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m conceived again and was due in seven months' time. The boy was brown-eyed
like his mother, but his hair, like
Liam's, was brassy gold. Shea's stamp was on all of them;
Kilore, the Aerie of Erinn, was home to magnificent eaglets.
And Deirdre. Present always, serving me even as her stepmother served Shea; as
lerne served Liam. Making no promises she could not keep, saying nothing of
the future. But wanting as much as I did.
I sat before the cavernous fireplace after dinner and stared silently into the
flames. Servants moved softly, removing platters and empty wine jugs. Shea and
his clutch gathered some distance away; I was treated as part of the family
until politics intervened. Then I was a hostage who must be kept in ignorance
of his future.
Sean, defying his elders, came running across the floor to fall against my
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legs. He hugged one knee and grinned at me, saying something in what I
believed was the ancient Erinnish language, until I realized it was only his
childish mumblings. Obligingly I lifted him into my lap and settled him there.
He squirmed around until he sat against my chest, head slumped on my
collarbone and one fist thrust into my woolen jerkin. Like me, he stared into
the flames in deep, thoughtful silence.
I realized I had never held a child before. I felt dis-
tinctly discomfited; did I have the arms and legs settled comfortably? Sean
did not seem to notice my concern, so
I assumed he fared well enough. But I was not certain I
liked the responsibility. Children, I had always believed, were crying,
petulant things when they were not shouting and shrieking in play, and yet
Sean was quiet enough.
Slowly my unease abated and left me feeling tentatively contented.
I felt her presence before she spoke, as always. "You are good with him."
Deirdre stood behind me, "He does not always please himself so easily."
Having no wish to disturb the boy, I did not try to turn. "I am a stranger. He
will lose interest soon enough."
"Sean is not one for losing interest in a thing. 'Tis independent he is, like
his father."
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"Like you."
Laughing softly, she moved around the chair and sat down on a stool at my
feet. Pale yellow skirts of softest
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wool settled around her like a cloud. ** Tis a good father you'll be making
one day." Intently, she watched me, waiting; absently, one slender hand
touched the fabric of my breeches.
Deliberately, I said: "If I am ever given leave to wed my betrothed."
Her eyes flickered in response to the wry challenge in my tone. She took her
hand away. "Then 'tis still GiseUa you desire."
"I do not desire her, Deirdre . . . only my freedom so
I may wed her. There is a difference."
The firelight behind her set her bright hair aglow. Her face was in shadow,
but I saw her clearly. I knew her too well by now. "What of me?" she asked
evenly.
I looked away. I had to. "What
Her tone hardened. " Tis so easy for you, then, this thing between us? Tnis
thing that has the binding on us both?"
I drew in a careful breath. Ah gods, forgive me for hurting her "There is a
prophecy, Deirdre, to which I
am bound more firmly than any woman."
"Even GiseUa?" The barb was sharp. "Is she not a part of that prophecy?"
"She is a part of my tahlmorra, my fate, as you would call it. She is half
Atvian. It is her blood we need, for the prophecy of the Firstborn."
"Are you forgetting, then? / am half Atvian, too."
She and GiseUa are cousins even as GiseUa and I are.
Gods, what a tangled tapestry
Scan squirmed, sensing the tension between Deirdre and me. I set him down and
watched him make his way to his father, still talking with Shea near the door.
"But you have no CheysuU blood," I said finally. "Deir-
dre, I have told you what I lack. No Hr, no gifts, no strength as the warriors
know it. I lack even the color "
I stopped. It would do no good to expose my insecurities and resentments. "One
day a man of all blood shall unite, in peace, four warring realms and two
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magic races,"
I quoted. "All blood, Deirdre. If I cannot hand on the proper gifts to my
children, the prophecy will not be properly served." I drew in a breath
through a painfully constricted throat. "Gisella is half Cheysuli. What / do
not have, she does. I need her, Deirdre, for that."
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She sat before me, rigidly upright; rigidly proud. "And
I need you."
I reached out and touched her glowing hair. Beneath my hand she trembled with
the strength of her convic-
tion; with the strength of her desire. Even as I myself did.
Dry-mouthed, I said: "There is nothing I can do."
And hated the man who said it.
The old lord called me into his personal chamber weeks later. I went with
foreboding in my soul, for hope had been banished months before. I found Liam
present as well.
Shea waved me to a chair. "Sit, sit, lad ... what I
have to say is better heard in private."
I watched Liam's face for some hint of what was to come. He gave nothing away,
nothing at all, save the gravity of the matter.
Shea sat down also. " 'Tis word from Donal, your fa-
ther." His mouth, behind the beard, twisted in a gri-
mace. "Alaric at last sent word of your presence with me, saying other
messengers must have gone astray." He grunted. "I think Donal is no fool, lad.
He'll not be believing that."
I felt light-headed with relief. "What does my father say?"
"He inquires after your health. I told the Homanan messenger it was excellent.
He'll be taking that back to the Mujhar already."
All the relief fell away. "You have sent him away?"
"The messenger? Aye. I saw no reason to have you trade words with him, lad. I
was not wanting you disturbed."
"Disturbed!" I overturned the chair as I jumped up unsteadily- "By the gods,
you pen me up for five months and then send away a man who bears word from my
father?"
Shea's thicket of eyebrows jerked up into his hair.
"Has it been that long? I'd be saying three months, I
think, not five." Frowning, he turned to Liam. "Five months, he says. Truth?"
"Truth," Liam answered.
Shea glanced back at me. "Sit downF he roared. I
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righted the chair and sat down. Appeased, he rubbed thoughtfully at his beard.
"I let him see ye, lad, to know
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green eyes were oddly watch-
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