matter the strides they’d made in their friendship tonight, it would be all too easy for Niamh to kill her with no witnesses.
There was a sigh. “As a child, my father always had high hopes for me. I’m the eldest, and my brothers were never as interested in following Ríoghain’s path.
My father would train me every day in swords, bows, daggers—any weapon you can think of.
He had always been afraid. He feared someone would try to attack him or hurt him through us.
It was my job to protect my mother and brothers when he was away on missions. ”
“No wonder you’re so . . . muscular.” The second the words left her mouth, Clía wished she could hide in a cave. Maybe not come out until all language had been wiped from the world.
But Niamh laughed. It wasn’t mocking or cruel. A genuine, surprised laugh.
This, she thought, is a moment to be spoken of for years to come. Clíodhna Fionnáin made Niamh Morrigan laugh.
“Thanks,” Niamh said. As quiet fell, the warrior focused intently on the fire.
“When he passed away, his paranoia spread to my mother. She insisted it wasn’t age or illness, like the doctors said.
It was orchestrated, she would tell me. The throne turned against him.
He died in his sleep. Peacefully. A death many would covet. ”
“I’m sorry for your loss. But I’m a little confused how this relates to Domhnall.”
Niamh sent her a wry look. “Add impatient to that list of traits of yours.” She prodded at the flames with a twig.
“My mother is not quiet with her conspiracies. And because of it, the family name my father worked so hard to distinguish is in jeopardy. My brothers’ futures are at risk.
Marrying Domhnall would solve that. People would forget my mother’s treasonous whispers, I could ensure my father is remembered as a hero, and I would be remembered as the queen of a great kingdom. ”
The warrior woman’s jaw was set, eyes burning as brightly as the flames before them. Clía had known her strength, her cunning, but now she understood: Niamh was a weapon forged in the hottest flames, first to strike and last to fall.
But the world wasn’t a battlefield, and there was more to life than legacy. “Are you happy with Domhnall? Even if you don’t love him.”
“I’m as happy as I can be. Marriage isn’t for me—it never was. I don’t love as most others do. It’s rarer for me. In the end, I find it’s not worth the trouble.”
“You’ve never fallen in love?” Clía asked.