Chapter 3 #3
“You’re not wide-awake and neither am I. There’s a small thicket of trees right there, with a grassy area just beyond. And they may be horses, but I am certain that these fellows will warn us if anyone comes near us.”
“You don’t need to stop because of me—”
“I’m stopping because of us both,” he assured her.
“Come on, we’ll lead the horses to the grass, grab the blankets, use the cover of the trees and dare take a few hours of rest. We’ll be fine.
” He offered her a grin. “We’re covered.
I’ll bring the cauldron and spear and you’ll have the sword. Because there is something to them.”
She nodded at last, still worried, despite his words, that he was stopping just because of her.
It didn’t matter. They needed to do it.
They headed off the trail, leading the horses through slender openings in the woods, bringing them to the area where they could rest and chew on grass when the notion took them. Then Kylin collected the cauldron and the spear and nodded toward a tangle of brush and trees.
He found an area where there was just room for their blankets and their strange gifts, and spread out his blanket. She watched and did the same.
“Good night!” he told her cheerfully, taking a seat first and then stretching out, his hand rested upon the long body of the spear.
She found a seat as well and stretched out on her own blanket, the shimmering sword still in its hilt at her waist, her knife in a hilt as well, in instant access of her hands.
At first, Kylin lay awake, his mind caught up in the strangeness of their situation. Not even two days ago, the concept of him lying on a blanket deep in the woods next to the daughter of the Rí Eamon O’Connor would have made him laugh at the ridiculousness of such a thing happening.
Deidre had played with his sisters. Somehow, Maeve and Maureen had been forgiven for their birth, while he . . .
Well, here they were. And she had not been his favorite person, despite her beauty, the intelligence she’d shown at councils and her willingness to pitch in when any kind of work was needed, when babies were born, when wounds needed tending.
She’d been part of his life forever, about the villages, here and there.
But he disliked her because she had disliked him.
That didn’t seem to be so true anymore. And he had touched her.
He knew there had been a time when his father and Eamon had discussed a marriage between the two of them. He’d vehemently opposed such a thing, assuring both men that Deidre would run to the sea herself before ever allowing such a thing to happen.
Now, he knew, the two men had discussed a union between Aidan and Maeve, two of their offspring who seemed to get along quite well, indeed.
Finally, his eyes closed. The trees shaded them from the moon. The noises of the night were natural, there was no sound of furtive footsteps . . .
The horses were near.
Their weapons were at hand.
His eyes slowly closed as his mind had done.
A chirping and the first streaks of light woke him.
He lay very still, almost smiling.
Deidre still slept. But in the night, she had curled closer and closer against him. Her head rested against his arm. With her sword in its hilt, he wasn’t even sure how she had managed to twist so, but the length of her was against his side.
He didn’t move. He felt her warmth. She had naturally curled against him for the heat one body could give to another.
A bird chirped again, loud and near.
The sun rose.
She stirred and lifted her head slowly, meeting his eyes, stunned and dismayed.
“I am so sorry once again!” she apologized, rising awkwardly to sit, trying to wrangle the length of the sword and her body at once. “I did not mean to take your space—”
“Deidre! Stop,” he begged her. “We slept, we rested, we both used the warmth. All is well. And not only that, but we slept undisturbed. We’ll now be able to finish the ride.”
He frowned suddenly.
They hadn’t stumbled upon the bodies of the dead men; they had left them where they had fallen.
They should have buried them, there had been more pressing matters at the time.
“What it is?” Deidre asked.
“The bodies?”
“Our bodies?” she whispered.
“No, no, the bodies of the men who fell when we were last in the area. Deidre, we should have passed them before coming here. We did not.”
“True!” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Someone else has been here then. And your father, are you sure—”
“I am sure that my father is the most loyal man ever to walk this earth,” he said flatly.
“No, no! I was making no accusation, but when he spoke to the injured man, when he discovered that there was indeed a jarl who wanted to invade and seize what he could with an ally here . . . was his language still complete, was there a lie in his words, were there many people and we’ve just managed to avoid them. ”
“Trust me, my father speaks both languages fluently, as do my sisters and I, and even my mother. My father believed that it would be important for us to learn, that communication could be greater than a sword. Well, not that sword,” he added dryly, “but most swords. What my father learned was truth.”
“Truth as the injured man knew it,” Deidre said.
“Oh, aye, now, that could be true.”
Kylin rose, reaching down a hand to help her do the same.
For a brief moment, she stared at his hand.
As if she would refuse his help.
But she did not. She took his hand, and he drew her to her feet. Again, she stood close. So close.
“Thank you,” she told him, turning then to collect her blanket.
He did the same, taking up the cauldron and the spear as well.
“We’ve not far to go now.”
“Perhaps we should have continued through the night,” Deidre said.
He laughed softly. “We’d not have made it.”
“I’d have fallen from my horse, right?” she inquired.
“Perhaps. And perhaps I’d have fallen from my horse as well. Now we are rested, awake and aware, and ready to move on!”
She smiled in agreement. “Well, there is just one thing,” she said.
“And what is that?”
“Hunger!” she told him. “We didn’t think to eat. We didn’t think about food—”
“Well, she shall suffer a bit longer. And then the great ard-rí will feed us,” he assured her.
She was smiling again and nodding as she moved ahead of him, pausing just at the clearing where the horses waited.
They were as they had been left, but now they were enjoying a breakfast of the rich grass that grew there.
Darragh gave a soft whinny of welcome.
Kylin tied on the cauldron and the spear and mounted, aware that Deidre was already atop her horse.
One more small hill, a valley, and then on to the well-known and well-marked Hill of Tara.
Where the ancients lay buried, where the ard-rí now resided, and where whatever magic was being offered might well reside deep in the earth in strength.
A strength they were going to need.
“To Tara!” he murmured.
“To Tara!” Deidre agreed, and when they broke through the thicket and out into the expanse of a valley, they both gave free rein to their horses.
The sun rose, the air swirled.
And it was suddenly a beautiful thing, just to be racing over the grass . . .
With Deidre at his side.