by Nora Roberts
each other, I make you weak.”
“There’s a part of me, mo chroi, that’s always weak when it comes to you.”
My heart, he’d called her, and it made her own dance again. “Oh, don’t,” she said after he’d laid her on the bed and turned to close the drapes. “Not yet. There’s so much night left.” She rolled off the bed again and grabbed her night robe. “I’m going to get the wine. And the cheese,” she decided. “I’m half starving again.”
As she ran out he went to the fire, tossed on another brick of turf. He closed his mind to the part of him that asked what he was doing. Every time he was with her, there was another scar to his heart, for the day that would come when he’d never be with her again.
She’d survive it, he reminded himself. And so would he. Survival was something humans and demons had in common. Nothing really died of a broken heart.
She came back, carrying a tray. “We can eat and drink in bed, full of decadence.” She set the tray on the bed, and climbed up after it.
“I’ve certainly given you enough of that.”
“Oh?” She brushed back her hair and gave him a slow smile. “And here I was hoping there’d be more to come. But if you’ve shown me all you know, I suppose we can just begin repeating ourselves.”
“I’ve done things you can’t imagine. Things I wouldn’t have you imagine.”
“Now you’re bragging.” She made herself say it lightly.
“Moira—”
“Don’t be sorry for what’s between us, or for what you believe can’t be, or shouldn’t.” Her gaze was clear, direct. “Don’t be sorry when you look at me for whatever you might have done in the past. Whatever it was, each time, it was a step to bringing you here. You’re needed here. I need you here.”
He crossed to the bed. “Do you understand I can’t stay?”
“Yes, yes. Yes. I don’t want to speak of it, not tonight. Can’t we have an illusion for just one night?”
He touched her hair. “I can’t be sorry for what’s between us.”
“That’s enough then.” Had to be enough, she reminded herself, though with every minute that passed there was something inside her going wild, and wilder still with grief.
She lifted one of the goblets, offered it with a steady hand. When he saw it was blood, he lifted a brow at her.
“I thought you might need it. For energy.”
He shook his head and sat on the bed with her. “So, should we talk about plumbing?”
She hadn’t been sure what he’d say, but that was the last on any list she might have made. “Plumbing.”
“You’re not the only one who’s made studies. Added to the fact that I was around when that kind of thing was being incorporated into daily life. I have some ideas how you could install some basics.”
She smiled and sipped her wine. “Educate me.”
They spent considerable time at it, with Moira going off for paper and ink so they could draw basic diagrams. The fact that he took such an interest in something she imagined people of his time took for granted opened another facet of him for her.
But she realized she shouldn’t have been surprised by it, not when she considered the extent of his library in Ireland. And in a house, she remembered, he didn’t visit more than once or twice a year.
She understood, too, that he could have been anything he’d wanted. He had a quick, curious mind, clever hands, and from the way he’d played music, the soul of a poet. And a way with business as well, she reminded herself.
In Geall, in her time, he would have been prosperous, she was certain. Respected, even renowned. Other men would have come to him for advice and counsel. Women would have flirted with him at every opportunity.
But she and he would have met, and courted, and loved, she was sure of it. And he would have ruled by her side over a rich and peaceful land.
There would be children, with his beautiful blue eyes. And a boy—at least one boy—with that little cleft in the chin like his father.
And on nights like this, late and quiet, they’d talk of other plans for their family, for their people, for their land.
She blinked herself back when his fingers brushed her cheek.
“You need sleep.”
“No.” She shook her head, tried to refocus on the diagrams again—to hold off those minutes that drained away her time with him. “My mind was wandering off.”
“You’d’ve been snoring in a minute.”
“Well, what a lie. I don’t snore.” But she didn’t argue when he gathered up the papers. She could barely keep her eyes open. “Perhaps we’ll rest a little while.”
She rose to snuff candles as he moved to close the drapes. But when she moved back toward the bed, he was opening the doors and stepping out.
“For heaven’s sake, Cian, you’re next to naked.” Plucking up his shirt, she hurried out after him. “At least put this on. You may not mind the cold, but I mind having one of the guards see you standing here in your altogether. It’s not proper.”
“There’s a rider coming.”
“What? Where?”
“Due east.”
She looked east, but saw nothing. Still, she didn’t doubt him. “A single rider?”
“Two, but the second’s being led by the first. They’re coming at a gallop.”
With a nod, she strode back into the bedchamber and began to dress. “The guards are instructed not to pass anyone in. I’ll have a look. It may be stragglers. If so, we can’t leave them outside the gates and unprotected.”
“Invite no one,” Cian ordered as he yanked on his jeans. “Even if they’re known to you.”
“I won’t, and neither will any of the guards.” With a small pang of regret, she put on her circlet and became queen again. And as queen, she lifted her sword.
“It’ll be stragglers,” she said. “In need of food and shelter.”
“And if not?”
“Then they’ve ridden a long way to die.”
When she stood at the post on top of the wall she could see the riders, or the shape of them. Two as Cian had said, with the first leading the second horse. They wore no cloaks though there was a chill in the air, and a hint of the first frost.
She glanced at Niall who’d been awakened when the guards had spotted the riders. “I’ll want a bow.”
Niall gestured to one of the men, took a bow and quiver from him. “Seems fruitless for the enemy to ride straight at us. Two of them against us? And unable to pass through the gates unless we welcome them.”
“Likely they aren’t the enemy. But the gates aren’t to be raised until we know. Two men,” she murmured as they rode close enough for her to be sure. “The one being led looks to be injured.”
“No,” Cian said after a moment. “Dead.”
“How can you—” Niall cut himself off.
“You’re certain?” Moira murmured.
“He’s tied to the horse, and he’s dead. So’s the lead rider, but he’s been changed.”
“All right then.” Moira let out a sigh. “Niall, tell the men to keep a sharp eye for others. They’re to do nothing without a command. We’ll see what this one wants. A deserter?” she said to Cian, then dismissed the idea before he answered. “No, a deserter would have gone as far east or north as possible, and kept hidden.”
“Could be he thinks he has something to trade,” Niall suggested. “Make us think the one he’s bringing is still alive, so we’d let them in. Or he’s got information he feels we’d value.”
“No harm in listening,” Moira began, then gripped Cian’s hand. “The rider. It’s Sean. It’s Sean, the smithy’s son. Oh God. Are you sure he’s—”
“I know my own kind.” And with eyes keener than Moira’s he recognized the dead. “Lilith sent him—she can afford to lose one so newly changed. She sent him because you’d know him, and feel for him. Don’t.”
“He was little more than a boy.”
“Now he’s a demon. The other was spared th
at. Look at me, Moira.” He took her shoulders, turned her to face him. “I’m sorry. It’s Tynan.”
“No. No. Tynan’s at the base. We had word he reached it safely. Injured, but alive, and safe. It can’t be Tynan.”
She pushed away from Cian, leaning on the wall, straining her eyes. She could hear the murmurs now, then the shouts as the men began to recognize Sean. There was hope in the shouts, and welcome.
“It’s no longer Sean.” She lifted her voice, cut through the calls of the men. “They killed the one you knew and sent a demon with his face. The gates stay locked, and not a man here will pass what rides here through them. I command it.”
She turned back. Every bone in her body went brittle as she saw Cian had been right. It was Tynan, or Tynan’s mauled body, tied to the second horse.
She wanted to weep, wanted to burrow herself into Cian and scream and sob. She wanted to sink to the stones and cry out her grief and her rage.
She stood straight, no longer feeling the wind that blew at her cloak, at her hair. She notched the arrow, and she waited for the vampire to bring its vile gift.
“No one is to speak to it,” she said coldly.
What had been Sean lifted its face, raised a hand to wave to those gathered on the wall.
“Open the gates!” it shouted. “Open the gates! It’s Sean, the blacksmith’s son. They may be after me still. I’ve Tynan here. He’s badly hurt.”
“You will not pass,” Moira called out. “She killed you only to send you here to die again.”
“Majesty.” It managed an awkward bow as it pulled the horses to a halt. “You know me.”
“Aye, I do. How did Tynan die?”
“He’s hurt. He’s lost blood. I escaped the demons and made my way to the farm, to the base. But I was weak and hurt myself, and Tynan, bless him, came out to help me. They set upon us. We barely escaped with our lives.”
“You lie. Did you kill him? Did what she made you turn you so you’d kill a friend?”
“My lady.” It broke off when she lifted the bow and aimed the arrow at its heart. “I didn’t kill him.” It held up its hands to show them empty of weapons. “It was the prince. The boy.” It giggled, then pressed a hand to its mouth to muffle it in a gesture so like Sean’s it ripped her heart. “The prince lured him outside and had the kill. I’ve only brought him back to you, as the true queen commanded. She sends a message.”
“And what would it be?”
“If you surrender, and accept her as ruler of this world and all others, if you place the sword of Geall in her hand, and set the crown on her head, you’ll be spared. You may live out your lives here as you like, for Geall is a small world and of little interest to her.”
“And if we don’t?”
He took out a dagger, and leaning over, cut the ropes securing Tynan to the horse. A careless kick sent the body tumbling to the ground. “Then your fate is as his, as will be the fate of every man, every woman, every child who stands against her. You’ll be tortured.”
It ripped off its tunic, and the moonlight fell on the burns and gashes yet to heal on its torso. “Any who survive Samhain will be hunted down. We’ll rape your women, we’ll mutilate your children. When it’s done, not a single human heart will beat on Geall. We are forever. You’ll never stop the flood of us. Give your answer, and I’ll take it to the queen.”
“This is the answer of the true queen of Geall. When the sun rises after Samhain, you and all like you will be dust that blows out to sea on the wind. Nothing will be left of you in Geall.”
She passed her bow back to Niall. “You have your answer.”
“She’ll come for you!” it shouted. “And for the traitor to his kind who stands beside you.”
It wheeled the horse, kicked it to a gallop.
On the wall, Moira lifted her sword, and flinging it out, shot a stream of fire. The vampire screamed once as the flames struck, then the ball of fire that was left of it fell to the ground, and went to ash.
“He was of Geall,” Moira murmured, “and deserved to end with its sword. Tynan—” Her throat simply locked.
“I’ll bring him in.” Cian touched her shoulder, and looked over her head into Niall’s eyes. “He was a good man, and a friend to me.”
Without waiting, Cian vaulted over the wall. He seemed almost to float to the ground.
Niall slapped the back of his hand on the arm of the guard beside him when he saw the man made the sign against evil. “No man stands with me who insults Sir Cian.”
Below, Cian picked Tynan up in his arms and, bearing his weight, looked up and met Moira’s eyes.
“Open the gates,” she ordered. “So Sir Cian can bring Tynan home again.”
She tended the body herself, removing the torn and filthy clothes.
“Let me do this, Moira.”
She shook her head, and began to wash Tynan’s face. “This is for me. We were friends since childhood. I need to do this for him. I don’t want Larkin to see him until he’s clean.”
Her hands trembled as she brushed the cloth gently over the tears and bites, but she never faltered.
“They were playmates, you see. Larkin and Tynan. Was it the truth, do you think, that the child did this to him?”
When Cian said nothing, she looked over.
“He’s her child,” Cian said at length. “He would be vicious. Let me wake Glenna, at least.”
“She was fond of Tynan. Everyone was. No, there’s no need for her to come now, so late. They tore my mother like this. Worse, even worse. And I turned away from that. I can’t turn away from this.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“You think because I see these wounds, these bites and tears, as if an animal had been at him, I could think you’re the same as what did this? Do you think me so weak of mind and heart, Cian?”
“No. I think the woman I saw tonight, the woman I heard, has the strongest mind and heart I’ve ever known. I never ripped at a human that way.”
He steadied himself as she turned those ravaged eyes on his again. “I need you to know that, at least. Of all the things I’ve done, and some were unimaginably cruel, I never did what was done to him.”
“You killed more cleanly. More efficiently.”
He felt the words slice into him. “Yes.”
Moira nodded. “Lilith didn’t train you, but abandoned you, so you have little of her in you. Not like this boy must. And, I think, some manner of your upbringing remained. Just as I heard Sean’s tone, saw his mannerisms in that thing tonight, so some of yours stayed as they were. I know you’re not human, Cian, just as I know you’re not a monster. And I know there’s some of both in you that has you constantly struggling to keep them balanced.”
She washed Tynan’s body as gently as she would have washed a child. When she was done she began to dress him in the clothes she’d had sent over from his quarters.
“Let me do that, Moira, for God’s sake.”
“I know you mean well. I know you’re thinking of me. But I need to do this one thing for him. He was the first to kiss me.” Her voice wavered a bit before she clamped down and finished. “When I was fourteen, and he two years older. It was very sweet, very gentle. Shy for both of us, as a first kiss in the springtime should be. I loved him. I think in a way like you loved King. She’s taken that from us, Cian. Taken them from us, but not the love.”
“I swear before any gods you wish, I’ll end her for you.”
“One of us will.” She bent, brushed her lips over Tynan’s cold cheek.
Then she stepped back from him.
Now she sank to the floor on a keening wail. When Cian knelt beside her, she curled into him and wept out her shattered heart.
Chapter 15
They buried Tynan on a brilliant morning with cloud shadows dancing over the hills and a lark singing joyfully in a rowan tree. The holy man blessed the ground before they lowered him into it, with a fife and drum sounding the dirge.
All who knew him,
and many who didn’t, were there so that mourners stretched across the sun-drenched graveyard and up the rise toward the castle. The three flags of Geall flew at half staff.
Moira stood beside Larkin, dry-eyed. Though she heard Tynan’s mother weeping, she knew her time for tears had passed. The others of her circle stood behind her, and she could feel them, took some comfort from that.
Now two stones would stand for friends here, along with the markers for her parents. All of them victims of a war that had raged long before she’d known of it. And would end with her, one way or another.
At last, she moved away to give the last moments to the family and their privacy. When Larkin took her hand, she gripped it firmly. She looked at Cian, could just see his eyes under the shadow of his hood. Then she looked at the others.
“We have work to do. Larkin and I need to speak with Tynan’s family again, then we’ll meet in the parlor.”
“We’ll head in now.” Blair stepped forward, laid her cheek against Larkin’s. Moira couldn’t hear the words Blair murmured to him, but Larkin released her hand and pulled Blair into a hard embrace.
“We’ll be in shortly.” Larkin eased back, then took Moira’s hand again. She would have sworn she could feel his grief coming through his skin.
Before Moira could move back toward the family, Tynan’s mother broke away from her husband and pushed her way to Cian. Her eyes were still spilling tears.
“It’s your kind did this. Your kind killed my boy.”
Hoyt made a move forward, but Cian shifted to block his path. “Yes.”
“You should be in hell instead of my boy being in the ground.”
“Yes,” Cian repeated.
Moira stepped up to put an arm around her, but the woman shook it off. “You, all of you.” She whirled, jabbing out an accusing finger. “You care more about this thing than my boy. Now he’s dead. He’s dead. And you have no right to stand here by his grave.” She spat at Cian’s feet.
As she wept into her hands, her husband and daughters carried her off.
“I’m sorry,” Moira murmured. “I’ll speak with her.”
“Leave her be. She wasn’t wrong.” Saying nothing more, Cian walked away from the fresh grave, and the lines of stones that marked the dead.
Niall caught up with him as he reached the gates. “Sir Cian, a word with you.”
“You can have as many words as you want once I’m out of this shagging sun.”
He didn’t know why he’d gone to the graveyard. He’d seen more than enough dead in his time, heard more than enough weeping for them. Tynan’s mother wasn’t the only one who looked at him with fear and hate, and here he was out in the daylight with the only things between him and the killing sun some rough cloth and a charm.
His blood cooled the moment he was inside, out of the light.
“Say what you need to say.” Cian shoved back the detested hood of the cloak.
“So I will.” A big man with his usually cheerful face tight and grim, Niall nodded sharply. His wide hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he looked hard into Cian’s eyes. “Tynan was a friend, and one of the best men I’ve known.”
“You’re saying nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“Well, you haven’t heard me say it, have you? I saw what had become of Sean, what had been a harmless and often foolish lad. I saw him kick Tynan’s body from the horse as if it were no more than offal to be tossed in a ditch.”
“To him it wasn’t any more than that.”
